28 DAX
“What the hell are you doing, Dax?” Mikhail asks when he comes into my quarters just as I’m about to hit the sack. He’s surprisingly calm, almost disappointed in a father-like manner. I’d expect him to barge in, exploding with rage after I’d cost him a big sale. That blonde girl’s voice was very important to the buyer.
But not even my surprise and relief can override my crankiness and irritation at being disturbed late at night. “What the hell are you doing?” I shoot back. “It’s half past one.”
He slips past me, uninvited, and takes a seat in my recliner, pouring a scotch from the side table.
“Do you want a glass?” I ask sarcastically, pointing to the bottle he has just set down. “Go ahead and help yourself.”
Ignoring my sour mood, he says, “Why are you selling her?”
“Because it’s time. It’s been five goddamn months.”
“Shit, Dax, you really are a numbskull sometimes.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms over my naked chest as I stare him down, hoping he’ll get uncomfortable and leave. But that tactic never did work on the cocky bastard.
He takes his time sipping my expensive scotch before answering. “You’re fucking blind. Too afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know. Change? Opening up? The idea that you’ll find something that will actually take you out of your numb shell and make you happy?”
“I don’t have time for this shit.” I point toward the door. “Get out of here. I need to sleep.”
Mikhail scoffs. “We both know you’re not gonna sleep until the sun breaks. If you’re even that lucky.”
I clench my jaw. I haven’t told anyone about my insomnia flaring up, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Mikhail sees everything.
“Have you ever considered that you might sleep better with a woman in your arms?”
“Seriously, get the fuck out of here.”
“I know you slept in her cell. And you looked very well-rested the next day. Just saying.” He shrugs and takes a large gulp, emptying the last half of scotch in one go. As he grabs the bottle again, I go to snatch it from him.
“If you’re gonna down it like that, go find some cheap shit.”
Mikhail gives a hearty laugh. “Disrespecting your fine scotch always has been a sure way to piss you off.” He taps his fingers against the armrest as he stares off to the side for a moment. “Anyway, I just wanted to try and stop you from making the stupidest mistake of your life. This girl clearly means a lot to you, and you’ve looked more alive than I’ve ever seen you since you got her.”
“And more tired. And grumpy and unfocused.”
“That too, but you just need to figure out your shit and accept this, and it will all get better.”
“And what if it doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll take her off your hands.”
“And sell her to the first sadistic fucker who offers a filthy amount of money?”
“I’ll take her myself until I find a buyer you can accept.”
I stare at him for a moment. “You’d do that? Why?”
“The same reason you liked Nikolai’s girl, and now this one. She’s submissive.” He shrugs.
Shit. Something dawns on me as I watch him. This cold-ass fucker wants a sub of his own. A smirk forms on my lips, and I open the bottle in my hands and take a generous gulp. Then I hand it back to him, open and ready to drink from. “You want a girl of your own. A sub.”
He takes the bottle and downs a generous swig. “I’m good.”
“Sure you are,” I say with a huff. “Nikolai’s girl fucked you up as much as she did me. You’re going soft, I’m going soft… Hell, even Dorin seems to be going soft. What the hell is this place coming to?”
His features darken as he watches me from beneath lowered brows. “Do you call cutting a girl’s vocal cords going soft?”
I’ve been wondering when he’d bring that up. “I guess not.”
“You know, that fuck-up could have cost me a great deal of money. Luckily, the buyer had already wired the money, and Dorin fixed the problem of him wanting a refund. But you’ll have to fix things with Dorin on your own. I can hold him back for a while, but you know… Dorin is Dorin and always will be.”
“I know.” I rake a hand through my long hair. “That’s just another reason to get her out of here as fast as possible.”
“Getting rid of her won’t fix the problem. Hell, it might not even keep her safe.”
I drop onto my couch. Shit , he’s right. Dorin is pissed that I damaged his girl—took her precious voice. He might not have tried anything yet, but you never see it coming with Dorin. Not until he strikes. It could happen at any moment, really. And he’s a cunning bastard. He’ll go to France, break into some estate and risk getting caught by a fancy security system just to snap her neck and get his revenge. Keeping her here, where I can keep an eye on her and him, might be the safest option.
But she would hate me even more than she already does if I go back on my promise to sell her. And all that hatred… Just thinking about her spiteful eyes and sputtered words is a cut to my heart that might never heal.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I say and look away. “She doesn’t want me anymore, and I can’t keep her if—”
Mikhail breaks out in a rumbling laughter that has me snapping my eyes back to him.
“You really are a numbskull,” he says.
“You didn’t see the way she spoke to me today. So much hatred in those vulnerable eyes. I’m sure. She doesn’t want to be with me.” I lean forward and press my head into my hands.
“I may not have heard what she said to you, but I did see the heartbreak in her eyes when she told me to tell you she was sorry. And not just that…” He pours more scotch into the glass and holds it before his lips while he says, “She even told me she didn’t care what you did to Dorin’s girl, and she meant it.”
I straighten. “She said that?”
He turns the bottom of the glass up, emptying the whole thing in one blasphemous go. “Sure did. So don’t give me any more excuses. Just make the goddamn decision and do it before it’s too late.”