Chapter 11 - Stefano
I wait impatiently in the car for Darya to come out. I am not happy that she is coming with me this morning. I would much rather have dealt with this whole thing without her knowing about it at all.
She climbs into the car and sits fussing around with her handbag and getting comfortable. I can’t drive until she is clipped in, because her safety is my first priority.
She is still messing about, so I lean over her and grab her seatbelt. Her scent washes over me and my cock stirs. Shit. I do not need this distraction right now. I have things I really need to focus on.
We leave the long driveway of the mansion and head out to the street.
My thoughts are really chaotic, wondering what the hell went wrong at the warehouse, but at the same time I can still sense her watching me. I take the occasional sneaky sideways glance and confirm that I am right.
I feel a smile wanting to spread across my face, but I hide it.
Or at least I think it do, until she huffs and quickly looks away from me to focus her attention somewhere else.
***
We arrive at the warehouse. The car tires crunch on the gravel of the parking lot as I stop outside the entrance.
Dammit. I really wish she wasn’t here with me, but I guess I will just have to try and keep her occupied while I sort this out.
I can’t imagine she is going to be anything but a distraction all day.
I sigh and climb out of the car, walking around to open her door for her.
She climbs out and throws me a tight smile.
I take her hand, and despite her initial hesitation, she wraps her fingers through mine. She is my wife, and in public, I expect her to behave like it.
We walk into the warehouse, which is in disarray.
My men are rushing around, trying to pull the crates into some kind of order, trying to help the people who were hurt during the attack.
I head straight over to the floor manager.
“Rickie, I had no idea it was this bad.”
“Sorry sir, I would have told you, but you said you would call me back.”
Shit, right, I did.
“Okay, well, update me. What is going on?”
Darya moves closer to me to listen to everything he is saying.
“They came in through the left side entrance. About six men wearing masks and vests. They opened fire immediately, didn’t have much to say. They shot their way through the workers and went straight for the new products. Once they secured a path, they had another team come in and grab some of the crates before they tossed a small explosive into the rest of them.”
“Fuck.”
“Yes, that about sums it up.”
Darya interrupts. “The injured men, where are they?”
“At the moment, we are still trying to pull everyone together to help out. We’ve set up a makeshift medic bay in the lunch area, and we’ve moved some of the men in there.”
“Alright, well, let’s get to work getting everyone comfortable. I will call our family doc as well and have him come out here to help. Then we need to start getting the really badly injured people to the hospital.”
Rickie glances over at me, looking confused.
“Rickie, this is my wife, Darya, uh, Dubrov-Napoli.”
“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry I didn’t introduce myself, I didn’t know. I mean, I knew there was going to be a wedding, I guess—"
“Don’t worry about it at all. Let’s help these guys. Will you show me where I can find some first aid kits?”
“Of course, follow me. So far no one is injured enough to need to go to the hospital. We also have an in-house doctor here, and he has done the basics, like stitches, where needed.”
I follow behind them, slightly bewildered at how efficiently she took control of involving herself in this chaos. I thought I was going to have to be babysitting her while I tried to sort things out. I also did not actually expect it to be this bad. I had no idea they had used such an amount of force to break in. I guess I should have been paying more attention to the phone call and less attention to trying to hide it from Darya.
While she is busy gathering what she needs from the medical supplies, I run over the products that were taken and destroyed. We're going to suffer a hefty loss because of it.
“Okay, well, when we have everyone safe and taken care of, we can sit down and deal with that. For now, let’s try help everyone and clean up this mess.”
Rickie nods and heads back out to the warehouse. I turn to ask Darya what she plans to do, but she is already gone.
What in the world?
I grab a first aid kit and rush out of the room.
Darya is kneeling on the floor next to one of my workers. She grabs someone’s jacket from the floor and rolls it into a makeshift pillow. I can’t take my eyes off her.
She speaks gently to the man, who is clearly in pain with a massive gash on his left leg where the explosion must have sent a shard of something through the air with force.
She is gentle and patient when she speaks to him, and in no time at all he looks calmer.
She cuts a piece of his jeans away from his leg and works to disinfect and then wrap the wound until the doctor can get to him.
***
All afternoon she moves from person to person. Helping with bigger wounds which could easily have freaked a grown man out, but handling it with grace and ease, and then also doing small compassionate things, too, like fetching a glass of water or making a cup of tea for the men helping.
Around midday she disappears again, and I find myself looking for her. Even though we haven't interacted much today because both of us have been busy helping everyone, I do like to have my eyes on her.
When she comes back, I wander over to her.
“How are you, sweetheart?”
She tilts her head towards me with her brows knotted. “I’m alright. I just ordered lunch for everyone. I went with something simple, burgers and fries. They should arrive in the next thirty minutes.”
I can’t get over how thoughtful she is. I have been helping everyone, but I didn’t even think about food. I guess I have been helping and very lost in thought over her.
I step close to her and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her against my body.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, leaning close to her face.
A soft smile crosses her lips. “It’s not a problem. I just want to help where I can.”
“You have been amazing. Honestly, I—uh—I’m kind of taken by surprise.” I chuckle.
“Why would my being helpful take you by surprise?” She doesn’t look impressed with that comment.
“I guess—I didn’t mean—I just—"
“You didn’t know I could get my hands dirty with everyone else?” she chuckles this time, noticing my awkwardness.
I nod, grinning down at her.
“Well, I’m going to get back to it.”
“Don’t you need a break?”
“Not until everyone is comfortable.”
She is already walking away from me, and I can do nothing but shake my head after her.
Her compassionate and caring nature has turned me on, and now is not the right time to be turned on.
I grab a fresh first-aid kit and head back into the warehouse. What is it about this girl that drives me so crazy?
And every time I think we are about to share an intimate moment, something seems to happen, and it cuts us off. I want her so badly. I want to know what it is like to feel her naked body against mine.
Shit.
I clear my throat loudly, realizing that my body is starting to react to my thoughts, and now really, definitely, is not the right time .
***
When the lunch order arrives, Darya goes around handing out burgers and insisting that everyone takes a break, but doesn’t take a one herself, going from person to person to see if they are alright.
She has the most beautiful heart.
“Here you go,” she says, handing me a takeaway burger and fries.
“Not right now, thanks,” I say, feeling ridiculously hungry, but not able to let myself take a break if she isn’t as well.
“You have to eat, Stef,” she says sternly.
Stef. Mm. That’s the first time she did not use my full name. I kind of like how it sounds on her lips.
“Well, Darya, if you take a break and eat something with me, then I will.”
“I can’t, I just need to—"
“No. You don’t need to anything except for take a break with your husband.”
She rolls her eyes, but I grab her hand, fetch an extra burger, and pull her towards the corner of the warehouse, where we sit on a wooden crate.
I open her burger box for her. “Do you want the sauce?”
“The mayo, not the ketchup,” she smiles.
“You don’t like ketchup?” I say with fake horror.
She laughs, and her voice sounds like music to my ears.
“I just like the mayo better,” Darya shrugs.
I hand her the opened burger with mayo splashed across the fries and then throw some ketchup onto my own.
We sit quietly, looking over the warehouse—or, more accurately, she is looking over the warehouse, and I am just watching her.
She looks tired but determined. There is this look in her eye that is full of focus.
“Thank you, Darya,” I say.
“You don’t have to thank me, Stef. Of course, I want to help wherever I can.”
“I know; I just honestly didn’t expect you to be so good at it. You are full of surprises. Not very many people can impress me, but you seem to do it often.”
“I do?” she asks, sounding curiously surprised.
“Of course, you do. You are a beautiful, strong, talented woman with the most amazing heart. I’m just saying—I got lucky.”
She giggles nervously but tries to hide it by covering her mouth with her hand.
She takes another bite of her burger and chews thoughtfully.
After a moment, she turns towards me.
“What happened, Stef? Do you know who did this and why?”
I sigh. My first instinct is to tell her not to worry about all of that again, but she already knows, and she is here helping. She has proven that she wants to be here with me.
I swallow what I was chewing. “I found out the other day that my stepfather made a dirty deal with a big name in the mafia. He owed him some money, and of course the guy has carried that debt over to me. He’s not up for reasoning about it and is coming in pretty hot insisting I pay it.”
“So this whole thing was him?”
“Marco Colombo. Maybe, no, I don’t have any evidence to prove it. I get a lot of threatening phone calls, but I do assume it’s him. He’s been the most prominent pain in my side lately. He was, uh, the one who shot at us the other night.”
“Then you know who it is? I know of him, my brothers would make quick work of this situation.”
“I know who it is, but I don’t need help, and I am sorting it out myself.”
She throws her head to the side, as if to say are you, though?
“I am sorting it out. I have already told him I'll pay, which is why I'm surprised, if this is him. Perhaps he thought I would have paid already. I am not happy about having to pay anything linked to my father’s debts, though. He caused me enough shit in my life to not still be causing me shit after he's dead,” I huff, annoyed all over again.
“Stef, you should not have to pay for that man’s shit. Just ask my brothers for help. They will resolve this quickly and you won’t ever hear from that idiot, Marco, again.”
“Darya, your brothers already have too much power over me. I don’t want to owe them any more than I already do. I don’t like to be indebted to anyone.”
Her eyes shoot wide as though what I have just said is absolutely ridiculous. “Stef, that isn’t how it is at all—my brothers don’t see it that way. It’s not a power struggle. That’s just—"
“Oh shit.” I completely forgot.
“What?”
“I have a meeting set up with them late this afternoon. What is the time now?”
She glances at her watch.
“Four-thirty.”
“We have to go. Let me just chat to the guys here, make sure they have everything, and then we really have to get going.”
She nods, putting down her half-eaten burger and following me to finish up some final things. In the bathroom, I splash some water on my face, wash my hands and try to freshen up as best I can.
In the office, I grab a fresh shirt from the closet and a long-sleeved cotton top for Darya, as that is all I have to offer her. Both of our tops are dirty with blood from helping the injured men, and I would rather we didn’t arrive at the meeting looking like a wreck.
She takes the fresh top from me and pulls off her dirty one. My eyes lock on the delicate blue lace bra she is wearing. My entire body ignites at the sight of her.
She pulls the top over her head and rolls the sleeves a little, then tucks the edge into her jeans. She looks fresh and beautiful. I don’t know how she does it. She looks amazing in anything.
When we are ready, we grab our belongings and rush to the car.
I hate being late, and I especially do not want to be late for a meeting with the Dubrov brothers.
In the car, the tension we had this morning is gone. It has been replaced by a different kind of tension. A charge to the air. I reach out and run my hand over her thigh.
“You really are special,” I say gently.
Her cheeks flush red and the soft smile that crosses her lips makes me realize how vulnerable I just sounded. I clear my throat loudly and put my hand back on the steering wheel.
I am not used to letting my guard down in any way for anyone.