Chapter 15
TOMMY
I run so hard my legs threaten to give out. Then I run a little harder. It’s the only way I know to burn up the radioactive energy blistering my insides. That damn woman is going to drive me insane.
Danika is Biba’s daughter. I thought that realization was enough to give me an aneurysm but add to it the fact that Biba wants to force her into a marriage with The Reaper, and I was blacking out with fury. The fucking Reaper.
Never.
Going.
To happen.
I’d rather kill her myself than hand her over to that psychopath.
Not that it would come to that when marrying me would remove The Reaper from the equation.
Biba’s going to be pissed, but he can suck a bag of dicks.
Piece of shit motherfucker using his own daughter as a bargaining chip—makes me sick.
Danika deserves so much better, and I’ll give it to her if she’ll let me. If being the keyword. I could see the shock and despair written all over her face after my proposal. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a proposal, but the point is, she was horrified.
Her rejection was a spoon carving out my insides.
I know we’ve only known each other a week.
I know that I’ve held her hostage and threatened her, but I’ve tried to explain myself.
I’ve tried to show her the things I’m not good at saying—that I want to help her.
That I desperately want her to want me. I’m beyond obsessed with her.
Every minute I spend with her, every touch and taste of her, only solidifies my madness.
Jesus , the taste of her.
And the way she responded to my touch? Everything I ever could have dreamed of, only to be dashed away when she tried to mince words and squirm away from a life beside me.
The problem is, I’m not made to charm. I’m logical and practical and blunt.
I tend to see things in black and white, which is why reluctance on her part feels like complete rejection.
My defenses were up before I had a chance to calm myself, which only made me sound that much more frigid.
Not the ideal way to convince her I’m worthy of her surrender.
Now, I don’t know what she’ll choose, and I hate the uncertainty.
As if you’ll give her up if she chooses to go.
True. I’ve already started planning for the fallout of our marriage.
It’ll create ripples. Renzo’s going to be furious, but he can share that bag of dicks with Biba because he married a woman from the Irish outfit.
He has no room to argue about me wanting a woman linked to the Russians.
This is happening, even if I’m the only goddamn person on board.
When I get back to the apartment, Danika is cooking breakfast. We didn’t talk much during the rest of the evening, so I’m not sure what she’s thinking regarding my offer.
I want to demand an answer to alleviate my suspense, but that would be selfish.
I’ve already been an ass. The least I can do is not force the issue any further.
Besides, now that I’m back in the apartment, I’m plenty distracted, keeping control of my dick while she walks around my kitchen in those tiny pajama shorts she wears.
When she reaches for an upper cabinet, I can see the tiniest bit of ass cheek peeking out.
It makes me hungry for a hell of a lot more than eggs.
“Hey, I hope you don’t mind.” She flashes a shy smile. “I was hungry and thought I’d get breakfast started.”
Smile at me like that and you can do whatever the hell you want.
As soon as the thought drifts across my mind, I realize it’s true.
She’s frying the eggs rather than scrambling them, which is how I make them, and she’s using the wrong pan, yet I hardly notice.
My fixation on her is practically rewiring my brain.
Things that seemed important a week ago aren’t even registering.
I wipe up a dab of raw egg on the counter—some things are too ingrained to be overlooked. “If you’re going to be my wife, my home is your home.” Okay, so I didn’t leave it alone, but I didn’t force an answer, either. I’ll call it a win.
She turns toward me as though she’s going to say something before her gaze sweeps down my sweat-soaked body. Gold-flecked heat flashes in her eyes when they return to mine.
“Um…” she says distractedly. “Okay.”
Yeah, Danika Dobrev is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
When the phone rings, she answers, and I take over at the stove as though we’ve been together for years. A natural transition that is so minor in the grand scheme of things but fills me with hope.
“Mom, I told you when we texted earlier, it’s not safe there.
” She listens to her mother’s reply before continuing.
“This new friend I’m staying with, his name is Tommy.
He said he’d find a place for you guys to stay.
Listen, he’ll tell you.” She puts the phone on speaker and stares at me pleadingly.
“Danika’s very worried for you. I’m happy to help get a place and make sure you and your mother are safe while we deal with Biba.” I meant to work on it yesterday but was too distracted by the evening’s bombshell of revelations.
Petra Dobrev’s voice is firm when she responds. “That’s very generous of you to offer, but we don’t want to go into hiding. This is our home.”
“Mom,” Danika says with exasperation. “You know it’ll only get worse if Biba sends one of his men over again. He could kill you next time.”
“He won’t do that,” Petra counters.
“You don’t know that,” Danika insists. The two are both adamant, and I have no idea who will win.
“No, you don’t know him. I do. While I don’t like to admit it, I spent a year with that man. I know him, and I’m not scared of him. Besides, Gran’s cousin is helping us install a security system. We’ll be safe, I promise.”
Danika sighs and slumps against the counter. “I know how bullheaded you are, so I’m not going to fight with you about it, but I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time, sweet girl,” her mother says gently. “If something changes, I promise you I’ll reconsider, okay?”
“Okay,” she says in a weary voice. “I better get going. Breakfast is ready. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, baby.”
Danika ends the call and takes the plate I’ve made for her to the bar. It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out how frustrating it is to have the person you’re trying to protect defy you and endanger themselves, but I have enough sense to keep that thought to myself.
“She’ll come around,” I assure her as I join her with my plate.
“You don’t know my mother. She’s stubborn like you wouldn’t believe. It’s one of the best and worst things about her.”
“You guys get along, though?” I’m genuinely curious. I haven’t heard her talk much about her family.
Danika takes a bite of eggs, waiting to answer until she’s swallowed. “Yeah, we do. It helps that I’m pretty chill. But maybe that’s why I go with the flow. If I didn’t, we probably would have killed one another a long time ago.” Her gaze drops to her plate, worry wafting off her in waves.
“Biba’s not going to kill his only leverage—that wouldn’t help him get you back,” I remind her. “But if it would make you feel better, I could always force the issue.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you may not be able to force them into hiding, but I can. I could take your mom and grandmother somewhere safe and make sure they stay there.”
“You’d do that for me?” The gratitude in her eyes sinks hooks deep into my heart, anchoring me to her in ways I can’t explain.
You’d be terrified if you knew the lengths I’d go to for you.
“Just say the word.”
Her gentle smile deconstructs the world as I knew it and rebuilds it with her at its center. “Not just yet, but I appreciate your offer. Thank you, Tommy.”
I grunt and fill my mouth with food before I can tell her in graphic detail all the ways she can thank me. No need to fuck up the progress I’ve just made by giving her a front-row seat to the twisted shit in my head. I’ll save that for later, after we’re married.
We both spend the day working. Well, I assume she’s working.
I’m too busy dealing with all the crap on my plate to be sure what she’s doing.
I have a wedding to plan, a war to prevent, and a job that still demands my attention.
By evening, I’m exhausted. Not the best timing for Sante to show up and pick a fight.
“I get where you’re coming from, man. I do. But she’s his fucking daughter ,” he argues, wearing on my last fucking nerve. “You can’t steal her like that. He’ll come after the entire organization to retaliate.”
I’m quickly regretting the decision to update him on the Danika situation.
“It’s only genetics. She’d never even met the man until he tried to sell her off to The Reaper.” I’m on my feet, my hands out wide in exasperation.
“Doesn’t make a difference, Tommy, and you know it.”
“So I’m just supposed to hand her over? That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it,” I yell back at him.
“Don’t get pissy with me. I’m just trying to talk some sense into you. I know how you can get.”
I stiffen. His words sound an awful lot like something my brother would say.
“Did I try to talk you out of moving across the globe to claim a girl you hardly knew?”
“No, but you called her a piece of ass,” he bites back bitterly.
“Yeah, and you put me in my place for it. That’s what I’m doing here.” I point an angry finger and practically hiss at him. “I’m telling you she’s fucking worth it—whatever it is. If you can’t back me on that, then get the fuck out of my house.”
Sante stills as he studies me, his hands propping resignedly on his hips. “You’re telling me this is it?” he asks in a solemn tone.
I’m not entirely sure what he’s asking, but either way, the answer is yes. I give a single nod.
“Alright, then. If she’s the one, I’m behind you one hundred percent.” He extends a hand, and I take it, relieved to know my best friend still has my back.
“Renzo’s gonna be pissed,” I warn him.
“We wouldn’t be family if we didn’t piss each other off. Now, come on. Let’s have a drink.”