12. Willow
12
WILLOW
I practically drove myself insane in the two hours between Dimitri's last text and the moment his driver arrived, to say nothing of the drive to his penthouse, but once I'm actually inside, it's not nearly as stressful as I thought it might be, thanks to the buffer provided by handfuls of puppies and their veterinarian.
I'm sorry she leaves, about half an hour after I arrive, if only because I don't know what to do with myself. Dimitri shows her to the door, and I brace myself, keeping my eyes on the pups, bundled up in one corner of the pen. The adults all look so scared. The puppies, less so; one even wanders up to me, and I bend to let him sniff my hand. His little mouth closes around my finger.
"No teeth, little one," I admonish gently, reluctantly withdrawing my hand.
It didn't hurt, but I remember from the puppies one of our neighbors was raising in the trailer park that we're supposed to show to dogs early that they should never play bite. I fish for one of the many chew toys in the bag of supplies next to the pen, and when the little blue-fluffed terror starts nibbling at it, I stroke his head and coo, "That's it, buhbah."
"Somehow, I knew you'd be good at this."
Flushing again like a damn idiot, I lift my head to find Dimitri leaning against the doorframe and staring at me.
"One of my neighbors bred pups when I was little. Bigger than these, but I figured the rules are the same."
"No clue." He straightens up. "I've never had a pet."
Somehow, when I think about it, that doesn't surprise me. "Me neither." Though I certainly would have liked one. "So how did you end up with all these?"
"An associate found them on a site he was clearing up."
"And you volunteered to take care of all of them?" I question.
That is baffling.
"I volunteered you ," he amends, smirking. "Petsitting isn't in my repertoire. I figured it'd be in yours."
I bristle at his tone, not enjoying how…available he made me sound. Like, we weren't even talking a week ago; why would he assume I'd help him?
Because he's Dimitri Volkov, that's why. When has he ever not gotten what he wants?
"How did you know I didn't have anything better to do?" I ask for the sake of it.
Actually, what I should have asked is, how did you know I'd ever answer your text , given that we haven't talked in forever, but that might invite a discussion about my two-year-long avoidance tactics, which I'd much rather not have.
"I didn't. But if push came to shove, I could have taken pictures of the puppies and lured you over with their cuteness. Or you know." He shrugs.
Part of me expects him to suggest kidnapping. Instead, he says, "Text the next bleeding heart on my contact list."
I…like that option less than the one that popped into my head, butI refuse to let it bother me. "You have a lot of those, huh?"
I almost sound like myself. Almost.
"Fewer than you'd think. And the number of those I'd let into my apartment is much smaller."
"Why, scared they'll trash the place?"
I look around. It's a very nice place. Brushed dark gray walls, a floor-to-ceiling window panorama all around, letting in so much light. There's far too much space. A spiral staircase leads up to an upper floor, and down to a lower one, so I guess he has at least three floors, which in Upper East Side terms, is insanely expensive. This room doesn't have much. A large, comfortable-looking cream sofa, a giant soft wool rug I just want to feel under my bare feet, and one dramatic, red grand piano. I spot a minibar along the wall, some decor—twin large paintings, one all black with red splashes, the other, all red with black, and a metal wolf head. That's about it.
"More like, terrified they'd glue themselves to the floor and never leave."
I snort."I bet that happens on a weekly basis."
"It might, if I invited, well, anyone here."
I shake my head. "What a waste of space." And because it has to be said, I ask, "All of this room just for you and your wife?"
I'm watching him closely enough to see a smirk curve up his lips. Dammit. The smug bastard is glad I brought it up.
"Irina lives in Florida, petal. And when she's in the city, she stays in her apartment, in the village."
Irina. That's her name. I haven't forgotten it exactly; it's more like, I don't let myself think about her, that woman I've never met, never wanted to meet. There's likely nothing wrong with her. She's pretty. No, scratch that. Beautiful. Maybe she's nice. Clever.
I never want to find out.
Her very existence badly damaged my self-worth two years ago. Thinking further on the why isn't good for me. It's not that he chose her over me; it's that I was never in the running anywhere but in my imagination. I've spent enough time on a couch to know this. Nothing regarding his relationship is about me.
Dammit. Why did I bring it up?
Mere hours around the guy and I'm back to my terrible habits.
Drop it. Drop it and get the hell out of here.
Instead, I open my mouth, and words come out: "So, you're one of those long-distance couples, huh?"
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I don't need to know, dammit.
"Actually, we're one of those on paper couples. The union made sense business-wise. That's all it ever was."
I can barely hear a thing over the sound of my rapid heartbeats. I make myself huff out a chuckle. "I've seen pictures of her. You can't tell me you haven't screwed her."
None. Of. Your. Damn. Business!
Dimitri takes a moment to reply, which takes me he's either going to lie, or word his answer very carefully."Sex means very little to either of us."
I'm not sure whether he means him and me, or him and his wife.
"We don't have a relationship."
"Right. Just the ring, the party, and all the I dos," I counter with an eye roll."I guess you can join the long line of failed marriages, then."
"I wouldn't say that. A marriage is a contract, with specific expectations. We're both fulfilling our ends."
Let it go. Change the subject.
"Good for you." I clear my throat, proud of myself for making the right move. Aka, not fucking asking about his damn marriage. Two years ago, I would have. "Anyway, I can't look after the dogs forever, you know. I have a job. A life."
Not to mention, an appointment for a now much-needed video shoot. I need to blow off some steam. My Ruby Red videos always help with that.
"Yes, I heard. How is that going?"
Terribly . If it had been Morgan, or my roommate, I'd rant about all the reasons why my job sucks. But we're not friends. He's just my brother-in-law's extended family. There needs to be a damn line.
"It's okay. I just started a couple of weeks before the holidays. Hard to judge in such a short time."
"Fair. Well, if you can handle the pups for the weekend, I'll have someone take over starting Monday." He points to the piano, and I spot an envelope on top of it."Your cash."
Right. I forgot about that bit."You’re paying me a thousand bucks a day for hanging out in your insane penthouse apartment with puppies."
"You’ll get your pay docked if they chew or piss on my favorite rug," he quips.
"Oh, the horror. Not docked pay for a favor I would have gladly done for free." I have to roll my eyes.
Dimitri's green eyes return to mine. "Nothing is ever free, petal."