21. Willow
21
WILLOW
W hile the building looked dark and quiet outside, we walk into a fully lit, busy space, with people running up and down the grand stone staircase, not even taking a moment to look at the carved ceilings, the sculptures, the stained glass.
"Are you secretly Prince Charming?" I ask, only half kidding.
It seriously looks like I walked into a fairy tale.
"A little much, huh?" Dimitri places his hand on the small of my back, and I try to ignore how my skin lights up, even through my coat and many layers of clothing, at the simple touch. "The design was my father’s. He liked being extra. And to your question, no, actually, though my father's family does descend from a line of dukes. The Goltzins were closer to the Romanovs than the Volkovs. If you wanted a prince, you should have snatched one of my little cousins."
I shake my head. "I don't know when you're joking."
"That's rather easy. Never."
"Sir," one man says, frowning.He's wearing a knee-length white coat, and holding a tablet. A doctor? "You were not expected. Apologies for the general chaos."
"No apology necessary, Matthew. I expected the chaos. I was rather hoping to show my young friend here to the care room, if you would."
Matthew's eyes widen as they focus on me. "Sir, the newcomers are rather shaken."
Dimitri nods. "Yes, and that's something Willow ought to understand."
Matthew nods, and offers me his hand. "Doctor Matthew Stevens."
"Willow Brown."
"A pleasure. If you would follow me."
I have no clue what we're doing here, but clearly, Dimitri does. I get the feeling demanding clarification isn't going to help much. Besides, I'm too tired for questions. Instead, I follow Dr. Stevens, Dimitri's hand still on the small of my back.
We descend one flight of stairs, arriving into a large hall that might have served as a ballroom, maybe. Today, it's an infirmary, with two dozen cots, all occupied. There are about twenty women, and a few men, a few asleep, others weeping or staring into space.
It's the kind of scene I'd expect after a war. After something too horrifying to put into words.
Doctor Stevens is speaking. At first, I can't make sense of his words.
"We have rescued twenty-one individuals this time. One took his own life—an oversight. His nurse shouldn't have left the scalpel so close. Two needed surgery—they're now out of danger and recuperating. Everyone else is on their way to recovery. All will need psychiatric help before we can talk about what they'd like to do with their lives now."
"What…" The whisper barely left my lips. "What is this?"
"The sex trade," Dimitri deadpans. "Not the fun little hobby you've made of it. The other side. What could and likely would have happened to you, if Tom had gotten you out alive."
The doctor looks between Dimitri and me. "The young lady isn't aware of the business, sir?" There's a hint of disapproval in his tone.
"No. She's a little naive, and needed a wake-up call. Please return to your duties, Matthew. You were most helpful."
The doctor nods and leaves. As for me, I don't look away from Dimitri, mostly because I can't. I just can't look at these people, so desperate and broken.
Some of them look young. The boy closest to us? Very young.
"What's this place?"
"My home. I believe I already made that clear. I mostly live in the city, so when needed, I lend it to Doctor Stevens here as a temporary haven for those we pull out of the flesh trade."
I can only blink.
"Tell me again how you know what you're doing, Willow. Say you're better than any of them. I dare you." Dimitri takes one step towards me, and I step back instinctively, catching the cold edge in those eyes. "This could have been you. If you weren't the luckiest little girl in New York City, it would have been."
"I…" An apology is at the tip of my tongue. I swallow it back. I have too many questions. "You're helping them? These people. You aren't going to…"
"What?" He chuckles. "What do you think I could be doing to them?"
"Nothing." This time, I don't make it a question. "You're helping them."
He stares at me for a long moment, and finally says, "You're done with Ruby Red."
Like me, he's not asking. And he's right. I honestly feel ashamed about the fact that in my little bubble, I didn't even think of the possibility of ending up beaten, with fresh cuts, bruises, and dead eyes. Broken. To me, that was the kind of thing that happened to other people on the street, never me.
But without Dimitri's surveillance, it could have been me tonight. It would have.
"Good. This way."
We leave the hall, to my relief.
"Is there anything I can help with?" I ask, guilt twisting my guts. "These people…"
"They'll have around-the-clock care until they've recovered. You're the one here for help, not the other way around."
"Help?" I ask, confused.
We reach a door, and he knocks. "One minute!" a tired voice answers.
Then there are footsteps, and it opens in front of a kindly faced, beautiful blonde.
My jaw falls. "Doctor Palmer?"
How the hell is my shrink here?
She looks up to Dimitri. "This is a surprise."
"Willow had an experience tonight. I figured she may want to chat."
"Ah. I see. Well, I'm with one of the patients from Mishka's latest trip, but if you’ll give me ten, fifteen minutes?"
"Not a problem," Dimitri replies. "We'll be up in the lounge."
And then she's returning inside to her patient.
My mind is spinning as Dimitri leads us back the way we've come. "Doctor Palmer?" is all I manage to say.
He shrugs. "When Morgan mentioned you'd like to see someone, I recommended her. She's private. Nothing you ever say will make it out."
"Not even to you?"
He chuckles. "Especially not to me. She respects the women she helps."
We walk up to the first floor. The noise and busyness fade away as he closes the door of a warm, dark wood and red office. They must have excellent sound isolation.
I can barely make sense of everything I've seen the last few minutes.
Seated on a cozy armchair, I wordlessly take the tumbler he hands me, grateful for the warmth of the amber liquid, burning its way down my throat.
These people. Doctor Palmer. Doctor Matthews.
Only one thing is certain.
Dimitri Volkov isn't the man I thought he was. I was always attracted to the edge, the air of danger and control around him. From everything I've known, everything I've seen and heard, I realized that he was involved in businesses that weren't all entirely legal. But I never thought he could be a bad man. Dangerous, yes. Bad? Never.
Today I learned how mistaken I was. I thought he was not a monster. I never would have guessed he was a fucking saint.
"You pull people out of the sex trade and help them." And here I had been shocked about him helping puppies. This is next level.
"Don't make it sound like it's such a feat. Most will never integrate into regular society again. And a good half will keep selling their cunts and cocks, too."
"Will they be forced to do it?" I challenge, knowing the answer. "Will they be hurt?"
"Never under my care. But I still profit from having employees blindly, perpetually loyal to me."
"Because you've proven yourself worthy of blind, perpetual loyalty."
"And here you were, telling me how I couldn't stop you from showing your cunt online half an hour ago. What a change of heart," he teases, taking a seat opposite me. Then all humor leaves his expression. "I do apologize, by the way. I shouldn't have touched you tonight, right after you were attacked. I have a bit of a temper. You endangering yourself made me snap."
Because he understood a lot more than me what could have happened to me. God, I feel so fucking foolish for everything I've done so far. How do I even begin to explain it to myself, let alone to him?
"As Ruby Red Heart, I feel wanted. And I need that. I don't know how to get it otherwise." My eyes remain on my now half-empty drink.
"Do you know why I call you petal?" he asks after a long silence.
I shake my head.
"I didn't know your name; I can't say I remember every little girl introduced to me. But I remembered that look. The way your eyes would follow your sister. Follow Cam. And you'd blush whenever she was talking to any of her friends. Even to me.I called you petal then, because you made it clear you knew what lifestyle your sister had chosen."
I make a face. "I mean, doesn’t everyone know they fuck around? If it was a secret, they should make it less blatant."
He laughs. "It’s not a secret, but some people judge. Anyway, it was always clear you knew and even clearer that you wanted that sort of lifestyle too. I figured you’d find your way to the Heritage eventually. But you never did."
I think about the H adorning my sister's necklace, and Camden's ring, and Rhys's bracelet.My friend Nadia has the exact same necklace as my sister, and earrings, too.Almost everyone I know has one. Dimitri's is on some of his cufflinks. He doesn't wear them all the time, though; sometimes, he just wears his wolf.
I figured out a long time ago the H was proof that they all belong to a club, and as they're all swingers, it was logical that the Heritage was how they met.
"I thought I'd be invited eventually, too," I admit, hiding my frustration. "But it’s not exactly an open club, is it. No one has ever offered to take me, although plenty of my classmates are with you guys."
I sigh. Maybe it's because I was younger than Nadia and the rest. Maybe I'm just not the kind of girl they went there.
Dimitri nods once. "I’m guessing it has something to do with your confidence. You appear unavailable."
"Unavailable?" That's ridiculous.
"Kids your age are insecure hormonal messes. You’re likely the only one with the poise that says, I know my place. I know my worth."
"I see." At least, I think I see. "And that’s not attractive, I'm guessing."
"It’s fucking hot, Willow," he assures me. "But it’s not what young guys’ egos can handle.I will let you into the Heritage, petal. The only thing I want in exchange is the promise that you're done with Ruby Red Heart."
"I'm done. I don't need anything in exchange. I…didn't realize how foolish it was, to believe I could be safe. You don't need to extend a pity invite," I assure him.
I've already embarrassed myself enough for five lifetimes where he's concerned.The last thing I need is for Dimitri to pity me.
He looks like he's about to say something when someone knocks. I expect Doctor Palmer, but instead, the door opens in front of another blonde.
She's tall. Incredibly tall, and that's without counting the added four inches of Louboutin heels. And slender. And put together in a way I could never be. She's dressed all in white, in a tailored suit, the fabric a little shiny. The jacket's descending into a V between her tits. I don't think she's wearing anything underneath. I could never wear something like that; my boobs would just spill out of it.
In short, the pictures didn't do her justice.
Dimitri stands, and she rushes to join him kissing both of his cheeks. "Dima. Stevens said you were up here. What a coincidence. I didn't think I'd catch you."
"Irina. Lovely to see you. This is Willow."
I hate how good they look together, how familiar they seem around each other.
"Of course. Aren't you adorable?" she says, with that smile.
We all know it. Ninety-nine percent sweet, one percent condescending. It's the one percent that matters. We women pick up on it, while it passes way, way above most men's heads.
"I’ve heard so much about you, Willow. Dima is so very fond of you."
"Is he now?" I have never smiled so hard in my entire existence.
"Well, yes. I remember, at our wedding, when your sister said you couldn't come, I was devastated. I'd really hope to meet you. Now, Dima, since I caught you here, do you mind looking at the documents I sent through a couple of hours ago? It's just so much easier to discuss in person."
"Not tonight, Irina. I'll look in the morning."
She sighs. "Fine. Have your fun. I'll call tomorrow night, yes?"
She sends me an air kiss, and is out as fast as she came in.
I've never let myself feel any sort of way about that woman before.
His wife.
Now, I've met her, and I know exactly what to think.
I hate her fucking guts.
And for some reason, although I'm no one to Dimitri, and she must know that, She hates me right back.
This is exhausting.