Chapter 18
TALIN
Ipause at the front door of the only home I’ve ever known and turn to my husband. He’s in jeans, a cashmere sweater, an outfit I practically picked out for him. “Now, I’m going to say this because you didn’t complain about coming here one single time—“
“It’s your family, Tallie. This is normal for a married couple.”
“We’re not a married couple.” I pat a hand to his chest to shut him up. “But since you didn’t complain, I won’t make you stay late. We’re out the door by eight.”
He laughs and moves my hand away, tugging me closer. “What if I have a nice time?”
“You won’t.”
“I like your siblings.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Papa only wants you here to pick your brain about security stuff. Ever since that break-in and what happened to Davit—“ His grip on me slackens and he looks away like he’s ashamed of something. I wonder if it’s his work or the way the family loves to use him for what he knows.
“But Davit’s fine and nobody even knows what the burglar took.
Or at least one person does, and he’s not saying. ”
“I don’t know how much I can help, but I’ll try anyway.”
“I know you will. That’s why you’re getting out early.” I kiss him gently. It’s so familiar and normal now, and he barely reacts to it. As if we’re actually a couple.
The shift’s been slow. He’s been staying home every night for the past week, and he was right, I did have to get used to him being around more often.
But not in a bad way—I found myself wanting to talk his ear off, bugging him about minor things, chatting away about decorations and places we could go eat, treating him like my husband.
I kept waiting for him to disappear and pull away.
Except he didn’t.
He stuck around. At night, we’d have sex—sweaty, passionate, boundary pushing in a positive way—and during the day he’d only leave for a few hours at a time like a relatively normal person. We’ve gone out to dinner twice, lunch three times, and each time he held my hand on the walk back home.
Last night, he told me about Vegas. He talked about the job, how it went wrong, how the fallout nearly killed him, how Alexan and his sister saved his life, and how he feels like he owes the family now.
Except owing them is not far from being owned by them.
What’s left unspoken is what happens in the future once the job is done, when he’s got his blackmail material and rides off into the sunset.
Do I follow him? Tag along like a lost puppy? Or do I find my own way?
And what would that even look like?
My life’s been a straight, narrow road, with clearly marked stops along the way.
I haven’t had to worry about work, money, purpose, anything like that.
Papa provided everything in abundance. Sure, I wasn’t as pretty as Annie, not as charming or nearly as clever and outgoing, but I still knew what was expected of me.
If I kept on walking forward, doing as I was told, the next goal would appear in the distance.
Maybe it was a mirage, but at least I had a direction.
Without all that, who would I be?
The thought of casting myself adrift is terrifying, but it’s also exciting, and this past week has given me a very small taste of it.
Because Brenden expects nothing of me. He asks nothing too. No responsibilities, no meetings, no charitable events, no partners to meet, no smoky rooms or glittering gowns.
Just the two of us trying to fill the days.
Annie answers the door, no surprise there. She wraps me in a tight hug and I’m briefly overwhelmed. I haven’t seen her since the party. We went from spending all our time together to being ripped apart, and I didn’t think it would hit me this hard. I mean, she’s such a pain in the ass.
“I’m really happy you’re here,” she says, beaming and wiping her eyes.
“I am too.” I hug her again. “But stop acting like I died or something. I only moved to a different house.”
“That’s practically forever away.”
She greets Brenden kindly enough and brings us inside. Sam and Davit are waiting in the billiards room, but Brenden gets intercepted by Papa. “Time to work,” my husband says in my ear, kissing my cheek. “See you soon.” He gets pulled away and I’m left with my siblings.
“I’m fine,” Davit says, waving me away when I try to hug him and flutter around him. When I heard a burglar choked him out, I nearly lost my mind. Poor little Davit, he’s so sensitive, it must’ve been terrible.
“He’s not fine,” Sam says as he strikes a shot at the pool table. The balls clack and he misses. “He’s pretending, but at night he wakes up screaming in terror.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s true. He comes into my bed and snuggles against me like a little child. I’m so kind that I hold him until he falls asleep.”
“I’m fine,” Davit insists again, ignoring Sam. “All that’s bothering me now is why it even happened.” Davit’s gaze drifts to the bar where apparently there’s a hidden safe, found empty.
“You know why.” Annie’s dismissive as she opens champagne and pours me some.
“We all know why,” Sam agrees, taking the bottle and swigging straight from the neck. Annie makes a disgusted face.
“You really think it was for something Papa had hidden?” I wring my hands together, not sure what to think. “I mean, all the years we’ve been here, nobody’s ever broke in like that.”
“That we know of.” Sam’s tone takes a dark cast. “You think Papa tells us anything?”
“You’ve got this place wired up.” Davit takes a shot and sinks a ball with a triumphant grin. “Bet you were pretty pissed about it, huh?”
Sam glares at his brother. The two of them are almost opposites. Sam pretends like he doesn’t care, like life’s one big joke, while Davit can’t help but care about everything.
“It shouldn’t have happened.” Sam’s blunt tone makes Annie change the subject diplomatically.
“Let’s talk about our dear sister’s return and how she’s faring with her husband, shall we?”
“Can we not?”
“No, we shall,” Davit agrees. “Tell us everything.”
What follows is a mortifying and annoying grilling from siblings who I think should be a little less willing to ask such personal questions.
We’re probably too close, now that I think about it.
I’m saved only when Mother drifts into the room, willowy under her light blue dress, a martini in a tiny bulb glass perched between her fingers.
“Meal, children.” Her glassy eyes slide over me like I’m furniture.
Araxie Sarkissian is almost never present, even when she’s in the room.
When I was little I thought she was a fairy, her mind still trapped in the Fae Realm.
Now I know she takes a lot of pills and loves to drink.
She wasn’t a bad mom, but she sure as hell wasn’t a good one.
Brenden and Papa are already at the table talking shop.
Papa’s throwing questions at Brenden who answers as plainly as he can, shooting me looks like he’s about to lose his mind, but he’s patient about the whole thing.
Once we’re together, Sam joins in on the security talk, to Papa’s dismay and frustration, and takes over it altogether.
“You really think the hardware doesn’t matter?” Sam sounds aghast like it’s genuine blasphemy.
“Real security is about two things: identification and response time. The hardware triggers the event, but the response time is everything.”
“I can see that,” Papa booms, trying to assert himself.
Sam waves his glass. “But you can’t respond if you don’t know the thief’s there, as we learned already.”
“A proper thief typically can’t be stopped by much.”
“You might be a bit biased,” I say, bored by the conversation already.
Sam nags at Brenden some more, but dinner gets served and Annie manages to steer the conversation to more acceptable places, like gossip about friends and former classmates.
Through it all, Brenden never falters. He shows no exhaustion, no hint of being bored, no suggestion that Papa’s badgering bothers him in the slightest. He even makes Davit laugh a few times which warms me to him.
Mother’s barely a body, picking at her plate, but I didn’t expect anything else, and as the meal wears on I start to feel something it takes a few minutes to identify.
I’m happy. And I’m content.
I expected bringing Brenden around my family would be nothing but stressful. Instead, he’s navigating the experience with grace and is turning what’s usually a quiet, tense meal into something not so terrible.
“Dessert time,” Annie announces happily, clapping her hands together as the house staff clears our plates. “But first, a post-dinner drink. Shall we retire to the study?”
Nobody argues with a drink. As the group meanders out, I take Brenden’s hand and lead him down a side hall. He follows without complaint, and I turn on him once we’re alone in a quiet, empty sitting room.
“Are you about to ask me about camera blind spots and motion sensor sweeps? Because I swear—“
I smash my lips to his, kissing me hurriedly, yanking him close. He grunts in surprise but doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back.
“What’s this about?” he asks.
“Don’t talk.” I fumble at his belt. “I’m going to get on my knees and suck you until you come.”
His eyes flare with excitement. “Nobody’s going to come looking?”
“You’ll be fast.”
“Tallie.”
I don’t let him argue. I drop down, tugging his cock free.
He’s only a third hard, but that changes as I lick him, eagerly slurping his tip.
I like feeling him stiffen. I like the way his eyes dart over my head toward the exit.
I know this is silly and childish and risky, but I like breaking rules with him.
I like doing things I’d never in a million years do, especially if they make him happy.
He groans when I take him deep. I’m going fast and he likes it.
No time to fuck around. No teasing. I suck hard, licking and stroking with both hands.
Brenden’s got a dick that needs all my attention.
He grips my hair and whispers my name, and I love the way his tone sounds like he lost himself.
I’m in control now, and I let him slip into my throat, gagging, sucking faster and whimpering.
His come is warm and salty on the back of my tongue.
His hands tremble as he fills my mouth. As expected, it doesn’t take long.
He grunts, sighing as he leans back against the wall and studies me, while I happily lick him clean.
“You’ll pay me back later tonight.” I suck the ends of my fingers. “I fully expect a good performance.”
“Yes, baby.” He pulls me to my feet and kisses me. “Whatever you want.”
“Good.” I grin, leaning into him, and we stay like that for a long few moments in the hushed dimness of an empty room.
I’m greedy and I know it. I’m asking for too much. I want him, and I let myself take him, but it’s implied in the foundation of our relationship that I can’t ever keep him.
“There’s another meeting at the Sarkissian mansion in three weeks,” he says, nosing through my hair.
A bright pulse shimmers in my stomach. “Are we invited?”
“You know we are. We’re going to do it then.”
“Brenden—“
“I know it’s soon, but the longer we wait the more likely it is something will go wrong. We do it then.”
I breathe in his smell, and I hate the disappointment that fills me toes to crown. I should be excited, but I’m not. I should be eager to get this done with. It’s the start of my real life.
Instead, it feels like the end of one.
“Are you with me?” he asks, tilting my chin up.
“I am.”
“Are you sure?”
“I promise.”
“Good. We can do this.”
I don’t know if he’s right about that.