Chapter 59 Sienna
SIENNA
I woke to the scent of coffee and something sweet hanging in the air. I stretched and ran my hand down the bedding.
This didn’t feel like my…
The memories from last night came flooding back, and I sat up with a jolt.
My heart raced as I scanned the unfamiliar bedroom. The shades were drawn, but enough light filtered in so I could see my surroundings. Beige walls, beige carpet, a plain dresser, and a wolf with his nose pressed to my stomach.
The safe house. We were at the safe house.
I flopped back down on the bed, breathing steadily until my heart rate returned to normal. Vovchyk’s cold nose nudged my hand, demanding pets, and I complied.
“Good morning.” I furrowed my brow. “Or afternoon?” We’d arrived at around five in the morning, so who knew what time it was now. “Thanks for watching over Baby Girl. And for protecting me at the shipping yard.”
Vovchyk made a happy grumbling sound as I hit just the right spot behind his ear. My lips tipped up in a smile.
“I guess I should get up and face reality.” The sharp ache in my heart almost took my breath away. I hated waking up alone, but right now, I was grateful for it. I needed to sort through my tangle of emotions before I faced Dimitri.
“Everything’s such a mess, isn’t it?” I whispered to Vovchyk. “Would you judge me if I give him a second chance? Because I think I might want to, but I’m scared of being disappointed again. I promised I’d never be with a Made Man. They always choose the Mafia first.”
Except…that wasn’t true for Matteo or Romeo. They put Sofiya, Clementine, and Juliet first.
And yesterday, Dimitri had left Paris, sacrificed what he thought was his opportunity for revenge, to fly back to me.
He had chosen me.
The gash in my heart, which had been there since age eleven when I lost my parents and Matteo shifted his priorities away from me and to the Family, started to stitch together.
I slowly pushed to a seated position. I stayed there, blanket wrapped around me like a cape, until I worked up the energy to get out of bed.
Outside the window, a field backed up to the woods.
It was a cloudy day, but a few rays of sunlight cut through drizzling rain and reflected off colorful wildflowers.
A draft made me shiver. The spring air was still brisk, so I opened the dresser and found a sweatshirt that was large enough to fit around my enormous bump before following the scent of coffee out of the bedroom.
I paused in the kitchen doorway. Dimitri stood at the stove, his back to me.
He wore a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips and nothing else, giving me the opportunity to ogle him unnoticed.
My eyes raked down his broad shoulders, muscular back, and ass.
Something low pulsed in my core, and I squeezed my thighs together.
The stress of the past few months had dried up my desire to be sexual in any way…
or maybe it hadn’t been the stress at all.
Maybe it was just his absence, because here I was, hours removed from being shot at and having to flee for my life, and the sight of my shirtless husband was enough to make me want to jump him.
I mean, not that I would.
Nope. Definitely not.
Dimi glanced over his shoulder when I entered the kitchen, gifting me with a pure, unguarded smile. “Good morning, malyshka.”
“Dobroye utro,” I responded, stopping just a foot away from him.
“You’re speaking Russian so well.”
“Spasibo. Everyone’s been great at helping me practice.”
He wrapped a curl of my hair around his finger. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” He abruptly dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Coffee’s ready, and I’m almost done with the pancakes.”
The air between us was stilted by weeks and weeks of unspoken words.
“I didn’t know you cooked.”
He shrugged, but I caught a pink tinge to his cheeks as he handed me a cup of coffee. I leaned against the cabinets and took a sip. It was perfect.
“So…” he said, eyes fixed on the stove as he flipped another pancake. “You’re a hacker.”
I watched him closely. What was he thinking? “Yeah.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re one of the best hackers in the world.”
I hummed, but a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “So they say.”
He shook his head and turned towards me, revealing the laughter in his eyes. “I can’t believe I fucking hired you twice. How have you kept your identity a secret all this time? Especially when you work for your brother?”
“I don’t work for my brother.” The assumption made that old wound in my chest ache. “He refuses to involve me in Mafia business, so I take freelance jobs. That’s why I was in Paris.”
Dimi scowled. “You freelance by taking jobs off one of the world’s most dangerous dark web forums? How the fuck is he okay with that?”
I tilted my head to the side and stared, seeing the exact moment it clicked. He swore. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
“Nope. I mean, he knows I studied hacking, but he doesn’t know how good I am. Sometimes I work with his hacker, Franco, who probably knows about me. He’s not really one for drama, though, so he won’t tell. Leona knows and so does Lyosha.”
“What?” His mouth fell open. “My hacker knows your identity and didn’t tell me?”
I shrugged. “I had to tell him so he would stop panicking about the whole bank account prank.”
Dimi rested his elbows on the counter with a groan, his head in his hands. “That was you?”
“Oh, right.” My cheeks heated, and I ducked my nose into my mug. “That was me. But it’s really your fault if you think about it. You told everyone to pretend they didn’t speak English, so I figured out a funny way to get back at you.”
He scrubbed his hand down his face. “My behavior has been inexcusable, malyshka. No arguments there. But how the fuck did you think that would be funny?”
The tension in my chest eased. He wasn’t angry or yelling.
His exasperated expression was similar to the one Polina gave me when I ate cake for breakfast. “Maybe I have a better sense of humor than you do. Besides, now you know I can take all your money anytime I want. You better keep on my good side.”
He grumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” I asked, batting my eyelashes. Getting to tease my husband settled the clawing anxiousness in my chest.
“Pancakes are ready. Go sit down,” he said with a scowl.
I grinned as I passed him, making sure to brush my body against his on the way to the small kitchen table.
He put a plate of perfectly golden-brown pancakes in front of me. I cocked my head when I saw his plate contained a mixture of over and undercooked pancakes in irregular shapes.
“Never made pancakes before,” he muttered when he caught me looking. “Eat.”
Warmth flooded my body when I realized he’d given me the best pancakes of the batch and taken the practice ones for himself.
I added lots of butter and maple syrup before I dug in. “These are really good.”
He grunted but couldn’t fully hide his smile.
We quietly ate our breakfast and sipped our coffee, but the silence didn’t feel as stilted.
“What job were you doing in Paris?” he asked.
“Oh. I was helping a group of people, um, obtain a necklace.”
He froze, his fork halfway to his lips. “You are fucking kidding me. You stole Claude’s necklace?”
“Wait, you know Claude?”
“The most boring man alive? Yes, I do, because I’m the one who sold him the necklace.”
“Wait…” My mind whirred as the puzzle pieces fell into place. I burst out laughing. “Oh my god. So it wasn’t a coincidence that we were both in Paris.”
Dimi sat back in his chair. “It’s not funny,” he said, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re the reason I had to have an in-person meeting with Claude the morning after the necklace was stolen.” His exasperated huff only made me laugh harder.
I elbowed his side. “Come on. This is pretty fucking funny. But, um, I guess sorry for stealing the necklace?”
A deep chuckle vibrated through his chest, completely transforming his face. I stared at him with awe, reaching up to trace his dimple.
“I have never heard a more insincere apology in my life. But Claude probably deserved it.”
“He totally did.” I stroked my thumb across his cheek. It was prickly with stubble. “I was supposed to fly back to New York right after the job, but I may have lied about it not being done yet so I could stay in Paris a few more days.” I bit my lip. “I wanted to have an adventure.”
His fingers tentatively ghosted up my arm, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch me.
“Do you wish I hadn’t?” I whispered.
“Hadn’t what?”
“Stayed in Paris.”
His eyes softened as he realized what I was really asking. His thumb caressed my lip. “How could I regret the best weekend of my life? The one that gave me the greatest gifts in the world? Never.”
For a second, I thought he would lean forward and kiss me. He got up and cleared my plate instead.
“Have you gotten any updates on the Souleater’s location?” I asked.
He shook his head, jaw tight. “Aleksei is searching for him.”
“What happens now? Are we staying here? What about everyone at the house? Are they safe?”
He rinsed off our dishes. “We will stay here for now, and everyone at the house is on high alert.” He hesitated, eyes fixed on the wall as he spoke. “Last night, as I neared Chicago, I contacted Rossi and Finnegan to ask for backup.”
My eyebrows shot up. Dimi might have been in an alliance with my brother and Ronan, but he was also a deeply untrusting person. I never would have expected this of him…and yet, he’d set all of that aside to ensure everyone he cared for stayed safe.
I pushed up from the uncomfortable kitchen chair and joined him at the sink. “I’m surprised. Group projects don’t seem to be your thing.”
“Apparently they are when it matters. When I have people to protect.” He dried his hands and closed the gap between us.
“How does the Souleater fit into all of this? Why did you hire me? Why is he in Chicago?”
He let out a slow breath. “Did you get enough to eat?”
I nodded.
“Let’s move to the living room so you’re more comfortable while we talk.”
He led me to the couch. We sat beside each other and he tucked my hand in his. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I had been starved for touch for so long I wanted more, but I held myself back. We were relearning how to be with each other, how to trust…or perhaps we were learning it for the first time.
“It all started when Rustik met Mama.”
I knew from Sofiya that her mom, Alena, was Rustik’s second wife. He had remarried after Dimi’s mom died.
“Mama was…she was the best person I knew and way too good for this world.” A long, shuddering breath rumbled through his chest. “My grandfather, Artem Ivanov, was Pakhan over the Moscow Bratva many years ago. Mama was a maid in his house, and she caught Rustik’s eye.
My father became obsessed with her, and she soon fell pregnant. She was barely eighteen.”
I entwined our fingers, trying to send him my strength.
“When Artem found out, he threw her out of the house. But my father’s obsession ran too deep to let her go. Two days later, Artem was dead, Rustik became Pakhan, and Mama moved back in—this time to his bedroom.”
“Rustik killed his father?”
“He always denied it—said the Pakhan died of a heart attack. No one believed him.”
I turned our joined hands over so I could trace my free fingers over the veins on the back of his hand. “From everything I’ve heard about Rustik, it’s hard to believe that he loved someone enough to kill for them.”
Dimitri stiffened, his expression blank.
“Obsession is not love,” he spat. “It might feel like it at first, especially for someone like Mama. She grew up with nothing and thought she’d finally found the family and life she’d craved.
But to Rustik, she was an object, not a person.
A thing for him to possess, control, and…
” His voice hitched, and he trailed off.
“You don’t have to keep going,” I murmured.
He ducked his head and buried his face in my hair. “I’m done staying away from you. I haven’t let anyone in since I was a child. Sofiya and Mila know parts of my story, but I had to hide so much, even from them. I don’t want to hide from you.”
“I want to see you,” I whispered back. His ice blue eyes were filled with warmth as I cradled his face, my thumb running a slow line across his lips.
Like magnets, our bodies drew closer, our lips almost brushing. I kept my hand on his jaw as he continued his story.
“My father abused Mama for their entire relationship. She hid it from me for years.” His eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around me, my round belly pressing into the hard planes of his stomach.
“She couldn’t protect me forever. Once I started school, I slowly realized how different my life was from the other kids’.
As the years went on, Rustik’s violence escalated and she could no longer hide the bruises. I didn’t know what to do.”
His eyes had the same distant look he got when he woke up from nightmares, the look that told me he wasn’t really here with me.
I pressed my forehead to his and tangled my fingers in his hair. “It’s okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me.”
“Sometimes it feels like I won’t ever leave that room.”
“What room?”
He swallowed hard. “When I was ten, he pulled me into the office and said if I ever hoped to be Pakhan, I needed to toughen up. He had a plan to turn me into a real man. He wouldn’t tell me where we were going or what we were doing, but there was something even more twisted about him than usual that night, a sickness I could see in his eyes. It scared the shit out of me.”
I didn’t want to hear more. Wasn’t sure if I could bear it.
While I didn’t know exactly what had happened, I knew this part of my husband’s story did not have a happy ending.
I fought the part of me that wanted to tell him to stop.
I was used to running away from painful things, but Dimi was being brave, so I would be, too.
“Where did he take you?” I asked.
“A warehouse.”