Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dorian
Shaking my head with a sigh, I head to the kitchen so I can make my call in private.
While it’s true that Sergei will want me to have some semblance of a game plan on how to address the issue I’m about to bring to him, I think he might be a touch more forgiving than Seamus might assume, simply because my current problem revolves around Mira.
Sergei’s obsession with his wife is legendary; he kidnapped her when he was incarcerated in the States several years ago and brought her to Russia with him, then spent the next months making her fall in love with him.
If anyone can understand how frazzled I’d be over Mira’s abusive stepfather trying to get her back under his control, it’s Sergei. He’d lay waste to entire countries to keep his wife safe or make her happy.
I give Sergei a call while putting away the cupcakes in the kitchen.
He doesn’t pick up, which makes my heart drop to my stomach, but he calls back a minute later.
Sergei made it clear from day one that my legion is his personal pet project; he’ll delegate many things when it comes to business, but for whatever reason, he wants to maintain a close relationship with me, Connor, and Seamus.
“Dorian.” The voice that greets me is markedly unexpected, because it’s a female voice. I imagine only one person in the world has the ability to pick up Sergei’s phone in lieu of him, and that would be his wife, Kira.
“Mrs. Novikov,” I greet, trying to mask my surprise. “I’m sorry to disturb you—”
“No disturbance at all.” Her voice is pleasant, almost like a melody, but something about it is off-putting. There’s an eerie flatness to her words that reminds me very much of Sergei. “And, please, dispense with the Mrs. Novikov nonsense. I only took Sergei’s surname because he won a bet.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask precisely what bet could have possibly culminated in the woman who tamed Sergei doing anything she didn’t want to do, but I manage to refrain. I don’t know Kira, so I don’t have the liberties to ask any errant questions.
“My apologies,” I say, fighting to keep my tone even. “If Sergei’s otherwise occupied, I’ll call back at a better time—”
“He’s in the shower,” Kira says mildly. “The water’s just shut off, so he’ll be out soon.
Tell me, what is it the two of you have been discussing during your late-night chats?
Or the early morning ones…or any of the ones in between.
I often find him stepping aside to take a call from you or one of your…
legion members. I always mean to ask him directly, but distractions persistently arise. ”
I bite my bottom lip, unsure of what to do or say.
If Sergei hasn’t told Kira anything about my legion, I assume that’s because he doesn’t want her to know.
While that doesn’t sound like Sergei—from my understanding, he tells his wife everything—I won’t risk getting cut off by saying something to her that I shouldn’t.
“I hope you won’t have me killed for saying this, but I can’t disclose anything without Sergei’s permission.”
A long, thick silence stretches between us. I’m almost tempted to reach for the knife block to cut through it. I’m half-afraid that my words have somehow earned me a direct ticket to the afterlife, but then, Kira speaks.
“Very good. Sergei will be pleased with your loyalty.” Kira laughs, sounding vaguely amused.
My building anxiety rushes out of me in a stream, and I suppress an audible breath of relief.
“You really don’t think I know everything that goes on with my husband’s dealings?
I help orchestrate half of them.” She sighs.
“You’ve been having trouble with a woman recently, yes? Miranda?”
I nearly flinch at hearing Mira’s full name. I’ve only ever known her by Mira, and the name suits her. “Yes,” I say slowly. “She prefers to go by Mira.” I’m not sure why I add the last bit, but I can’t help myself.
“Ah,” Kira says. “A bit similar to my own name, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Tell me, what are your troubles in paradise?”
This time, I’m the one to initiate the silence, because I’m not sure how to respond or if I want to have a discussion about this.
I called Sergei to inform him of the potential issues that might arise because Clyde is starting to get smart, not to discuss my love life with a woman who’s rumored to be a psychopath.
“I won’t force you to tell me,” Kira says after several moments. “But I was once an incredibly well-respected psychologist in the States. I am capable of giving good advice.”
“Weren’t you a criminal psychologist?”
“The line between loving someone and killing them is surprisingly thin, believe it or not. Both are often rooted in passion. Besides, I have a superior understanding of the human mind and emotions. However, if you don’t care for what I have to say, I won’t waste my time on you.”
“No,” I say, a tad too quickly. I clear my throat. “Um, perhaps I’d benefit from hearing such a well-respected woman’s perspective.”
“Good save,” Kira says. “Give me the premise of the situation in two sentences.”
I take a moment to think my words over carefully. “I have a growing attachment to Mira, and I believe she’s growing fond of me as well. However, she sees me as a criminal, and her experience with criminal men in her life has been life-threatening.”
“I see,” Kira says. “Well, the solution is simple.”
I bite back a laugh. “Would you care to impart your knowledge onto me?”
“Since you asked so kindly, yes,” she agrees.
“Be consistent. In your moods, in your actions, in your reactions. If Mira’s been traumatized at the hands of a criminal man, I believe it’s safe to say she’s used to instability.
Offer her stability, stick with it for the long haul, and you should be fine.
Do with that advice what you will. Now, I believe I’ll return Sergei’s phone to him so the two of you can chat. ”
I stiffen. “Return—I thought you said he was in the shower?”
“I lied,” she responds simply. “He will be needing to go to the shower soon since he should just be finishing up with his favorite toy in the basement.”
I don’t have the guts to ask exactly what she means by that. I have an inkling that by toy she might actually mean captive.
I hear the faint echo of footsteps, and a few moments later, the phone changes hands.
“Dorian?” Sergei says, sounding a tad perplexed. “Ah, Kira got a hold of you, did she? My condolences.” Kira says something in the background; Sergei chuckles and gives a muffled response. “It’s late for the both of us. What is it?”
“Mira’s stepfather,” I say, still reeling from the advice I got from Kira. She’s right, consistency is laughably simple, and it’s precisely what I’d wager Mira requires to settle. “Clyde Brenner. He’s asking her to arrange a meeting between your boss and his.”
“And his boss would be…?” Sergei questions calmly.
According to the report Connor compiled, “Wagner. Carver Wagner.”
“I’ve never even heard of him,” Sergei says, sounding mildly bemused. “What does he run?”
“He has a county in Pennsylvania locked down with his connection to the sheriff. Carver runs drugs, taxes people who work or live on what he considers to be his territory, and has a few strip clubs. He’s small-time, completely inconsequential.”
“Hmm,” Sergei hums thoughtfully. “And how did this Mr. Wagner come to know about you or me?”
My blood thrums at the implication behind his words. He’s hinting that Mira might’ve had something to do with Clyde poking around, that she might’ve passed on information, which is fucking ludicrous.
I’ve seen the scars on her body. I’ve held her after she woke up from a nightmare.
I saw her earlier tonight, when she was so dissociated from the world it genuinely frightened me.
The placid, empty look in her eyes is something that’s going to haunt me for some time to come.
I commit myself to ensuring that, if I ever catch her in that state, I’ll pull her out of it.
We’ll deal with her problems together—they’ll be our problems.
“I say this with the utmost respect for who you are and all you’re doing for me,” I start carefully, “but don’t ever fucking question Mira’s loyalties. They may not completely be mine, yet, but they sure as shit don’t lie with the man who nearly killed her on several occasions.”
A low chuckle escapes Sergei. “Point taken. You’re growing into a man, Dorian.”
I feel my eyebrows inch up. “I wasn’t aware I was a boy beforehand.”
“I was a boy well into my thirties, until I met Kira. I might’ve had money, power, and influence before her, but she made me into a man. I look forward to watching the same transformation take hold in you. Onto the little problem; I assume it’s in your plans to exterminate Clyde?”
“It’s now pretty high up on my to-do list,” I affirm. “If Carver makes himself into a nuisance, I’ll take care of him, as well.”
“Good,” Sergei says. “Get your legion on it. I want all of you to take care of this as a team. If you want them to accept the shifts in your life, they need to continue being part of your dealings. Connor and Seamus have to want to protect your girl just like you do, though perhaps not with the same vigor.”
“Connor isn’t protective over anyone,” I say. “I’m working on Seamus.”
“Yes, Connor’s always been a bit of a lone wolf. He’s fit in with the two of you, though, so there’s hope for him yet. Put together a plan on what you’ll be doing for your woman and keep me apprised. How is your other mission going?”
“The Serpents in the city have gone underground or moved away. There are a few locations we’ll be checking out in the next weeks. I hope to be done with their bullshit by the end of the year, though the timeline might be extended.”
“Fine.” Sergei pauses. “Go take care of your woman. And, if Kira gave you advice, follow it to the letter. That’s an order.”
“Got it. I’ll keep you updated.” Sergei hangs up without saying goodbye; I make my way directly back to my room.
The bathroom door is still closed and faint tendrils of steam curl out from beneath it, but there’s no sound of running water.
Only a minute passes before Mira makes her appearance, and my heart nearly stops when I see that she’s wearing my sweater.
It’s old, a team sweater back from my high school football days, and it falls nearly to her knees. She looks fucking ethereal in it.
She stares at me; I stare at her. Several long moments of silence stretch out. If I had my way, this is the moment I’d sweep her into my arms and fuck her into next year, but she’s had a long and very trying night. Now isn’t the time for sex.
“I, uh, hope it’s okay that I took your sweater,” she murmurs, sounding adorably bashful. “I liked the way it smelled.”
I guess I’ll be dousing all of my clothes with the cologne I wear, then. If she wears nothing but my clothes for the rest of our lives, I’d die a happy man.
“More than okay,” I say, stepping forward and tentatively taking her hand in mine. She’s flighty, and I don’t want to spook her. “I like it very much. I might instate a new rule that the only clothes you’re allowed to wear to bed are my clothes.”
A reluctant smile spreads on her lips, and she allows me to pull her into my arms. I hold her close, resting my chin on her head, breathing in the fact that she’s here and she’s mine, whether or not she’s ready to admit that part yet. Slowly, her arms wrap around my waist, and my heart soars.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” she mutters into my chest. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” I say evenly. Consistency is key. “I’m not mad at you; I get that it’s been a whirlwind of a night. But, please, stop putting us on opposite sides. That’s not where we’re supposed to be. We’re a team.”
“I don’t know if we’re a team, but I don’t think we’re enemies anymore,” she says. Her fingers idly pluck at the fabric of my shirt.
“We were never enemies,” I say, allowing a note of teasing in my voice. “If we were, I wouldn’t be nearly as nice to you.”
“Nice to me,” she repeats drolly. “Are you referring to that time you literally chased me down in the woods at night? Or when you proceeded to hold me captive here? Or—”
“Hush,” I say, not masking my exasperation.
“It’s all working out, isn’t it?” Without waiting for her to respond, I tug her over to the bed and settle her under the comforter.
It’s the work of a few seconds to strip down, throw on a pair of sweats, and climb in behind her.
I pull her right into my chest; again, she comes willingly, and this time, something frighteningly possessive unfurls deep within me.
A ravening, ravaging beast that screams to claim his mate and lock her down for eternity.
“Are you okay now?” I murmur into her hair, stroking my hands over her belly.
I wonder what it’d be like if and when it swells with our child.
Not if, I decide. When. I’ve only ever thought about kids in passing, and the thoughts were fleeting.
The turns my life took as soon as I hit college essentially removed even the idea of children from the equation; I couldn’t imagine bringing them into my world.
While I share a close comradery and bond with Connor and Seamus, the activities we partake in aren’t the safest. Having a kid always seemed cruel.
But now… now I want to find a way. It’d amaze me if Mira didn’t want children; she has a naturally maternal presence. I want to have those children with her; I want to watch our baby grow inside her. I want to raise the kid with her.
I hold Mira until I’m sure she’s asleep, then I gently slip my fingers beneath the hem of her sweater and circle my fingertips over the soft skin of her navel. One day, I promise myself. One day I’ll put a baby there.