Chapter 24
Dimitri didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the distance between them and pulled Giselle into his arms, wrapping her up in his warmth, in his strength.
For a long moment, she remained stiff, her breath uneven, her body caught between resistance and the need for comfort. But then, slowly, carefully, she moved, tilting her head up to look at him, her eyes searching his.
“Wait…! I know… what?”
His grip on her tightened briefly before he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, breathing her in. Then he guided her over to the sofa. They sat, their knees nearly touching, the tension between them thick and heavy.
“You know your brother and Elliot are working together.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending at first. But then the weight of his words settled over her, crushing and suffocating. She jerked back, shaking her head.
“You knew?” she whispered, her voice trembling with something between betrayal and disbelief. “All this time, you knew?”
“No.” His response was immediate, firm, as he shook his head for emphasis. “I suspected. But I wasn’t sure.”
Giselle swallowed hard, struggling to breathe past the tightness in her chest.
“As soon as you warned me about the thefts, I had you and Tommy start looking into it. Something about the way Elliot approached you last month made me put him on my list of suspects. But we didn’t suspect Craig until later.”
She absorbed that silently. Dimitri watched as the emotions flickered across her face—the hurt, the sadness, the betrayal. But then, something else surfaced. A flicker of something fragile and desperate. Hope.
Her throat bobbed as she forced out the words. “So, you don’t hate me?”
“Hate you?” His brows furrowed in genuine confusion. He cupped her jaw, tilting her face toward him, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Why would I hate you, mia cara?”
“Because my family…” Her voice cracked, and she blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back the weight of all the years, all the burdens she’d carried for so long. “They’re all addicts! And their addictions are costing you money!”
Dimitri exhaled slowly, his expression softening. “Your family’s addictions cost you money, Giselle. Every month, you pay off their debts. But you don’t hate them.”
She let out a sharp breath, tensing all over again. Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “Actually…” She hesitated, her voice almost too quiet. “I think I do.”
He arched a brow, waiting.
She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. “I do hate them, Dimitri. They are nothing more than leeches. My father has a job, but his only goal in life is to make sure he has a steady supply of beer. Even this morning when I went over there—to tell them I wouldn’t give them any more money—he was already drunk. ”
Her voice wavered, and when she opened her eyes again, they were glassy, filled with a pain so raw it made something in Dimitri’s chest tighten.
Giselle had spent her entire life carrying her family members. And now, for the first time, she was beginning to see the weight for what it was.
He reached for her hands again, gently prying them open and threading his fingers through hers. “Then let them go.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t fight him.
For once, she just let herself feel.
"I'm so sorry, mi amore," Dimitri whispered, pulling her onto his lap.
Relief settled in his chest when she didn’t resist, curling into him like she had last night. The way her nose pressed against his neck, as if seeking warmth or maybe validation made him want to move mountains for her. The thought made something deep inside him ache.
She was always searching, wasn’t she? Even in the way she leaned into him, her body molded against his as if it was the only place she felt safe.
He wished he could take that longing away, wished he could rewrite the past that had left her feeling so starved for love that she mistook obligation for affection.
"Why are you so good to me?" she murmured.
He chuckled, his arms tightening around her, as if he could shield her from the world. "Because you need someone to take care of you. And it makes me feel good when you let me."
"I can take care of myself," she grumbled, but even as she said it, she snuggled deeper into his embrace.
He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. "You absolutely can, mi amore," he murmured, rubbing his hand over her back in slow, soothing strokes. "You’re very capable. But… I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life.
Making dinner for you, protecting you, comforting you when you're down—it helps me balance out the bad stuff. "
She snorted softly. "You’re a good person, Dimitri. I’ve heard the stories about how you help people. You're incredibly generous with your time and money."
"I have a lot of money to be generous with," he countered. "You, on the other hand, shouldn’t be as generous. Your parents…"
He let the words trail off, but the silence was heavy with unspoken truths.
Giselle swallowed hard. "They don’t deserve my generosity," she admitted quietly. "They only act like they love me when I’m giving them something.” She sighed, the soft sobs abating now.
“Their affection for me is conditional and I won’t do it anymore.
” There was a long silence, then she continued, “I told them that this morning. That’s why I went over there.
I told my mother I wouldn’t pay off her credit cards this month or in the future. "
Dimitri shifted, reaching for her phone he’d just tossed. He turned the screen toward her. "Is that why you have twenty text messages and five unanswered calls from her?"
She lifted her head. "I do?"
"Yeah." He brushed a wisp of hair off her face, his touch gentle but grounding. "I guess she's not taking it well."
A bitter laugh escaped her. "No, I’m sure she’s furious. But she’ll get over it. Or she won’t. Either way, I can’t keep throwing money at her and hoping it’ll change something."
"And your father?"
She let out a slow, weary sigh, laying her head back against his shoulder. "He’ll be furious next month when he’s kicked out of the pub and can’t get any more beer at the grocery store. I won’t pay his bills anymore either." Her voice wavered. "He’s an alcoholic and needs help."
Dimitri didn’t say anything, just traced soothing circles on her back.
"I told him I’d pay for a stint at a rehab center if he promised to stop drinking, but he yelled at me.
Told me he wasn’t a drunk – his words, not mine.
" Her fingers curled into the fabric of Dimitri’s shirt.
"He looked me right in the eye and swore he wasn’t a drunk.
Like he hasn't been drinking since I was a kid.
Like I don't remember all the nights he disappeared or the times I had to pick him up off the floor. Like he didn’t have a beer in his hand even in that moment.
" Her voice cracked, just a little. "I suppose he needs time to realize how much he’s dependent on alcohol. "
"Everyone needs to come to the realization of their addictions in their own time," Dimitri agreed softly.
She turned in his lap, her dark eyes searching his. "Is that what you’ve done? Helped me see that I’m addicted to helping my family?"
"I don’t think it’s an addiction, honey," he murmured, cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her jaw.
"I think you’re just so desperate for their attention and validation that you pay them off.
And their emotional blackmail works, because when someone feels invisible, even a demand for money can feel like love. "
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Because it was true.
Her parents had never loved her—not in the way parents were supposed to love their children. Love should’ve been warm, unwavering. It should’ve been given freely, not bartered like a debt that needed to be repaid.
But that wasn’t what she’d grown up with.
Her mother’s affection was conditional. Diane’s “love” came in smiles and soft words when she needed something, and in cold, cutting remarks when she didn’t get her way.
Love was a currency, and Giselle had spent her entire life trying to buy it, throwing money into a bottomless pit that would never be full.
Her father’s love was even worse. It had always been distant, absent, drowned in alcohol and regret.
She could count on one hand the times he’d hugged her as a child.
He didn’t remember birthdays, didn’t call unless he needed something.
And when she was little, she used to try to fix it—clean up his messes, take care of things so maybe, just maybe, he’d see her.
But he never did.
And he never would.
Her throat tightened. "I don’t know how to stop wanting them to love me."
Dimitri’s arms tightened around her, his embrace strong and steady. "Then let me love you enough for the both of them."
A shuddering breath escaped her as she buried her face against his neck, her hands fisting into his shirt. For the first time in a long time, she let herself believe it was possible.
She was quiet for a moment, then leaned back, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. “This is as much about my own recovery as it is theirs.”
He grunted, his chin resting on the top of her head. “They have addictions. You just need to accept that your family will never give you the love you deserve.” He tightened his hold around her. “And you should turn to me instead.”
She tilted her head back, her lips curling into the first real smile of her day. “You’re volunteering to fill the void?”
“Absolutely,” he murmured, a slow knowing smile spreading across his face as he shifted, tilting her back until she lay beneath him.
Giselle giggled, but she didn’t resist—wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “What if my need for affection is too much?”
He nipped at her jaw, his voice a low, teasing growl. “I’m more than up for the challenge.”
But just as quickly, her expression turned serious, the lightness in her eyes dimming. “Dimitri… are you sure you want a future with me?” she whispered. “You’ve seen all the ugly parts of my life.”
His gaze softened. “We all have ugly parts, Giselle.” He ran a hand over her side, grounding her. “But you’ll have to accept the darker side of my world, too.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Your dark side means the bad guys don’t get away with hurting the good ones.”
He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “You’re seeing my world through rose-tinted glasses.”
Her hands came up to cradle his face, her thumbs caressing his cheekbones.
“No, I see you.” Her voice was steady, sure.
“Dimitri, you have a good heart. You don’t hurt innocent people.
You use the darkness to protect those who can’t protect themselves.
That’s not a bad man—that’s a man who understands power and how to wield it. ”
His throat worked, his hands flexing against her waist. “But I…”
Whatever protest he had died on his lips. Because she kissed him. Deeply, tenderly.
And Dimitri, for all his strength, had no intention of stopping her.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
There, he made love to her until they were gasping for air.
And afterwards, he held her in his arms, made love to her again, then cooked dinner for them.
She fell asleep in his arms while Dimitri made plans, listening to her steady breathing as Giselle slept.