Chapter 23—Tommy
I continue to read over the email Bobby sent about beginning the process of moving me into Vinny’s old properties when she enters the kitchen. I’ve read it six times and still have zero clue what it says. For the last two hours, I haven’t focused on a damn thing.
We slept in, last night’s adrenaline hitting us both. For her, it sent her crashing hard. And when she stirred from distress in her dreams, I was only too happy to offer my services.
It had me staying up for hours after we went to bed.
Bed.
I put her in mine. It felt right. I wasn’t going to question it. I needed eyes on her last night. I needed to know she was okay. Having her in my bed was the right move. I wouldn’t have been able to comfort her if she were in the guest room.
Okay, yes, I would. If she wanted to be in her guest room, I would have let her. I just would have joined her in there too. But I prefer, like with most things in life, not to ask but to do. And taking her to my room was the easiest decision.
I knew the second she woke up fifteen minutes ago. I kept the door ajar when I left it a few hours before. I wanted to be there if she needed me, but I also knew that I needed to give her space to wake up on her own and realize where she was.
I expected her to gasp. But there was nothing. Instead, it was just the creak of the bed frame from her sitting up.
I wonder if she knew where she was after I moved her last night. Or maybe she just knew she would end up in my bed eventually. Or it could have been when I held her most of the night.
Once she fell asleep, I pulled her in close, trying to keep the nightmares from getting to her.
First it was out of a need to let her know she was safe as I gave her my warmth and strength with my arms wrapped around her as I whispered in her ear that she was okay.
And then it was for me. To feel her warmth sinking into me.
When I awoke, still wrapped around her like a koala to a tree, I pulled myself free and left the bed.
I needed time to think and order food. Lots of food.
The joy on her face from me cooking a simple meal last night brought me pure satisfaction.
I never knew I needed this. I always thought I would find a woman who was equal to me.
And Payton is. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy taking care of her.
Finding a strange kind of pleasure in seeing her taken care of.
Taking care of her does something for me too.
Seeing her smile at what I provide seems to heal a part of me I thought was broken forever because of what happened in Russia.
“Morning.” Her small smile brightens the entire room as she moves to the kitchen table.
Her hair’s in a loose side braid that seems to show that the innocence I thought was lost last night is still there.
The braid and her pink cheeks have me focused on her more than I should.
She barely makes eye contact with me as she sits down and reaches for the stuffed egg croissant sandwich I had delivered along with the grocery order.
I figured she still needs some energy in her, and protein will help with that.
I wait until she’s halfway through her breakfast, which is more brunch than breakfast at this hour, before I tell her what’s happening.
“You won’t be going into work for the weekend.”
She stills mid-bite as she looks up at me.
“But it’s Friday.”
I shrug. “Consider it a long weekend, then.”
She puts the food down and folds her hands in her lap as she looks down. I wait, knowing she’ll speak when she finds her courage. And true to form, she does. And I’m proud that she looks up at me for half of what she says before looking back down again.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I say firmly so there’s no doubt.
“Then why?”
Now I have to choose my words carefully.
“You were attacked. At my club. A place that should have been safe for anyone, especially those who work for me. Giving you time away is the very least I can do. Plus, I think you need more time to rest fully before you start at it again.”
I watch her take in my words, glancing at me from the side to see I’m not hiding anything in my face. That my words aren’t meant to deceive but to let her know that I hold myself responsible for what happened to her. And if she’s willing, I want to make it up to her in a way I can.
Time off won’t help her clear her debt, but it’s paid time off. Not that she’ll ask. She’ll just assume she has to put in more time. What she doesn’t know is that I’m contemplating that every attack on her means I’m paying the debt for her.
“So… what do I do, then?”
I smile softly at her. “Whatever you want.”
“Come in,” I call out following the soft knock on my door and look up. Something tight in my chest loosens at seeing her in my space, a sensation that still hasn’t gone away since the first time it happened.
I watch her take hesitant steps into my office, looking it all over quickly, though I doubt she’s noting much of anything. It’s nothing extreme, but I have more personality in here than the rest of the place. Mostly because I’m in here more often than not.
The view on the right side shows the main street and some of the larger buildings in Manhattan, including the one Bobby owns.
Unlike my eldest brother, I prefer lighter tones to the true dark nature of a Mafia lord and picked lighter shades of gray for my desk and chair, pairing it with navy office chairs and a sofa sitting against one wall, facing the TV and bar.
The bookcase houses pictures of my childhood and books that I haven’t actually read but plan to. One day. If I find the time.
This is my space.
Out there? That was the decorator’s space. It was never my own. More like a staging place for guests who occasionally visited.
However, recently I’ve thought about adding something more to it. With Payton in my home, I’m seeing things a bit clearer. And one thing I’ve noticed is how cold the front room is unless she’s in the same space.
I watch her hands. While the rest of her is fascinating to watch, her hands tell the story she tries to hide. No shakes, so her fear is being held at bay, but the way she twists them over each other tells me she’s nervous. Either because of me or what she’s about to ask.
Either way, I don’t give her the easy way out. I just wait for her to figure out which way she wants to go.
I don’t know why I don’t make it easy for her. She’s been through a lot, especially in the last week, and yet I keep pushing her. A part of me enjoys watching her struggle. But a stronger part relishes when she succeeds.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Her words throw me for a loop. Not at all what I expected.
“You don’t know what to do?” I repeat, making sure I heard her right.
She nods, then shrugs violently as her hands pull away from each other and fall to her sides in a small flourish.
“Ever since I was little, all I did was dance. Even when I wasn’t moving, I was studying it, watching it, reading about it.
Then, when….” Her voice flutters as she stalls to collect herself.
“After my parents died, all I knew was to just keep going. Every second was pushed from dance into this.” She gestures to herself, and I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Survival,” she says with a slow exhale.
I nod, understanding instantly.
A moment hangs between us before she continues in a softer voice.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if I’m not working and dance is no longer part of my life. Well, that kind of dance.”
I ease back in my chair and run a finger over my lips as I think over her words.
I never thought about it from her side before.
I can think of a hundred things to do if I had a day off.
Not that I get many. I could take them if I want, but I never find the need.
Before Russia, I did whatever the fuck I wanted and got my shit done.
Granted, my responsibilities were small compared to my other brothers.
After Russia, well, I didn’t want to rest. Proving to myself that I’m alive, not a liability, and able to do shit beyond fucking up is my sole purpose.
I haven’t taken a day off since Vinny gave me my new job.
Before that, after all the doctor visits to make sure I was healed, I kept myself busy with my female fighters.
I have a few across the country, but my favorites live in Michigan.
But if I were given a day off, I don’t think I would travel to watch a fight. Sure, it has its enjoyments, but it’s still considered working.
What would I do with a true day off?
“I have a pool.”
She shakes her head. “Can’t swim.”
Not so surprising based on what she just told me. Ballet was her life, and I bet anything outside that was a no go. Either by her, her parents, or her dance instructors.
“Books?” I gesture to the shelves behind her.
She looks back, eyes roaming, but turns back with a shake of her head.
“Hmmm.” I think on it for a minute before an idea pops into my head. “Come with me.”
I lead the way out of my office and to the elevator, going up a floor. Her eyes widen, and I smirk. I doubt she realized there was more to this than just my place.
When the doors open, I take her past the free weights, treadmill, and elliptical bike, moving to the far side of the open area before the outdoor rooftop access to the room that’s made of glass.
I open the door, and the automated lights illuminate the spacious area. A sparring room for me and whichever brother joins me. Or a trainer. Sometimes even Dante comes over. It varies depending on my mood. But the best part? The mat can be lifted to reveal the pristine floors underneath.
With little work, I uncover half the floor before turning back to her as she watches from the door.
“It’s not much, but feel free to use any of the equipment out there and the space in here for.
…” I scratch the back of my head. A sudden amount of anxiety and unease hit me.
She was used to training in a proper school, not some small space with clean floors.
I look it over and see if there’s a better space for her to go, but this is all I have to spare.
It’s hardly anything compared to what I have for myself.
It’s stupid to assume she’d be okay with it.
I know it’s a bad idea before I can even voice it.
“Um, perhaps some TV.” I gesture for her to exit, already knowing this is a no for her, but she stops me with her hand.
Small fingers catch my wrist as I move to walk by her, and she does shake her head, but for a completely different reason.
“This is perfect. Thank you.”
I just nod for fear that I might scare her with how wide I want to grin at her words.
“It has a sound system by the wall.”
She gives me a small smile that radiates more than anything else in this place as she turns to the wall to pick a song.
When classical music comes on, I finally grin. But I hide it from her as I walk to the elevator to get back to work.
Or what little work I plan to do, knowing full well I have cameras in here and will be staring at her the entire time.
We both missed lunch. Her due to dancing and me because I got pulled onto a conference call to figure out how we can help Milly and the Hounds find their missing person. Not a lot to go on, but we set up another time to call once we get some information from a few contacts Vinny has.
It’s almost past dinnertime for most people, which is not how I would describe either of us.
My phone rings, and I answer it before seeing who it is.
“Yes?”
“Problem at the club.”
I close my eyes at Dante’s words and breathe deeply.
Not what I wanted to hear. I was planning on giving myself a reward tonight.
The kind where I take the night off with Payton and show her how to enjoy her free time.
Not that I was thinking it would go like that, but if it did, I wasn’t about to say no.
Instead, I was planning on Chinese takeout in front of a movie or something.
Just basic shit, but it would keep her close and satisfy one of my instincts that keeps screaming at me lately.
The one that says I need to take care of Payton, and that feeding her and keeping her clothed and warm is something I should focus most of my attention on.
“Right, be there soon.” I hang up and go to the elevator. If Dante says it’s a problem, that means it’s something he can’t deal with on his own, which doesn’t happen often. And I don’t have time to question it if I want to fix it and be back soon.
Taking out my phone, I pull up some of my favorite restaurants and decide that if I can’t be here to watch her eat, then I plan to make sure she has more than enough. I order a wide selection of food and then text the guy I have watching the place to bring it up once it’s here.
After what happened with Carl in my club, I’m not taking anything for granted. I put a detail on Payton, even when she’s in my home. Something that will be tripled now that I’m leaving her alone.
As soon as I exit the elevator, my eyes track her movements in the glass box. She’s magnificent. And she has no clue I’m here.
I watch from a distance at first but then notice her eyes close as she moves. She’s going off memory, not even needing to see the space to know it.
With a stealthiness that Danny taught me years before, I open the door and step inside, pressing into the corner to bring minimal attention to myself.
She doesn’t even flinch as she continues to spin.
The music is loud, blocking out almost all my thoughts except for how beautiful she is when she dances.
It’s classical, perhaps even a popular tune, as I swear I’ve heard it before at some ballet I went to with Mama, but I can’t name it.
Even if I could, it wouldn’t distract me from the elegance of just her.
She pulls more than the eyes. She dances with her soul, and it calls out to those near who possess one. Surprisingly, I have one left, despite trying to sell it to keep myself alive in Russia. And it’s screaming at me to reach for her. To embrace her.
And never let go.