Chapter 19 It depends on the man
It depends on the man
Dina
The long bath, with top-notch bubbles and rubs and scrubs inside Crossbow’s private bathroom, was so nice that I barely dragged my ass out of it. I managed to put on a robe and wrap my hair in a towel before I sank into the mattress.
I wake up under a comforter so comfortable, I don’t think even five-star hotels would have it. The bedding smells like fresh lavender and sage. Massio Crossbow slept like a king.
A woman’s laughter makes me get up and walk out of the bedroom to peek downstairs.
Since the wall is all glass and the sheer white curtains are pulled back, I can see outside.
A tall, leggy brunette dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt is speaking with one of the twins.
From this distance, I can’t tell which brother she’s talking to.
I’m not sure why a woman would be here this early in the morning. It’s just supposed to be us. Declan said no staff. Do they have a sister? Connor’s girlfriend?
They sit down at the metal table, where breakfast is already laid out. She props her feet on the chair opposite her. I note she’s wearing leather boots. Hm.
I’m painfully aware that my legs are not long and my hair is not halfway down my back, but I lost at least ten pounds from the days they kept me starving at the station. Which is the only positive thing I can say about the past few days.
As I return to the bathroom, my reflection in the mirror scares me. My face. Good Lord. I lean over the counter and touch the swelling under my eyes. It’s purple and blue from the nosebleed. I’m grateful the cop didn’t break my nose.
I wish I had some sunglasses. Maybe there are some in the closet.
I drag my suitcase into the closet, which contains mainly a man’s wardrobe behind glass doors. It’s not enough that it’s a walk-in closet the size of some people’s whole apartment, but the clothing is protected from dust by the glass doors.
Massio Crossbow liked to wear colorful suits. People called him the Clown. Not to his face, of course, even though he would wear clown shoes and a plastic red nose. I spot several pairs of yellow clown shoes behind the glass.
I search for sunglasses.
I don’t find any, but I do find women’s dresses.
A wedding dress too. I think it’s Anabela’s.
I open the glass, then close it, thinking better of it.
I’m not going to snoop. I feel bad going through her things.
They’re family heirlooms at this point, and maybe her sons would want them untouched.
In fact, I recall Declan saying that Connor would take care of her clothes.
I wear my olive-green dress and step out of the bedroom, where I almost run into a man carrying a ladder.
“Excuse me,” he says.
“No, excuse me,” I tell him, because I almost ran into him, not the other way around. He climbs the ladder to reach something in the corner of the hallway. I think he’s putting in cameras.
As I descend the steps, I see that more workers are busy throughout the house, and some pass me as they enter the bedroom. Is he putting cameras in there? I better sleep in that panic room he suggested, because there is no way I can sleep in a room that’s being monitored. That’s creepy.
Outside, the brunette stands when I join them. She’s pretty, maybe my age, with a beautiful face and physique. She extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Slada.”
“Dina. Nice to meet you.”
“Slada is my friend,” Declan says. “We work together.”
A friend. And they work together. Great.
Breakfast is on the table, and Declan remains standing. “Sugar? Cream?” He picks up the coffeepot.
I’m not used to having anyone serve me anything, so my brain takes a beat to understand before I can answer. “Yes, please.”
He fixes me a coffee and sits back down, tucking his tie away from the plates as he does.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Slada asks me.
“I’m okay.”
“Do you have blurred vision, headache, or vomiting?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Good, this is good. I’m here because a woman did that to you.” Slada’s smile reminds me of a shark baring its teeth. “I’ll pay her a visit today.”
I look to Declan for an explanation, but he’s texting someone.
“What are you going to do to her?”
Declan puts down his phone and looks at Slada, who shrugs. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss here.”
Declan smiles. “I am, aren’t I? Dina, what would you have me do?”
I sip the coffee. Damn. I’ll have two of these. “Have her suspended. She isn’t supposed to grab my hair and slam my head against the table.”
Declan sighs. “Or cut off the hand she used to grab Dina’s hair.”
I giggle. “Or that.”
Slada cracks her knuckles as she stands. “Will do, boss.”
“No wait,” I say, horrified. “We’re still joking, aren’t we?”
Slada raises an eyebrow.
“Cutting off a hand is a little severe. I’m sure a suspension would suffice.”
Slada snorts. “Then I’ll suspend her. From the bridge or a crane?” Slada looks me dead in the eye. “Because that’s how the Crossbows do it. We have to maintain their reputation.”
“Get her fired. She can resign her post.”
“That’s better,” Declan says. “But not enough.”
“She can resign her post and move to the country, never to be seen again.”
“Ew. What’s that? Mercy?” Slada puts her hands together the way Declan did when he really wanted me to listen. “Please don’t make me show a violent powermonger mercy when I don’t have to. She needs a lesson, not forgiveness.”
“That’s fine,” Declan says. “Use your best judgment.”
Slada smiles. “See you around, Dina.”
Once Slada leaves, Declan and I share coffee in silence before the workers start on the terrace outside the bedroom.
They’re making a lot of noise, and if I’m going to listen to hammering this early in the morning, at least I can try to figure out what the hell they’re building.
They’re closing the terrace with thick glass.
Does Declan plan to put plants in there?
Is it a garden house? That would be pretty. It’s a nice idea.
I bet the view from up there is beautiful. I’ll go up when the men are finished.
I reach for the pot of coffee when I notice Declan staring at me. “Did you say something?”
He shakes his head. “Do you see anything you like?” He points up at the terrace.
“The view is the best in the city.”
“Is it now?” Declan pockets the phone and rolls his shoulders.
“What are they building?” I ask.
“A bulletproof screen.”
“Here I sat thinking you’d put in a flower garden.”
“Nothing stopping you from buying a plant and putting it inside. I hear delicate plants do well when enclosed and under planned care.”
The way he says that makes me think we’re not talking about plants.
He continues. “The only thing that can penetrate that glass my team is putting up is a missile. But don’t worry, I will soon have an air defense contractor come in. I would have them here already, but those special units are busy in already-active war zones. We’re not yet active.”
I stare at him.
A worker bends over the railing. He picks up a towel and wipes the sweat off his brow. It’s a particularly humid morning, and the sun is shining brightly. The man reaches behind him and removes his shirt. He shoves the cloth into the back of his pants.
Declan stares at me.
I give him a side-eye.
His eyes narrow. “More things you like?”
It dawns on me that he thought I was checking out the man. I wasn’t, though, now that he brought it up, the men are fine. But the feeling of Declan being jealous of me checking out another man is priceless. I smile. “I see the men,” I explain.
“Keep looking and you’ll see corpses.”
When Declan glares, I move to sit across from him with my back to the terrace. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” He pours me more coffee and hands me the cup.
Amused, I look at him over the rim of my cup.
Is it wrong that I think it’s sexy that he’s jealous of me noticing a man without a shirt?
I don’t know what other straight women find attractive, but a shirtless man in jeans working up a sweat is eye candy.
Or maybe I’m a pervert. Or maybe, as a woman, I should stop questioning myself about finding a shirtless man sexy, because if I were a man, it would be perfectly acceptable for me to eyeball every woman who showed even a sliver of skin.
Sergei eye fucked our neighbors. My clients. Waitresses. Chi-chi’s babysitter.
I don’t know how I put up with his flirty ways for as many years as I did. Some days, I think my friend did me a favor when she fucked him. And also, I should have more days when I think I’m blessed now that I’m away from him.
Slada reenters and nods in greeting. She drops a large black leather duffel on the seat I vacated. Banging from upstairs makes her look up and pause.
“Should I whistle?” she asks.
I laugh.
“Goodbye, Slada,” Declan says.
She winks at me and leaves.
Declan unzips the bag and digs inside. He pulls out a phone and a small pistol and puts them on the table along with pepper spray. “She already has the vest,” he mumbles to himself. “Is there anything I’m forgetting to give you?”
“I don’t think so. Declan, listen, I know it doesn’t look that way now, but I can take care of myself.”
“I disagree.”
I put down my cup. “How so?”
“You’re confusing taking care of your family with taking care of yourself.”
“I’ve been on my own, without a man for months now.”
“And how is that working out for you?”
I grit my teeth. “The day you hit thirty-seven and realize your entire life was a made-up delusion and you need to rebuild yourself is the day you get to lecture me about independence.”
“Why would I wait when I can lecture you now? Your husband is piling you with legal debt. You are exhausted, broke, and tired. If you continue fighting him over the divorce, you’ll lose everything because he’s an asshole you refused to turn into the police when he slapped you around a few times.
Don’t deny it. I read your daughter’s report from seven years ago.
” Declan turns his phone over so I can read what he’s reading.
I’m shocked, speechless. Humiliated that anyone else knows that Sergei became violent, and I forgave him.
I did. I forgave him, and I hid it, too embarrassed to admit I’d let him manipulate me for so many years.
“Sergei won’t stop until you make him. That’s just the kind of man he is. So no, you can’t take care of yourself. Baby, if you could, you would have used that gun you pointed at me when I arrived at your house. That’s the gun you bought to shoot him with if he ever attacked you again, isn’t it?”
“You think you have it all figured out. Life is not all black and white, Declan. It’s also pink. Sergei and I have a child together. She’s all grown up now, but she wasn’t back then. I did what I thought I had to do to be a good mother for her. You don’t know what that means.” I stand to leave.
Declan catches my wrist, trying to stop me. I move away, crying.
“Fuck, Dina. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Well, no, I should’ve, but not this way.” He sighs. “I know you’re trying. I’m only saying… I’m asking you to let me take care of you.”
Sergei “took care” of me for years. He framed it the same way Declan is. “I can’t let a man take care of me again. That would be like sticking my right hand into the fire after the left one got burned.”
“Fair enough,” Declan says and gives me a tissue. “I’m angry I didn’t take him out that day you guys argued on the street.”
I accept the tissue and sit back down.
“On most days, that makes two of us. But maybe you also had some mercy in your heart.”
Declan pushes the phone and the pistol toward me. “Nah, baby, my vision was compromised, and I wasn’t sure I could make the shot without hitting you too.”
I frown. “You watched us through the rifle scope?”
A nod.
Oh my God. “A sniper rifle?” I shiver. This makes me so uncomfortable. I look around. “Are they watching that way?”
Declan leans back in his chair, a smirk on his pretty face. “Now do you get why there are high walls, bushes, and bulletproof glass?”
“You know what? You are right. I can’t possibly take care of myself when it wouldn’t have occurred to me that a man would watch me from a window using his rifle scope instead of, I don’t know, his eyes or binoculars.”
“I guess it depends on the man.”
I go still.
Declan stares. He knows he landed a punch. “It depends on the man,” I repeat. Meaning, I should give him a chance. I don’t know if I can, but he made his point.
I take the phone that he gave me. There are unopened messages from contacts labeled Dad and Daughter.
“They already know this number and think it’s me?”
“That’s because of Connor. Did he say something he shouldn’t have?”
“He told my daughter where I’m staying.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“That’s not okay.” I touch my forehead. “He shouldn’t have told her I’m staying here.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is the Crossbow mansion.”
Declan stares. The silence between us drives home his second point.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry…”
“You are ashamed that you’re here. With me.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Sure it is. I’m my father’s son, after all.”
“In Selnoa, his reputation transfers to you. You can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. This is the Crossbow mansion.
My daughter will wonder what I’m doing here and who I’m with.
She will tell her dad, who will use this against me in court.
You coming here and sweeping me off my feet and putting me in your mansion doesn’t change anything about the life I’m trying to sort out.
Sergei and I are still getting divorced.
My daughter is still my daughter, and she comes first.”
Now I’m definitely leaving. I get up again, but Declan stands up with me.
Since I’m crying again, he does what he seems to always do when I cry.
He holds my head between his palms and wipes my tears with his thumbs.
I know he wants to kiss me but doesn’t. So I rise onto my toes and kiss him on the mouth.
His lips are warm and soft, and his cologne is just spicy enough to be masculine.
“Mom?”