SEVENTEEN

It wasn’t until two days later, just before dark, that Dale was delivered curbside to her dad’s house. Two busy days spent planning—they’d agreed to have a private ceremony Sunday evening as Yuri had announced Kostya would be allowed home by the end of the week where he would be supervised by the surgeon and a small staff. Two busy days spent searching for a true psychopath who appeared to have fallen off the face of the earth. Two days of quiet talks in Lukas’s home office, where he tried his best to learn her life story—Dale told him only what she was able to talk about without feeling like vomiting, then she usually distracted him by crawling into his lap and ending the conversation with sex unlike anything anyone had ever experienced in the history of sex. Two days of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners spent hearing bits and pieces of Lukas’s history that Samuel, Farah, and Vasily seemed happy to share. Visiting with her future father-in-law and dress shopping, wedding dress shopping—done online—had taken up the rest of their time.

“This is where you grew up?”

Dale looked around the average neighborhood with its simple brick bungalows spaced out on either side. There were trees everywhere, including the big one in the middle of her dad’s front yard. She nodded and reached for the handle to open the door. “Quite a leap from stables in the backyard and vacations in Belize, huh?”

Lukas climbed out of the driver’s side of an extravagant car he’d told Dale was a Pagani Huayra. She’d never heard of the brand before much less seen or ridden in one. He and Maksim had spent some time discussing the make as Maksim also had one back in New York.

“They won’t offer one,” she murmured as they walked along the flowerbed, “but don’t you dare accept an invite into the house.” She heard two engines shut down behind them. A motorcycle being driven by Milan was parked at the curb in front of Lukas’s car. The Land Rover carrying Adam and Yasha was parked behind them.

The sight of a blue bicycle laying between her dad’s Toyota and the garage had Dale stalling, the years falling away. She looked to the side, between the houses, and almost expected to see him lope around the corner, his black hair sweeping into his eyes, his mouth turned down in a frown that he’d worn as naturally as any other body part.

“Dale?”

Her chest compressed when the space between the houses remained empty. “Yeah. Sorry. The bike…it…rattled me.” She grabbed Lukas’s hand, linking their fingers, and started moving again, faster than before.

He stopped her. “Why did it rattle you?”

“I’ll tell you later.” She pulled.

All six-three of him stood there as if he’d grown roots out of his feet. “Tell me now.”

She put her back to the house and grabbed the open sides of his midnight-blue suit jacket. She gave them a jerk that made their bodies bump together then hugged up to his solid support and stayed. “They’re going to be looking out the window behind us. I don’t want to be here, Lukas, so if we could move this along, I’d appreciate it.”

“Why, Dale?”

As her nape tightened and the feeling of being observed grew, so too did her urgency to get her shit and scram. “Let me tell you later. Please,” she hissed. “I’ll even make you a deal. How about, uh, I’ll get the full-length white dress with the beadwork instead of the shorter plain cream one I could tell you didn’t like. ‘Kay? Deal?” She put her hand into his. “Squeeze to shake.”

He bent and kissed her on the mouth as he squeezed. “Deal. But with the veil.”

“Fuuuck me,” she groaned against his lips. “Fine. The veil. I’m going to look so stupid standing on your veranda in that contraption.”

“It’s our veranda. And you’re going to look as if you should be walking down a runway, and you know it. Now take a breath and let me meet this dickhead who told his impressionable daughter her opinions didn’t matter.”

She blinked. “You remember that?”

His mouth went crooked. “It’s only been a few days since you told me, so, yeah, I remember.”

She went up and kissed him. “In case I forget to tell you later, you’re pretty great.”

He smiled and finally let her drag him to the door. She knocked.

“What the fuck is that?”

“What.”

He had a look of angry disbelief on his face. “Where’s your key? I thought this was your home.”

She brought her head back and looked at the half-moon window. “His new wife asked for it when I moved out.”

Dale thought she heard him mutter fucking bitch, but she couldn’t say for sure because the door was pulled open. Her dad stood there with the wife behind his left shoulder, her dark hair the same box shade as her husbands. When they saw Lukas, Dale’s dad frowned, and Ursula’s eyes went round, a gross, almost covetous smile forming on her face.

“Dale?”

Why did he always say her name as if he had to confirm it was her and not some imposter? “Hey, Dad. I’m here…” Should she mention the permission he’d granted on Saturday? “For the things you were holding for me.” That was vague enough.

“What things?” Ursula asked.

Her husband ignored her, but it didn’t come naturally. “Didn’t you take them when you left on Sunday?”

Lukas stiffened next to her.

Dale bit back a sigh. “I didn’t show Saturday night, so, no, I didn’t have the chance to get them.” Seeing Ursula’s smile slip as she glared at the back of her husband’s head, Dale nodded at the closet. “If you could give me my bag, we’ll let you get back to your evening.”

Lukas’s hand came sailing out to hang between them all. “Mr. Vaner, I’m Lukas Zavrazin, Dale’s fiancé.”

Dale gritted her teeth. She’d wanted him here for support—he’d refused to let her come on her own—but she’d had no intention of introducing him.

Her dad didn’t hide his surprise as he warily shook Lukas’s hand. “Fiancé.” He looked at her. “Things with Levi just ended. How have you moved on so fast?”

The censure in his tone wasn’t appreciated. “His name was Liam, Dad. And, really? You’re going to stand here and attempt to lecture me on fidelity?” she asked bluntly while glancing at Ursula and wondering how long it would be before she was the other woman. “Can I have my bag, please?”

He kept his eyes away from Lukas—didn’t attempt any conversation to get to know the man his daughter was marrying—and stepped back. He bumped into Ursula and had to work his way around her to open the closet because the nosey idiot barely moved.

“A Zavrazin owned a club my friends and I used to go to before I had my kid,” Ursula said to Lukas. “Great place. Any relation of yours?”

Dale could feel Lukas’s eyes on her, but she didn’t return the look as she watched her dad move a blanket off her bag before pulling it out. He’d tried to hide it better after she’d left the other day. Nice.

“Which club?” Lukas asked in a brittle tone that would have sent Dale searching for an excuse to leave had it been aimed at her.

“Scorch.”

“It’s my brother’s.”

“Oh! Wow! Great place,” Ursula repeated, gushing the words as she leaned against the wall so she could squish her arms together and plump her cleavage.

Dale wanted to tell her she’d missed a spot with her self-tanner. A white patch on her left boob had an uneven orange border.

Lukas completely ignored the obvious woman and took Dale’s duffel from her father without thanking him. He linked his and Dale’s fingers again and pulled her away from the uncomfortable scene.

“Thanks, Dad,” she called back without getting a response as they motored toward the car. Yasha was handed her bag, and without a word, he carried it back to the Land Rover while Lukas opened the door and helped her into the car. It felt like she was sitting on the street as he slammed the panel shut before going around to his side.

He got in and slammed his door so hard she was surprised the glass didn’t shatter. As a sexy growl came from the engine, an equally sexy one came from her mobster. Then he was voicing his anger. In Russian.

“Hey, I have an idea,” she said, speaking loudly so as to be heard. “How about you speak English so I can understand what’s happening in your beautiful head?”

“He did not hug you or even smile at you!” he roared as they sped off down the street, his accent more pronounced than she’d ever heard it. “He did not even congratulate you on your coming marriage! His daughter! How the fuck did he not know you hadn’t shown at his house on Saturday night? If I hadn’t taken you, Garrett Dawson could have snatched you after work and not a motherfucking soul would have known because your own goddamn father was not aware that you had not come home!” He obeyed a stop sign, but just barely.

“Lukas, it’s okay.”

As she found herself plastered to the seat, he gave her a black look. “It’s okay?” he asked in a chilling tone. “It’s okay, Magdalena? How can you fucking say that? Jesus Christ, I wanted to break his jaw for the total lack of interest he just showed. But the boy was watching so I couldn’t even tell the fucker off. Has he always been like that with you?”

Her stomach soured. “Yes. What boy?”

He stopped behind a taxi sitting at a red light. “Yes? Yes?” He growled again and flexed his hands on the steering wheel. “The one peering around the corner from what you said was the living room. His hair was lighter than his mother’s fake shit, but he shared her narrow face.”

Dale hadn’t seen him. Thank God. Where did he sleep? “How old did he look?”

Lukas blew out a hard breath that apparently helped calm him because his voice wasn’t so sharp when he said, “Six or seven.”

She nodded and tried so hard not to care as they zoomed past houses, St. Francis Church, Dale’s old school. When they reached the freeway, she stared at sign after sign. Best Buy. Marshalls. Olive Garden. Crown Plaza Suites. But by the time they merged onto sixty-nine, with her stomach aching along with her heart, she knew she’d lost.

“My parents were weird,” she said as she focused on the taillight of Milan’s Ducati. “My dad worked nights driving a cab—he’s with Uber now. When he wasn’t working, he was sleeping so we either we had to be quiet or get out of the house until he woke. And then we had to be quiet because he was having his dinner and watching his shows before he had to leave for his shift.”

Lukas stared at the road, his jaw stiff, and Dale waited for the questions to come.

They didn’t. All that happened was, once he shifted gears, he reached over and took her hand. His thumb rubbed over her ring every little while as, for the first time, he gave her the freedom to speak only if she wanted to.

The ploy worked.

***

Lukas couldn’t speak through the icy rage locked in his throat. He wanted to demand more. He needed fucking details about Dale’s life. But he couldn’t get a word out, and, naturally, his well-protected clam didn’t give up shit without prodding.

Until she miraculously did.

“My mom wasn’t the best either. She was…cold.”

So fucking grateful for even that, he let up on the accelerator and placed a kiss on her wrist. She took their hands back and began playing with his fingers as she gathered her thoughts.

“I’m aware it sounds gripey, but, she didn’t care about us.”

Lukas looked over when she pluralized again. “Us? You and your father?”

She dropped her eyes to their hands, but the agony he caught before she hid from his gaze had his gut spasming. “I had a brother.”

Her announcement sent shock sweeping through him. “What? Where is he? What do you mean ‘had?’”

“He’s gone. Dead.”

“Oh, fuck, Dale.” He squeezed her hand, pissed that they were in the car now that she’d finally decided to open up. Or maybe that was why she was talking. Because he wasn’t able to entirely focus on her. “I’m so fucking sorry, yagodka.”

“Thanks. Anyway, like I was saying, my mom didn’t take much of an interest in either of her children. It sucked, but I got through it.”

Her brother hadn’t. “How did your brother die?”

“He just did.”

Shut down. Hard. What the fuck could that mean? Murder? Disease? Suicide? “Okay.” He kept the disappointment he felt out of his voice and waited to see if she’d give him anything more. He heard her take a deep breath, and then she broke his heart.

“My mom never came to school for track and field events, never saw me in a play, and wasn’t interested in seeing me come first place in my cross country meets. She never talked to me about boys, didn’t give me anything resembling a birds-and-the-bees talk, and I only knew about getting my period because the girls in my class talked endlessly about it when they got theirs. She never picked me up after school, didn’t come to the office the day I broke Jason Barber’s nose for tickling me, I have no school photos because she never bothered ordering them, and I never complained about it, which meant Oma didn’t know it bothered me enough for her to learn how to do it. My brother…he didn’t care, about anything, so… Anyway, I had two birthday parties that Oma put on for me, and to show you what a winner she was, my mom went out with friends because she didn’t like the noise. When Oma died…” She squinted and looked out the windshield. “She didn’t cry. The cold-hearted bitch didn’t cry when her own fucking mother died. She looked at her watch. We sat in the pew with my dad almost snoring, and she looked at her stupid piece of shit watch that her boss had given her for Christmas. She lives with him now in Florida.”

Her arm’s length way of living was suddenly beginning to make sense. “Do you see her often?” He had to ask, even though he wasn’t sure how he’d react if she said yes.

“No.”

Thank fuck. “Do you talk with her? On the phone? Texting?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Good.

In a move Lukas saw as her finally showing him she was coming to trust him, Dale shifted, moving her body so she was facing him.

“I remember when I was five or six, our neighbors across the street had this big dog I’d play with—I don’t know what breed he was. We were screwing around on the road one day, and I went to run, but he tripped me up and I fell instead. Tore my knee open.” She passed her fingers over her right knee, but he couldn’t see anything because she was wearing a pair of black high-waist pants with her black heels and clinging red blouse. “I ran into the house, freaking out because the skin was hanging off like a piece of bologna and blood was running down my shin. My mom was on the phone with her friend, and as I pointed to my leg and tried to stop crying because I knew she didn’t like that, she put her hand on my forehead and pushed back until I was just outside the kitchen door. Then she put her finger to her lips and let the door swing shut in my face.”

She paused, her forehead creasing like she was confused. She was staring at his chest, but by the vacant look in her eyes, she was six years old and back behind that kitchen door.

“I went to…my brother’s room, but he was…in a mood, so I left and went to the bathroom. Cleaned my knee with toilet paper.”

She stopped again, and he watched her rebuild her walls by moving to face forward. She sat stiffly, her back a straight shot of spine. “Made a fucking mess,” she murmured, her voice small. “But I got the job done on my own. After, I tried to reach my mom again and again. Eventually stopped, though. I guess I understood on some level we’d never connect.” She closed down completely when she turned away to look out the passenger window, saying, “When she left when I was fifteen, I wasn’t heartbroken. I wasn’t.”

That last whispered add-on proved she had been.

Lukas swallowed past a thickness in his throat as he compared her upbringing to his, noting the difference between what had been denied her and the unconditional love and affection he’d lived with all his life. He was almost embarrassed to admit he’d taken much of it for granted because it was just the way things were.

The way things should have been for his beautiful little berry.

And the way things would be for her from here on out.