A whole day.
She hadn’t answered a single email, phone call, text, or Skype notification. Dimitri shoved the sunglasses up his nose when they slipped down. The GPS kept telling him this was the place, but it was a shithole. Becca couldn’t possibly live in this neighborhood. He’d seen gang members hanging out on the corner eyeballing his rental car. It was only a Mercedes, but the parts alone were probably worth stripping it down for.
Fuck it. He pulled to a stop outside the building that was supposed to be hers. He knew she lived on the third floor in apartment 321 because he’d mailed enough stuff to her over the last two years to know it by heart. He beeped the alarm and went inside. Taking off his shades, Dimitri looked around at the dingy, stained walls and muddy floors. Did they not employ someone to clean around here?
A quick search confirmed his worst suspicion. No elevator. He straightened his spine and headed for the stairs, dreading each step that would wear him out. He hadn’t brought his cane, and he refused to touch the railing. He could only imagine what might be on it. His white sports coat was the cleanest thing in the whole place.
Dimitri’s legs started to burn right before he hit the second floor. That took less time than he’d hoped for. By the time he dragged himself to the third floor, the burning morphed into all-out pain. If he didn’t need to talk to her so badly, he would have said fuck it and left, but he needed her.
And he hated to have to need her.
This was a new situation for him. The neurotoxin he’d been exposed to forced him into this situation and was one he couldn’t handle on his own. He’d kept everything that happened right before Christmas off social media. No one knew how badly he’d been injured thanks to the Boston serial killer who’d set his sights on Kade’s wife. Not that he blamed his brother’s wife. Angel had suffered far worse than he, and she was a sweetheart.
But it put him in a shitty place.
The hallway reeked of pot. He could only assume the place was full of dealers. Why did she live here? He found her door easily enough, but instead of knocking, he stood there a moment. Maybe he’d lost his mind. She quit. Without even a moment’s thought. She’d fucking up and quit, and then wouldn’t even discuss it. To be fair, he did flat-out tell her she was fired if she refused to go, but he’d never expected her to quit. Maybe call and argue and give him a chance to convince her she had to go, but this? No.
Or maybe it was because he wasn’t used to hearing the word no, especially from a woman. Women were always there, gladly doing whatever it took to get his attention. His baby brother, Nikoli, had learned all his moves from him. Dimitri was the original manwhore and proudly wore the title. He enjoyed his women. He just didn’t enjoy them when they got all clingy.
Rebecca was the longest relationship he’d ever had with a woman. She was the one woman he spoke to at least once a day, and sometimes a few minutes would turn into hours late at night when sleep eluded him. They were friends. Or he’d thought so. He knew her from high school. She’d been a freshman and he a senior when they met. His math teacher thought making him do detention in the library would be a hardship for him. Unfortunately for Mr. Lester, Dimitri loved books. Books of all genres. It was where he’d found Becca, her nose buried in a book at the very back of the small school library.
He’d scared her half to death when he’d said hello that first day. She’d jumped, lost her balance, and crashed into the shelves. Face flaming, she’d run. He watched her go, amused. Typically, he’d have chucked the experience off, but spending two months’ detention in the library had put her squarely in his line of vision every day. She’d been shy and tended to stay to herself. He still wasn’t sure why he’d made it a point to say hello to her. Maybe because no one else did. Regardless, she’d been worth the effort.
Dimitri used their shared love of books to start a conversation with her. Not that it had been easy to get her to talk to him. Becca hardly ever spoke a word to anyone. Hell, she barely said a word to him, but he refused to let her ignore him. He’d eventually convinced her to friend him on Facebook, and that was how he’d gotten to know the real Rebecca Rhodes. She opened up in chat. The girl was funny as hell and had a heart the size of Texas. They’d been friends since.
She was also a wizard when it came to Photoshop. Photoshop hated him. He’d had a war with the program over layers that lasted three days. Photoshop won, and he’d deleted the program from his computer in a fit of spite. She’d bailed him out big time, and it happened to be for the book that blew up and introduced readers to him. He’d hired her to help him with graphics and making teasers and banners after that. Their working relationship grew until she officially took on the role of his PA. Becca was right about one thing. She worked damn hard doing all the things he couldn’t or wouldn’t. And he didn’t pay her nearly enough, especially if she lived in this rat hole. First thing he was going to do was give her a raise.
Rolling his neck to ease some of the tension, he knocked. He wasn’t about to lose the one woman who mattered a damn to him outside of his mother and babushka over something as stupid as telling her she was fired if she didn’t come to a signing.
Not that she wasn’t coming. She was. She just didn’t know it yet.
When no signs of life stirred behind the closed door, he knocked more forcefully. Given the neighborhood she lived in, an unexpected knock at the door might be the wrong way to go about this.
“Becca!” He raised his voice loud enough for anyone in the nearby apartments to hear him. “I’m not going away. I can stand here all day!”
Not that he could. His legs would soon give out if he didn’t sit.
Her heard movement, the sound of feet running, and then the door was all but ripped open. She stood gaping up at him, all five feet, three inches of blonde fluff. She didn’t even come to his shoulder. A strong gust of wind could knock her over.
“Wh…what are you doing here?” Her voice was as soft as he remembered it. Dainty.
“What did you expect me to do? You quit then wouldn’t answer your damn phone.” Three doors opened, and her nosy neighbors made no bones about eavesdropping. “Can I come in? Please?”
She stepped back and held the door open. Her brown eyes were not at all friendly, though. She went from shocked to see him to pissed. Did she honestly think he’d let her quit without a fight?
Her apartment was clean and tidy. The small loveseat that served as a couch was a deep red, with a white quilt across the back of it, and white and black throw pillows decorated each end. The scuffed-up coffee table looked worn out. Thrift store purchases, maybe? Here she was, living in a dump with secondhand furniture, and he was out living it up. She deserved better than this, and he’d make sure she had it.
“I repeat, what are you doing here, Dimitri?” She stayed with her back pressed against the door, and he delved deeper into the living room. Her laptop lay open on the table, and he noticed she was looking through job openings on Monster.com. Damn, she really was looking for a new job.
“What the hell is that?” He gestured to the laptop, his irritation growing.
“A laptop?”
“Don’t be cute, Rebecca. You know exactly what I mean.”
Becca did know exactly what he meant. She was job hunting. He’d given her an ultimatum—come to Charleston or be fired. Since there was no way her anxiety would allow her to go to his signing, she’d quit and started looking for something else right away. She had rent to pay, and it wasn’t easy finding something she could do from home.
What she hadn’t expected was for him to show up at her door before she’d even had a shower. Here she was in a nightshirt that read Got Coffee? and he was there dressed in some designer special. They weren’t exactly on even footing at the moment.
“I have to find a job, D. I have bills to pay.”
“You have a job.”
“No, I don’t, because I can’t go with you.” She pushed off the door and went into her barely there kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. She needed caffeine if they were going to verbally brawl. It would help soothe her nerves. Having Dimitri in her space wasn’t helping her anxiety either. Yes, she’d known him for what seemed like forever, but she hadn’t seen him in person since the end of her freshman year in high school. He took up the entire room without even trying. Dimitri was a big man. Tall, over six feet, easily. Blond hair like her own. Blue eyes that reminded her of a cloudless summer sky. He was beautiful.
The only problem? He knew it and used it to his advantage. Always. He’d told her all about the crazy things women did to get his attention. They had no clue he couldn’t care less about their shenanigans. He just wanted in their pants, and once he grew tired of them, he tossed them aside like yesterday’s first draft. So why shouldn’t she think he would discard her as easily as he did all the others? Once her usefulness ran out, what other reason could he have for sticking around?
“Why can’t you go?” He sat on her couch, and she winced when it barely fit him. He looked pristine next to the faded fabric, making her want him here even less.
How to tell him she was terrified of going outside her door? It was an irrational fear, she knew. One she had to face, her therapist told her. She wasn’t on the whole train of thought of medicate her and let her be or say it was okay to live with anxiety for the rest of her life. Doctor Gainey thought the only way anyone ever got over a fear was to face it head on. She wasn’t ready to do that yet, though. She might not ever be.
“Why do you even need someone to go with you?” Better to go on the offensive before he started in with the dimples and the pleases. She was a sucker for those, and he knew it.
“Because I do.” His eyes took on that bullheaded, stubborn look she’d only heard in his voice, but she remembered it, and remembered it well. It was the same look he gave her every day in high school when she refused to speak to him. He’d gotten his way then too.
“Then take Chrissy, or Kathy, or…what the hell is her name?” She could never keep them straight. This last one had lasted a while, though.
“Charlene?”
“Whatever.” She shrugged. “Take your flavor of the week with you.”
“Flavor of the week?” He tilted his head, thinking. “That’s a good description. I’m using it in my next book.”
Becca leaned against the sink and crossed her arms. “Well, take her.”
“Can’t, Krasivaya. I sent her packing last week.”
That was a new word. She’d have to look it up later. It used to frustrate her to no end when he’d refuse to conduct the conversation in English to piss her off. It was one of the methods he’d used to get her to talk to him in high school. She’d been curious enough to start looking words up.
“I’m sure you’ve got a new trollop waving you down on all sides. Take one of them.”
“No. I don’t.” His face turned serious. “I want—no, I need you to go, Becca.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the only person I trust.”
Not what she’d expected to hear. Did he worry someone would dip into the money bag and rob him blind? If that was the case, he needed to invest in new women with actual morals, not his loose floozies.
“That makes no sense, Dimitri.” She pulled down two coffee mugs and dug out a half gallon of milk from the fridge. “It’s a book signing. No one there but readers and other authors. Unless you’re worried about theft? Just take credit cards, no cash. You’ll be fine with whomever.”
Dimitri nearly swallowed his tongue when she bent over in the fridge and her short nightshirt rode up her ass, revealing a pair of very lacy pink panties. He’d been paying attention to a lot from the second she’d opened the door. Rebecca wasn’t one for video chat. She always preferred texting or chatting online. She’d voice chat occasionally, but it meant he’d barely seen her over the last few years.
But he was seeing her now.
Sweet Jesus, the girl had grown up. He’d noticed all that long blonde hair flying in all directions, her face flushed and her breathing a little winded, a just fucked look if ever there was one. It made him wonder if she’d been busy before he’d started pounding on her…on her door. Pounding on her door. God. He needed to stop this. It was Becca, not his, what did she call it? Flavor of the week. She was Becca, not his flavor of the week.
Didn’t stop him from appreciating the fine ass she had on display or the fact she was braless. That hadn’t escaped his attention either. It was starting to make him uncomfortable, and if he stood up right now, it wouldn’t be his legs that were the problem, but an entirely different part of his anatomy. One she wouldn’t appreciate.
“It’s not theft.” He watched her pour the coffee and add the barest hint of milk to hers before gesturing to his own. He shook his head. He drank coffee as black as he could get it.
“Then what is it, D?” She sounded genuinely confused.
“Why won’t you even talk about going with me?” He knew he was going to have to open up about his injury, but he dreaded it. No one really knew how bad it was, outside of his doctors. Not even his family. He’d flown back out to LA as soon as the neurosurgeon in Boston gave him the all clear to travel. His weakness was not something he wanted to come clean about with anyone.
She came around the bar, holding both cups of coffee. Her boobs bounced, and he found himself watching them as she walked. Shit, when did she grow boobs? Wasn’t she flat-chested? Or maybe she’d just worn clothes that hid her glorious figure? Shit, shit, shit. He needed to get his eyes off her chest before she realized what he was doing.
“I think the real question is why you dodged my question.” She thrust the mug at him and he took it, trying his best not to notice her breasts at eye level. “What’s going on, D?”
Dimitri cracked his neck to relieve the tension. The woman never did let him by with shit. She knew him better than even his brothers.
The coffee tasted delicious. She lived in a shithole, had secondhand furniture, and yet allowed herself damn good coffee? Her priorities were all screwed up.
How to tell her about his disability? She knew about the incident, but not the details. No one outside his family knew all the details. She sat down in her ugly brown chair and sipped her own coffee. A light sigh floated to him as she savored her first taste. Her small, pink tongue darted out to retrieve any lost liquid.
Fuck. He was getting harder. Maybe taking Becca with him wasn’t the best idea. He’d end up screwing her and it would ruin everything. He knew himself all too well. The one thing he didn’t want to fuck up was his friendship with Becca.
“Dimitri?”
His gaze snapped up to her face when he heard the irritation in her voice. She’d seen exactly where his eyes were, and she looked pissed. Dammit. Coming here was a bad idea. It put all sorts of new thoughts in his head, thoughts his dick couldn’t or wouldn’t ignore.
“Either tell me why you’re insisting I go with you or get the hell out. I don’t have time for you to sit here and drool. They’re just boobs. All women have them.”
Not like that, they didn’t. He blinked, trying to clear the sudden lust that crept up on him. He did not need his dick thinking for him. He needed Becca, and his damn dick would have to ignore his own desires for once.
“You remember I told you about that shit that went down in Boston with Kade and his wife?”
Becca nodded, frowning. He’d told her a little about it, but not much. She’d wondered if there was more to the story than he’d told her. She could ignore his roving eyes for a minute for this. It was something he did without even realizing it. She’d decided that after watching him for a year. Any girl he met, his eyes hit her boobs first. It was just Dimitri.
Not that she was about to tell him his eyes made her nipples hard. If she gave him that much, he’d take a mile, and she would not end up as one of his women. That was a notch he wasn’t going to get near placing on the proverbial bedpost.
“My injuries were more serious than I told anyone.” He took another sip and she settled back to hear him out. “The neurotoxin did severe nerve damage to my legs. I’m doing physical therapy three times a week to try to regain the strength in them.”
“You’re walking fine, Dimitri.” She’d seen him waltz in and make himself at home. Surely he couldn’t have walked up three flights of stairs if he was that bad off.
“How long did it take me to sit, and have I moved since I sat?”
Well, come to think of it, he’d sat down as soon as he came in. Her gaze shifted to his legs. At first, she’d thought he was only playing up his injuries, but the man she knew wouldn’t lie about something like this. All her anger deflated and was replaced by concern. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that walking up those stairs nearly did me in. I may not be able to stand up for a bit.”
This had to be killing him. Dimitri was a very active person, always outdoors hiking, camping, rock climbing. Losing even partial use of his legs would be debilitating to a man like him.
“Don’t pity me, Becca.”
His voice came out low, rough, and angry. Goosebumps broke out over her skin. Ignoring her reaction to him, she hurried to reassure him. “It’s not pity, D. I promise. I guess I’m sad because you’re sad. Comes with the title of best friend.”
His lips tilted in that half smile she loved. It made his dimple stand out.
“I love you, Becca. You know that?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I know, but you have to. No one else would put up with your shit.”
“I don’t think I like this new foul mouth of yours. Or maybe I do. It’s hot.”
She laughed, knowing he didn’t mean anything by it. He would never see her like he did one of his bimbos.
“Drink your coffee before it gets cold. I still don’t see why this requires me going with you. You’ll be sitting most of the time, and you can have the hotel staff cart your books to and from the room.”
“No, Becca. I want you to come with me. You’re the only person I trust with this. I don’t want it getting out on social media, and if I have to have help, people are going to start asking questions.”
“And me helping you won’t make them ask questions?”
“No. You’re my PA. No one would think twice about you helping me.”
He’d gotten obstinate again, and mulish. And it dawned on her in a flash of clarity. He was afraid. But of what?
“Dimitri.” She set her cup down and leaned forward. “I don’t understand why you need me specifically. Any woman would be glad to help you.”
“Yes, but any woman might go and run her mouth about my condition.”
“Make me understand why you are terrified of your secret getting out. It’s not something you did to yourself, nothing to be embarrassed about, and certainly nothing to be ashamed of. What’s the big deal?”
He let out a frustrated sigh and put his own mug down. She watched as he struggled for the right words. For a man who could throw out a story a month, telling anyone about his true feelings was hard for him. It never ceased to amaze her.
“How would it look, Becca, if readers found out? I’m supposed to personify the men in my books. People read my books because of what I look like. If they see me as anything less than whole…” He stopped speaking, his head drooping.
“I call bullshit.” She felt heat rush up to her cheeks, but in anger this time. “People read your books not because of what you look like, but because of the story. So what if you can’t walk so well? No one is going to care.”
“But I care.” His words were so low she almost missed them.
“Dimitri, you have a pretty face and a body to drool over, but again, so what? Men like that are a dime a dozen. What you do with words? That’s not a dime a dozen. Your words touch people’s hearts. It’s why they buy your books.”
She could see he didn’t believe her. The man had serious self-esteem issues. How had she missed this? All these years, and she’d never seen it, but it was staring her in the face. He honestly believed what he wrote didn’t matter. He thought it was all about his face.
His nostrils flared. “Becca, I can’t make you understand, but I’m terrified to go and that people will find out. Please come with me. You’re the only person I trust to do this for me. Please.”
Well, hell. He was giving her the puppy dog eyes. She felt like a shit saying no, but it was too much. She hadn’t been outside this apartment in two years. How could she make him understand she couldn’t go?
“I can’t.”
Dimitri stared at her, and she squirmed, but she didn’t back down. He wanted to shake her. He’d bared his soul to her, told her his deepest, darkest fear. That he wasn’t good enough, that it was only about what he looked like, the kind of man he personified. And she still said no.
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Best friends?”
She nodded, eyes downcast so she didn’t have to look at him. Oh, hell no. “Eyes up, Rebecca. You give me your eyes when you spew your own bullshit.”
He expected every emotion from spitting mad to regret, but not all-out fear. Her pupils were dilated, panicked. When she jumped up and staggered back, he stood himself. What was wrong with her?
She shook her head at him, eyes going wilder every second. Her breathing picked up, and she backed away from him slowly.
“Don’t ask me that, Dimitri. I can’t…I just…I can’t. Please.”
She turned and ran down the hall. He was left bewildered and listening to the sound of a door slamming.
What the fuck just happened?