NINETEEN

Why are you seeking him out?

Wandering through the darkened living room, Dale still didn’t know the answer to that any more than she had when she’d asked herself the question while leaving the bedroom.

She’d woken thirty minutes ago, alone, and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep for wondering if Lukas had left or if he was somewhere in the house.

He was here, she now saw. Sitting beside the pool, smoking a cigar with Vasily standing in front of him.

Okay. You’ve seen him. Now go back to bed.

She should have, but she kept going, passing by the slowly turning globe and glass encased jeweled peacock figurines she’d admired earlier today. She told herself it was the novelty of actually enjoying someone’s company that had brought her down here, but the relief weakening her bones made her a liar. She’d needed to make sure Lukas was okay.

That didn’t alarm her as much as it would have even yesterday.

As she neared the door, she heard Vasily talking.

“…another week. We’ll be going from here to Seattle then returning to New York later in the month.”

“What’s in Seattle?” Lukas asked as he watched Dale stick her head out the open French doors. He lifted a hand and beckoned her over by crooking two fingers.

Vasily looked back but continued talking as he gave her a nod. “Gabriel is still there. Alek isn’t at the moment because I’m using the jet.”

“How are the boys? I haven’t seen Moretti since he was in Houston before Christmas. He came in to iron out some details with the builders for a project they’re overseeing in River Oaks.”

Vasily nodded. “They’ve been doing a lot of business here the past couple of years. Legit business.” He sighed over that. “I’ll be happy when both of them realize they’re meant for more than this half-life they’re living.”

Lukas took her hand when she reached him and tried to draw her into his lap. She held back and, while he smirked, she settled on the arm of his chair.

“Is his brother still running things? I’ve heard some stories. Guy sounds like an asshole.”

“He certainly has assholes under him,” Vasily allowed as he gave them a wave and bid them good night.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Dale watched Vasily disappear into the house. She liked him. He had a very calm aura. It was too bad that the more time she spent around him, the easier it was for her to see his peace was an odd form of detachment rather than serenity.

“You didn’t. He was already on his way in.” He tugged on the hem of the oversized grey sweatshirt she’d paired with grey sweatpants and no socks. “Come here.”

She climbed into his lap, sitting sideways with her legs up and her arms around his neck. Her head automatically went to what was becoming her favorite spot on his shoulder.

“This mine?” He plucked at her sleeve that had slipped down to expose her shoulder.

“It was in the closet, so I hope so. I’d be embarrassed if Farah came out and found me all cozy and warm in one of Samuel’s sweatshirts.”

His chuckle dissipated into the quiet night surrounding them. They listened to the muted hum of the pool filter for a few minutes until Dale’s thoughts forced her to speak.

“Would you do me a favor?”

He caressed her thigh and put his cigar on the lip of an ashtray that sat on the table next to them. “If I can.”

“Will you let the subject of my brother go?” Earlier, when he’d asked about that dark time in her past, she’d thought she might later regret sharing. She didn’t. But that didn’t mean she wanted to go into details he didn’t need to know.

“Would you do me a favor?”

Unease came over her. Because she could already feel herself wanting to nod and give him an, “Of course, anything you’d like, O’Master.”

She rolled her eyes and mimicked him. “If I can.” Hers hadn’t come out quite as gracious sounding as his had.

“Will you tell me about him so I don’t have to continue wondering? I’m not sure which is more frustrating, your refusal to give up information or the line I’ve drawn for myself in the sand.”

She sat up to look at him. “What line?”

“The one that prevents me from having my people dig into your past. I could have every detail of your life at my fingertips in the next twenty-four hours. But I’ve somehow convinced myself I’d rather wait to hear about you from you.”

She sighed and brought their foreheads together. “I should change your name from Mr. Murdery to Mr. Manipulator.”

He dabbled around her collarbones with his fingertips. “I honestly didn’t try to manipulate you that time.”

That time. She chuckled and was gearing up to tell him to drop the subject once and for all when something struck her. She was kind of laughing, her face curved into a smile, but it wasn’t real. She wasn’t feeling amused. And she knew if she looked into a mirror right then, the expression on her face would have reminded her of her mother. Or, more specifically, the hollow smile that had forever been on Lorraine’s face.

Knowing she was wearing it, Dale dropped it immediately, but not before she realized just how hard she was trying to remain beyond Lukas’s reach. Which, again, made her…her mother.

And Lukas…was her.

Since the moment they’d met, he’d been trying his best to connect with her on a level that wasn’t surface and meaningless. She’d held him off. Efficiently and callously shutting him out time and time again. And, as she’d done with her mom, he just continued to try. While she, like Lorraine, remained aloof and unreachable.

Was that who she wanted to be? Did he deserve a wife like that? What would that do to his generous, affectionate nature after a few years?

No. She screwed up her face. No. She couldn’t do that to him.

She…didn’t want to do that to him.

Which meant she had to do something for him. For this man who was making her every dream come true. He was giving her the babies she’d always wanted. Twice as many to love as the two she’d have been able to afford on her own. She was living a life of luxury, wanting for nothing. For that, as well as the deeper, more meaningful things he was doing for her, she owed him a lot more than a story about something that had happened almost eight years ago.

She slowly laid her head down again and inched open the vault holding her memories. When the thorny vines whipped out and clamped around her heart, she didn’t fight the pain. She breathed through it, taking in Lukas’s familiar scent. He was so stable and warm against her, and she concentrated on that until her jaw unlocked, and she started talking.

“His name was Noah.”

She had to stop when a scalding wave of grief crashed over her, nearly washing her right out of his arms. She hadn’t said her brother’s name since the day he’d died. What the fuck was she doing?

Lukas’s arms tightened around her, his mouth coming down to settle in her hair. “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

That…helped, and she was able to blink the tears from her eyes. Her throat opened again, and she continued. “He was three years older than me, and I didn’t know it at the time, was too young to recognize it, but he suffered from depression. He was always surrounded by darkness. It was in his eyes. His voice.” It had been a constant shadow in and around their home. “In my freshman year of high school—he was a senior—I went to class one day. It was a Friday, and he had a spare first period. Lunchtime came and went, and we always met at the bike rack and would walk down to the corner to grab a sandwich at the deli. He worked there on Saturdays and during the summers, and the owner liked him so he’d let us eat for free.”

She stared at the calm surface of the pool. The water should be choppy and crashing over the sides considering the turbulence tearing through her just then.

“I came home at three o’clock, mad because he’d skipped the whole day without letting me join him. I went straight to the basement and threw open his bedroom door.”

She couldn’t stay still and pulled out of Lukas’s embrace to stand with her back to him. She was shaking as she crossed her arms, squeezing her hands into fists as she remembered.

“He just stared at me. He didn’t greet me. Didn’t smile. Didn’t do anything. Not even when I screamed.” She wiped at her chin when she felt her tears drip off. “He just stared without seeing me because he’d hung himself before lunch. Or that’s what the coroner told my dad a couple of days later.”

The feeling of Lukas’s hands coming to rest on her shoulders had a strange effect on her. Rather than shake them off and run, she turned and burrowed into his chest. His arms banded around her and she appreciated it because that’s what held her together as she went on.

“I’ve tried not to feel responsible or guilty about his suicide because when he was alive, I did everything I could think of to draw him out. But I could never reach him, and since it happened, I’ve just felt…nothing, really, because I stopped. I don’t care about people, which means I don’t feel for them, and that protects me from being hurt. But I’ve wondered about things. You know? Like, was he thinking only of himself that day? Or did he think about who he was leaving behind? Was he sad to be leaving me? Did he know I would cry for months? Every time I went into the bathroom at school where I used to text him, I cried. When I found myself alone in our kitchen where he’d spent so much of his time eating, I cried. When I went into our backyard and saw our bikes, I cried. When I walked by his bedroom, I would open his door and stand there, not knowing what else to do because he should have been there. When I went back to school, I walked alone…with the wind for company when it used to be him. Did he know I would miss him for the rest of my life? Why didn’t he care enough to get some help? Or did he? I know he must have tried talking to our fucking parents. Or maybe he didn’t, I don’t know. But if he did, and they failed him, it wouldn’t be a shocker. I’d like to ask, but if I knew for sure, I’d probably kill them.”

She clutched at her anchor’s lower back. “You know what the worst is? The anger. The anger I feel because he knew my parents wouldn’t bother him in his room. They liked when we stayed in the basement. Which meant he knew I’d find him. Why didn’t he care that he was leaving me with an image of ceiling tiles on the floor and him hanging there like that? Did he not know I would try to get him down? Did he not know, for the rest of my fucking life, I would remember how tight that motherfucking rope was?”

As she began to cry in earnest, she tried to apologize. “I’m sorry. I don’t m-mean to put these f-feelings on you.”

Lukas didn’t say anything but to shush her. He cupped the back of her head, kissed her temple, and held her against him as the inferno burned through her chest.

A long time passed, and when she finally quieted, he stripped them both and brought her into the cooling water of the pool. She was so exhausted, she didn’t even protest but to say, “Your people.”

“Are used to Samuel and Farah. They know enough to stay away when they hear the pool being used in the middle of the night. Hold your breath.”

She took half a breath and closed her eyes. He gently dunked her to wash her ravaged face, then turned her around so she basically floated on top of him as he bobbed in the refreshing water.

As the minutes passed, she began to feel lighter and lighter. But it wasn’t because, for the first time since her brother’s suicide, she’d unloaded all she’d kept inside. It was because the man behind her was holding her up. Supporting her. Sharing his strength in an unassuming way she couldn’t help but appreciate…and accept.

***

Lukas held Dale, feeling her skin against his, her breath feathering over his shoulder because she’d turned her head to the side.

Suicide.

Jesus Christ.

“Something else that’s non-negotiable in this relationship,” he murmured. “You’re never again to apologize for sharing your grief with me.”

As she nodded, she sent her hands under the water to stroke his hips and thighs. “I just know how overwhelming other people’s emotions can be, and I hate the idea of making you feel the way others have made me feel.”

Empathy was definitely a burden on her. “You’re affected by others’ feelings more than the average person.”

She nodded again, her touch on his thighs becoming even more gentle. Almost reverent. “Their energy—their emotional energy—comes at me in…waves. I try to block it so that only ebbs and trickles touch me because it can be overwhelming. Yours I don’t feel the need to protect myself against. When you’re sad, I’m sadder. When you get angry, my heart races and I feel my blood pressure rise because I get angry right along with you. When you’re feeling passionate, I’m bombarded. It’s like a tidal wave sweeps over me and pulls me under so that my desire becomes ten times what it was and, yeah, that’s how I lose my mind when we’re in bed.”

Well, fuck. That was interesting. His cock certainly thought so, because it solidified between her ass cheeks. “Ignore that. It was bound to happen.”

Disobeying him, she turned in his arms and wrapped her legs around him, trapping his length against her pussy. She rubbed her breasts on his chest as he looked into her face. Her guard was down completely, and the natural way she smiled at him proved it. She wasn’t hiding from him anymore. He’d finally gotten through her defenses.

“I can’t express to you how sorry I am for the loss you suffered, Magdalena.” Now that he knew her past, he understood why she was afraid to let anyone close. How did one trust when the people in their lives consistently let them down? Or turned their backs on them altogether?

Her eyes fluttered closed because she’d caught him with her feet and impaled herself on his length. “Thank you, Lukas,” she whispered as she worked him in and out of her with slow, leisurely rolls of her hips.

As she pressed tender kisses around his mouth, he kicked them to the shallow end so he could put his feet down.

“I remember so many people telling me they were sorry, but it means something to me when you say it.”

Because she could hear the love he felt for her in his words? “Why?”

She skimmed her lips across his jaw. “Because I know how loyal and committed you are to those you love. It’s pretty beautiful to watch you with your dad and brother. And even Farah, though you’re more careful with her. Your devotion to them means you know what I lost.” She kissed him, making the tangle of their tongues as slow and erotic as how she was working his cock with her hot sheath. “In a selfish way, your loyalty also means our children will prevent you from ever leaving my life completely, and…I, well…since we’re getting married Sunday and all…” She hid her face in his neck and finished almost too quickly for him to understand. “YoushouldknowI’mcomingtoappreciatethat.”

With a surge that splashed water around them, Lukas got them to the stairs. He laid her out and took over, loving her harder and quicker as her long hair snaked around them in the water. He didn’t look at her wet breasts or beaded nipples but held her eyes, growing addicted to the new clarity in their depths as he watched her climb to the pinnacle. Just as she went over the edge, he gave her the only response he could to her incredibly brave revelation.

“I love you, too, Magdalena,” he whispered too quietly for her to hear over the pounding of his hips. He knew she still wasn’t ready for that yet, but she was close. Goddamn, was she close.

***

Through the mind-bending pleasure that was as comforting as it was chaotic, Dale was so in tuned to Lukas she felt what he wouldn’t say. He communicated it in the way he touched her with such possession. With such reverence. It came to her on the air. And was reflected in his eyes. She’d even heard it in his voice when he’d offered his condolences.

He loved her.

Honestly and single-mindedly.

Rather than refute it or doubt it was possible in so short a time, Dale finally accepted it. She no longer had a choice. It was possible. Now she knew first hand, didn’t she.

Holding him close as he brought his heavy body down on top of her, she wrapped him up and felt every point of contact as he shuddered through his release. The power behind it had him growling into her ear, and that, too, she savored.

Mr. Murdery. Her passionate, romantic mobster.

How could she have thought she would live any sort of life without him?