The sound of her voice has me running the rest of the way, barely getting her into our bathroom and setting her down before her head is in the toilet and she’s bringing everything and then some back up. I quickly grab her hair, pulling it out of the way and fisting it gently. She cries and vomits, and I feel like an absolute dick for not taking better care of her.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, rubbing her back and wishing I could take it from her.
“It’s my fault,” she groans. “God, this is so embarrassing.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,zolotse. It doesn’t faze me, and believe me when I say I’ve seen way worse.”
When she’s finally empty, I get a wet washcloth and clean her up before sitting her on the counter. I get her toothbrush ready and hand it to her, keeping a close eye on her as she brushes her teeth. She’s pale but looks a lot better than she did a few minutes ago. Her cheeks are tear-stained and she looks like she’s going to start crying again any second. When she’s finished brushing, I cup her face and kiss her forehead.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“I’m never drinking again,” she whispers, “or eating hot dogs.”
I smile and pick her up again. “Ruslan will be very sorry to hear that.”
“You saw that?”
“I miss very little,zolotse.”
“It’s hard to deny that cute face of his anything.”
“It is,” I admit, “and he knows it.”
I sit her on the edge of the bed and walk to the closet, eyeing the small amount of clothes she has. When I don’t find any pajamas, I grab a pair of flannel pajama bottoms that will be huge on her. She’s still swaying a bit, and when I help her to stand, she starts to protest when I try to get her out of her wet jeans.
“Nina, please trust me. I’m just helping you get into some pajamas. That’s it.”
She looks at me for a second and then gives me a very slow nod so she doesn’t make herself nauseous again. I unbutton her jeans and slowly pull them down, willing myself to be as clinical as possible. There’s no denying my attraction to her, but I know I need to keep that part of myself locked away for now. When the jeans are off, I can’t help but run my eyes over her as I help her into the pajama bottoms, quickly taking in the toned legs and brief glimpse of pink panties.
“I’m sorry they’re so big,” I say, tying the drawstring and rolling the cuffs up while making a point to completely ignore my quickly hardening cock.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, looking even smaller than usual in my large pants. She sits back on the edge of the bed. I can tell she’s not sober yet and still feeling pretty bad, but she’s more coherent than she was, even if she is barely keeping her eyes open. I’m still kneeling in front of her, and when she reaches out to run her fingers along the side of my face, I stay where I am, knowing she needs to be in charge of this.
“InAnna Karenina, she doesn’t get a happy ending, does she?”
Her dark eyes look so sad, and I hate to add to it, but I’m not going to lie to her. “No, she doesn’t, but you will,zolotse.”
She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Stroking my face once more, she sighs and starts to get into bed. I help her, tucking the covers up over her. I kiss her cheek and say, “I’m going to get you some water and aspirin. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” she whispers, curling into a tighter ball.
I rush downstairs, not wanting to leave her alone for longer than I have to. A quick glimpse out the window lets me know the others are still having a good time down on the beach, but I’m not worried. I know they’ll clean up and make sure Ruslan gets let in. I grab a bottle of water and the aspirin and head back upstairs. Before I can get there, my phone vibrates in my pocket. When I see who’s calling, I stop in the hallway and answer it.
“Colin, what’s up?” I ask, hoping it’s nothing important.
“I just heard about what happened at Ruby’s. What the fuck were you thinking, Vasily?”
“What the fuck was I thinking?” I growl, not in the mood for this bullshit right now. “I went there to find someone who owed me money, and instead I found a young woman who was being held there against her will and raped on a nightly basis.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a brothel. They’re prostitutes.”
“They’re not, Colin. They’re forced to be there.”
“Ruby says you barged in, threatened her and one of her employees, and then stole one of her girls, claiming you were going to marry her.”
“That’s about right,” I admit.
Colin groans and mutters “Fucking hell, man.”
