Gennadiy’s eyes went wide with horror. Then he shook his head fiercely.
“It might help, even though it’s been a long time. What did he say when it happened?” I asked.
Gennadiy looked away.
I frowned. “You didn’t talk about it?” Then, with dawning horror, “You’venevertalked about it?!”
Gennadiy scowled. “We don’t talk about things like that.”
I wasn’t sure if he meantmenorRussians,orBratva.Probably all three. “Gennadiy…” I took his face between my hands. “Listen to me. You have to.” He tried to look away, but I wouldn’t let him. “This has been eating you up since you were a teenager, and probably eating him up, too!”
He tore out of my hands and marched away across the room. I watched his muscled back rise and fall as he fumed. He shook his head, trying to deny it. Eventually, he turned back to me. “I never thought I’d trust a cop,” he muttered. “But I trust you.” He rubbed at his stubble. “This is really what I need to do?”
“Yes,” I said firmly.
He blew out a long breath. And nodded. Then he came back to the bed and pulled me into his arms. We were both exhausted, and as soon as he lay back on the bed and his chest became my pillow, I felt sleep descending like a blanket made of lead. As we drifted off, he stroked my hair. I glanced up at him, and I could see him frowning, thinking.
I hadn’t freed him of the guilt, not yet. But for the first time, he had a plan.
56
ALISON
I woketo daylight and a space in the bed where Gennadiy should have been. For a second, I panicked. Then I saw the note on the pillow.
Wait here. I will return with breakfast.
G.
I grabbed a quick shower and then climbed back into the bed naked. I felt comically small in the immense four-poster but it was divinely comfortable, with my back against a wall of thick pillows I figured were probably goose down and my bare feet unable to stop stroking the decadently smooth sheets.
The door swung wide and Gennadiy entered, in just a pair of boxers and carrying a tray. There were plates heaped high with waffles and three sorts of fresh berries, and individual jugs of maple syrup. There was a pot of coffee, cups and saucers, sugar and milk and cream, cutlery and napkins held by silver napkin rings.I had an image of Gennadiy asking the chef if he could do breakfast in bed,and the chef taking it as a challenge. “What is all this?” I asked, as Gennadiy set the tray down on the bed.
“You drowned,” he said seriously. “You deserve a little luxury.” He sat down on the bed and poured me a cup of coffee, then added two lumps of sugar.
I stared at him. “How did you know?—”
“You forget, all the time you were watchingme,I was watchingyou.Do you know how many times I’ve watched you sitting outside my house drinking takeout coffee?” He passed me the cup. “And... this is thank you. For last night.”
I sipped and nodded.You’re welcome.
“And…” He looked at me thoughtfully. “Our first time was up against the wall, in the rain. A woman like you deserves to be fucked in a proper bed on Egyptian cotton sheets.”
I narrowly avoided spitting coffee all over those Egyptian cotton sheets, which made him grin. My heart fuckingtook off,seeing him so light and happy. I knew I hadn’t fixed things, not yet. But I was getting a glimpse of how things could be if he did manage to let go of the anger, and it was glorious. I reached for one of the plates of waffles.
“No no,” he told me. And poured maple syrup over it, then cut off a perfect, bite-sized chunk of waffle and berries and…
“Oh, no, you don’t have to—mmf.”
He wagged the fork at me knowledgeably. “A wise woman once told me: we all need someone to tell us to stop, once in a while.”
I swallowed. “I don’t recall anything in there about being hand-fed.”
“She was wise, not perfect.”
I snaked my hand down and tickled his side. He jerked, wide-eyed, like no one had ever tickled him before. “Martial arts,” I teased. “I know all the sensitive spots.”
He captured my wrist in his hand and pinned it to the bed. Then he captured my other wrist and used one big hand to hold them safely in my lap. “Be a good girl,” he warned. “And eat your breakfast.”
