The fight has gone out of her completely. It's such a surreal feeling to know she's given up. I've never seen her like this. I sit down on the couch and put my hand on her back. "We knew this was a possibility, right?" I've tried to explain this to her, but I suppose she's like me and she has to learn the hard way on her own.
Tatiana doesn't move when I begin stroking her back softly, but I feel her breathe a deep, heavy breath. Seeing her like this makes my chest twist uncomfortably. It's moments like this that only prove my brother's point. I'm going soft and my feelings for her are starting to affect my judgment. I hate seeing her hurting, and normally, I'm a cold, ruthless bastard.
"I just wanted to go home and get away from this."
"By running straight into danger?" I pull the blanket down so I can see her face properly. "I warned you about these men. They'll kill you and never bat an eyelash. They don't know what guilt feels like."
"What was I supposed to do?" Her eyes shift and she looks up at me, and her voice starts to sound a little less hollow now. "Just hide and hope this goes away?" I can tell she’s been crying when I meet her gaze. Her eyes are puffy, nose red.
"I know you're angry, but?—"
"You can't protect my cousin." She sits up and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. "You can't protect my mother in Ukraine. You can't be everywhere at once."
"No," I snip, "but I can send people." I stand up and walk over to the bar to pour myself a drink. I don’t want to lash out at her, but I can feel the stress of my day starting to weasel its way in. "I can have your cousin watched and I can send guards to your mother's house."Won't Yuri love that?I sigh and shake my head as I find the bottle of Scotch Terrier and crack it open, pouring two fingers into the tumbler.
"You'd do that?" Tatiana sounds surprised by my offer, though realistically, I'd like to think we can end this without the need for that shit. But I'll do what it takes to keep her in one place and safe.
"If it keeps you from trying to run again, yes." I down the whiskey and pour another. "But I need something from you in return."
Before she can respond, the doorbell rings. I'm not expecting anyone, and a visitor at this hour can only mean one thing. My brother. So I set my glass down and walk to the door expectingYuri or one of the guys. Instead there's a delivery guy holding a pizza box.
"Someone here ordered this?" He looks at a receipt. "Penthouse?" His eyes shift nervously to Gleb, who scowls at him. I ordered no one on or off this floor, including pizza guys, and these idiots can't seem to follow orders. It's not a good look for them, especially if my brother finds out.
I turn around and see Tatiana standing behind me looking sheepish. "I was hungry," she mumbles, and I scowl at her.
"How much?" I grumble, reaching for my wallet. It's better that I'm here for this, anyway. Had it been some sort of an attack, Gleb would be dead by now and likely, Tatiana as well.
I pay the delivery guy and take the pizza into the kitchen. Tatiana follows and climbs onto one of the bar stools while I grab plates from the cabinet. The smell of cheese and pepperoni fills the penthouse, and my stomach reminds me I haven't eaten since this morning.
"I didn't know when you'd be back." She takes a slice when I push the box toward her. "And I don't like cooking." It's news that she doesn't like cooking after several days of her cooking my meals for me. The irony isn't lost on me that she'll work for someone else and be paid to do it, but she likely eats takeout a lot on her own. I'm learning more about her every day.
"Fair enough," I tell her, taking my own slice and leaning against the counter across from her. "Tell me about your cousin."
She chews slowly and swallows before answering. "His name is Arseniy. We grew up together in the Ukraine before my family moved here. He stayed in Russia for work, but we don't talk much anymore."
"How did the Kozlovs find him?" I already know the answer, but I want to hear her version.
"I don't know." She sets down her slice of pizza. "He said they just showed up at his apartment and beat him unconscious. When he woke up in the hospital, they'd left him a message to pass to me." I can see it's got her rattled, probably so much that she hasn’t noticed the blood on my shirt sleeves yet, which is a good thing. She'd just freak out more.
"What message?" I take another bite and enjoy the savory flavors while she recounts what her cousin said to her. And if he can be trusted, Malcom isn’t fucking around—threatening to hurt or kill her family and backing it up with an assault is just like him. "They're trying to scare you into making a mistake." I finish my slice and reach for another. "They want you panicked and desperate so you'll do something stupid."
"Like trying to run?" When she looks up at me with one eyebrow high, I know she's starting to understand. "Everything I do will just make it worse."
"Exactly." I point at her with my pizza. "So you're going to stay here where I can keep you safe. And I'm going to send people to watch your cousin and your mother."
"Thank you," she says quietly, as if she hasn't already done enough. "I know I haven't made this easy for you." She has no need to feel guilty or remorseful about any of this. I am the one who entangled myself in this mess on purpose.
"No, you haven't." I wipe my hands on a napkin. "You're lucky I have patience."
"Are you patient?" She studies my face as I smile at her in jest, but as she continues, I feel chastised. "Because it doesn't seem like it sometimes."
"With you, I'm learning to be." I lean forward and let some of the tension out of my shoulders. Tatiana is a handful, but you don't get the strength of the ox unless you muck the stalls, right? Every good quality is mirrored in a bad one, but I want to only look at the good ones from now on.
"What do you want from me?" She sets her pizza down and crosses her arms. "You said you need something in return for protecting my family. What is it?"
"I want you in my bed," I tell her frankly, because it's what I want. I'm done mincing words. I don't want to have to pressure her or manipulate her. I want something organic and raw, and I want it because she wants it. "Willingly—not because I'm forcing you or because you're drunk or because you're too scared to say no. I want you to act like you actually want to be there."
Her cheeks flush and she looks away. "You can't just demand that."
