“It’s a busy day at the office for me. I need to print a lot of papers.” He wipes his hands over his face while saying it, making his abs and biceps flex distractingly.
Is printing papers another way of saying killing people? Or is he just saying that without the double meaning? I don’t know what is wrong with me. I keep letting myself forget what he actually does for a living.
“Please don’t print a lot of papers today. Can’t you just sit at the computer all day or something?”
He drops his hands and looks over at me with a frown. “No. I have a huge list of names I need to print, and my father wants it done today.”
“Nope, stop. Lalalala.” I cover my ears and walk toward the bathroom.
He follows me with his arms crossed, watching me brush my teeth.
“It bothers you.”
I scoff and pull the toothbrush out. “What, your office job? Yes, it bothers me.”
I shove the toothbrush back in and keep brushing aggressively.
“I was born into this.”
I sigh and spit into the sink. “I know, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about knowing what you do. I hate we can’t even be seen in public together. I was so confused when you basically claimed me in front of my colleague because you’re the one who said we can’t do things like that.”
He rubs at his jaw. “This is what I do, Kelly. I kill people. I’m good at it, and I’m not stopping.” He steps closer. “I’ll tell you I’m printing papers and filing reports, but we both know what I’m really doing. We can pretend all you want.” He takes another step closer. “And about yesterday? My family has rules about everything. Who I can want. Who I can touch. I’ve broken every single one for you. You’re the exception to all of it.”
“You’re giving up everything, and I’m terrified I won’t be worth it.” My voice breaks despite trying to keep it steady.
He takes two fast steps toward me. I flinch and jump back on instinct. Not because I think he’ll hurt me—I know he won’t—but because my body learned this response a long time ago. David drilled it into me, and I hate that it’s still there.
He stops short, frowning. “You’re scared of me?”
I sigh. “No.”
“Kelly.”
“Just hug me,” I say, wrapping my arms around him first, pulling him against me. His hands hesitate at my back for a moment, then he locks his arms around me.
“Did something happen to you?” he whispers into my hair.
The shame hits hard and fast, cuts right through my chest. I can’t go there. I don’t want to tell him, don’t even want to say it out loud because then it’s real again, and I’ve worked so hard to shove it down.
I feel pathetic for letting it happen even though I know I shouldn’t, know it wasn’t my fault. But that doesn’t stop the voice in my head that sounds exactly like David telling me I asked for it. That I’m weak. That normal people don’t let themselves get treated like that.
If I tell Alexei what really happened, he’s going to see it too. He’s going to realize I’m the type of person who gets walked on and keeps coming back. He’s going to figure out that I’m already broken, and maybe that’s not what he wants.
I hate feeling this small, weak, and pathetic.
I don’t want him to look at me like I’m some damaged thing he has to be careful with. I don’t want him to know that part of me still thinks maybe I had it coming.
“No. I’m just tired.”
He pulls me in tighter, his voice still low but firmer now. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. Give me a name, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
I freeze for a second.
I shake my head and look at him. “It’s not like that. Nothing happened, okay?”
I hear him breathe out slowly and nod into my hair before he grips me tighter and kisses the top of my head.
We’re both so fucked up by the people who were supposed to teach us how to be loved. He grew up thinking this was shameful, dangerous, something to hide. His whole familyprobably thinks the same way. But he keeps choosing me anyway, keeps coming back, keeps letting himself want this even when it scares him.
