Page 43 of The Billionaire's Vow

Dimitri focused on chopping the garlic and onions, the rhythmic motion grounding him.Slowly, the scents of cooking filled the kitchen, rich and sharp, but it didn’t distract him from the conversation.“Your father… I’d assume he’s an alcoholic too.”He scraped the ingredients into a large pot, listening closely to the sizzle to make sure the temperature was correct.

He stirred the garlic and onions, watching her out of the corner of his eye.“And you’re afraid you’ve inherited an addictive personality?”

She let out a slow breath, raking a hand through her hair.“Yeah.”The exhaustion in her voice made his gut tighten.“My mother’s an addict too.And my brother.But his issue is more visible, which is probably why my parents refuse to see their own demons.”

Dimitri set the wooden spoon down, turning to lean against the counter.“What’s your brother’s addiction?”

“Oxy,” she admitted, then groaned softly, rubbing her temples.“And yet, when he’s not high, Craig is a lot of fun.He’s funny and smart, loves to do things, and…” Her voice caught, and she sighed heavily.“He’s… well, my big brother.”

Dimitri folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter.“Are you sure he didn’t go through your apartment last night looking for money?”

“No,” she said immediately, shaking her head.Then she hesitated for half a second before shrugging slightly.“I can tell when my brother lies.He hasn’t realized he has a ‘tell’ when he lies to me.”

His brows lifted slightly.“What’s his tell?”

“He rubs his chin.”She rolled her eyes, exasperation clear on her face.“I think he considers it an affectation, like he’s seriously considering his answer.But every time he does it, I know he’s lying.”

Dimitri tilted his head, intrigued.“Interesting.And he didn’t rub his chin last night?”

“Nope.”Her confidence wavered before her expression changed.Her eyes widened slightly, as if some thought had just struck her.She went completely still, then spun around on her stool and rushed to her purse.

Dimitri watched as she dug through the bag with growing urgency.Her fingers moved quickly, brushing aside receipts and keys, before she finally fished out her wallet.A second later, she bowed her head, her shoulders tensing before she turned back around.

“He robbed me.”Her voice was flat, but Dimitri saw the way her hands tightened around the wallet.She let out a bitter laugh.“That bastard stole my last ten bucks this morning before he left my apartment.”

Dimitri put down the knife immediately and went to her.He didn’t think—he just reacted.His hands settled on her arms, then slid around her back, pulling her close.

“I’m so sorry, Giselle,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual.

She sniffed but didn’t cry, though he could feel her shaking.“He was so sweet last night.He sat with me, ate dinner with me, helped clean up the mess…” Her hands tightened into fists against his chest.“He wasn’t there to help me.He’d just come to steal from me.”She pressed her face against him, her breath warm through his shirt.“That utter bastard.”

Dimitri’s jaw tightened, rage curling in his gut.Right then and there, he vowed to find Craig and teach him a lesson.He wouldn’t have the guy beaten—Giselle clearly loved him, no matter what he did—but that didn’t mean Dimitri wouldn’t make damn sure he understood exactly what would happen if he ever stole from her again.

His arms tightened around her, his hands rubbing her back in slow, soothing motions.He tried to absorb some of her pain, to take the weight from her shoulders.It probably wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t let go.Holding her soothed something in him, too, though he doubted she realized it.

After a long moment, she pulled back and wiped her eyes, forcing a small smile.“I’m okay.But… thank you for the hug.It was… nice.”

Dimitri didn’t like that word.Nice.He wasn’t nice.He didn’t want her thinking of him that way.But if she found comfort in his touch, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Grumbling under his breath, he nudged her back toward the stool.“Sit down,” he ordered.Then he turned back to the stove, stirring the onions and garlic with a little more force than necessary.“So, your dad is an alcoholic.Your brother is a narcotics addict.What about your mom?”

Giselle swirled the water in her glass, choosing her words carefully.“Oh, her issue is a little more subtle.”She sighed.“She loves to shop.She stayed at home, taking care of me and Craig while we were in school.She’s never worked outside of the home.”She paused, tilting her head slightly.“No, that’s not true.She worked when I was in elementary school.But by the time I reached middle school, she’d convinced my dad that she deserved to be a stay-at-home mother.And my dad gave in because he just wanted peace while he drank and watched sports on television.”

Dimitri arched an eyebrow as he stirred the simmering sauce.“So, your mother has a shopping addiction.”

Giselle blinked, startled by the blunt assessment.Her grip on the glass loosened slightly before she slowly set it down on the counter, staring at him.“Yes.Yes!”A stunned laugh bubbled out of her.“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but yes.My mother is addicted to shopping.She goes out every day and buys whatever strikes her fancy.”She shook her head, still absorbing the revelation.“Wow.I hadn’t really connected it before, but now that you say it like that, it makes so much sense.I’m sure my mom gets the same rush—or something similar—that my dad and brother get when they drink or use drugs.”

“Makes sense why you don’t want to risk an addiction,” Dimitri agreed as he poured a can of tomatoes into the pot, then adjusted the heat.The scent of sautéed onions and garlic thickened in the air, making the space feel even warmer, more intimate.

Giselle folded her arms, watching him.“What were you like growing up?”

He didn’t look at her as he stirred.“Why?”

She shrugged.“I don’t know.I’m curious.”

Dimitri reluctantly met her gaze.“You want to analyze my childhood?”

She smirked, leaning forward on the counter.“What?Are you afraid I’ll tell you you’re repressing something?”