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“No,” he answers simply. “But it’s all we can do. Telling them I shot their son in the head for jerking his dick over the sight of you orgasming won’t help them. It won’t bring him back or offer them peace of mind. Letting them know he’s gone and offering them enough money so that they can retire comfortably, is more than he did for them. He stole from them and then went AWOL rather than going back to his unit in Afghanistan. I can’t say if he was a good man or not, I didn’t know him. I think I spoke to him maybe twice in the time since he came into our employment. But I won’t apologize for protecting you. I won’t apologize for coveting you, for shielding you and for putting our family’s needs and care above anyone else’s.”
As callous as his words are, I get it. And he’s right, it’s not wrong for him to want to protect me and us, because despite all the fucked-up obstacles between us, I know this man would do anything to keep me safe.
“Why don’t I hate you anymore?” I ask him almost desperately.
“Because you love me, almost as much as I love you.” His tone is hopeful.
“I don’t love you. I barely know you. But I should hate you and I yet I don’t. I don’t hate any of you. Not even Vik and he totally tricked me with that ginger bullshit.”
His chest vibrates beneath me as he chuckles softly. “I had no idea of the effect it would have, to be honest. But it was a sight to behold, watching him discipline you. I didn’t think it was something that would affect me, but I admit I enjoyed watching.”
“Next time he tries to shove ginger in my ass, I’m going to do the same to all of you.”
“Malishka, your ass is free game, mine is forbidden territory.”
“Seriously, Dimitri, help me understand. Because at the minute I’m not sure if I’m losing my mind, if you’ve drugged me to make me compliant, or if I’m drowning in Stockholm syndrome and the trauma is making you all not seem as bad as you actually are.”
“I can assure you, you’re not currently under the effect of any drugs. As to the other options, I don’t believe you’re losing your mind, although if you feel you need it, I can arrange for a therapist to work with you.”
“Why would you even suggest that?” I snap, turning as much as I can in the tub to face him. “How would I even start to explain our situation to a therapist? Oh, Doctor, I’m worried I’m going crazy, because I happily spread my legs for the three men who kidnapped me and I miss them when I get a rare moment to spend on my own,” I blurt sarcastically.
“You missed us? When? Today?” His eyes soften and he brushes his thumb over my jaw. “Vik offered to come nap with you, we would all have come if we’d known you wanted us there.”
“I didn’t want you there. I wanted space, but then…” I trail off, struggling to admit that I’d been lonely and a little lost when they actually allowed me the space I’d desperately needed.
“Space allows you to retreat inside of your head, instead of living in the moment with us. No more space, at least not until you truly don’t hate us.”
“I need to hate you,” I protest.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve taken everything from me.” Tears fill my eyes and I curse my overactive emotions. A year on the streets, barely surviving, and I never broke. Less than a week with these men and I’m a walking hormone, crying at the drop of a hat.
“We took your shitty job and your shitty apartment, with your shitty roommate. We took your shitty clothes and shitty cell phone. But we gave you a family, a real home. We gave you freedom and adventure and safety. You’re right, we did take everything from you, but we’ve replaced it with a thousand times more than you had, and I’m not talking about the clothes or the luxury, I’m talking about the real stuff. We gave you loyalty, love, us.”
Exhaling slowly, I try to control my emotions. “I hate you,” I choke, turning completely and pressing my lips against his.
“I love you too,” he says against my mouth, burying his fingers in my hair and taking control of the kiss.
We make out like teenagers until the water starts to cool and Dimi insists we get out and wash in the shower. He uses a washcloth to clean my skin, then washes and conditions my hair, taking care of me, just like I was craving before he joined me in the bath.
“Thank you,” I whisper when he turns off the water and holds a towel out to me.
“For what, Malishka?”
“For taking care of me.”
“Always,” he says simply.
“Is that another rule?” I laugh.
“Do you want it to be one?”
“Yes,” I confess, staring down at the chipped nail polish on my toes.
“Then it’s a rule.”
Lev is waiting for us when we step back into the bedroom, clothes laid out on the bed beside him. “Come here, Honey,” he orders softly.
