Page 9 of Conceal

"She pulled me aside and ripped me a new one, right before she burst into tears," he grumbles miserably. Ah. So he feels bad but doesn't know what to do to fix it.

"Did you apologize?"

My gaze is dragged to the duo as they jump over an oxer and turn to aim at the next one. I can hear her counting under her breath in rhythm with Juliet's footfalls, counting his strides between jumps.

His silence is telling. Lev, too, could have her if he'd let go of his anger and need to push and prod and bleed for her. If he showed her an ounce of the man behind the mask, she'd fall for him. He's loyal, deeply protective, caring and thoughtful, beneath his snarling, snorting exterior. I'm convinced he pushes her to keep her away because he knows what she could do to him if he let her in.

His excuse about dying before forty is bullshit, and we all know it. But it keeps him safe.

"Have you tried, oh, I don't know, having a conversation with the girl?"

"We talk all the time!"

"You tease all the time. I don't think you've had a single, actual conversation with her before," I reply.

He doesn't answer me, but the tension he was carrying earlier has faded. It's up to him if he wants to apologize or make things better with her. I'm not his father.

A half hour goes by where we watch her and Christ, she's brilliant.

She and Juliet are completely in sync, moving together as one, and it stokes the fire in my chest. Her shoulders are back, her spine straight, her hands move with the reins, becoming a single, flawless way of communication. And I can appreciate her skill, until my eyes drop to her waist and hips and the way she grips the saddle with her thighs. I can't help but wish I could feel her grip me there, roll her hips over mine, rest her hands on my chest as she rides me.

I clear my throat.

Shit.

I don't always think dirty thoughts when I watch her ride. She rides at least three times a week. But it's been years since I've gotten laid. When I first got placed in her service, I'd get laid as often as I could to distract me from how tempting I found my best friend's daughter. Dimitri trusted me with his only daughter, knowing I would never betray our friendship. He told me his daughter was stubborn, vain, spoiled, reckless, dramatic, and precious to him.

Over the years, though, I've started to wonder how precious she could be. They lived in the same house before college but had dinner together less than a handful of times a month.

I've never questioned him out loud, though. It's not my place. It's my job to protect her, watch out for her. While I wouldn't have made a scene like Lev did today, I also wouldn't have been able to hear people gossiping about her behind her back and stay silent. My solution just would have been quieter and more thought out. Like hacking their phones, or cornering them in a dark bar. Or threatening their families.

She pulls Juliet into a trot and loosens the reins so she's only holding on with one hand. Her other hand wrestles with a strand of hair that got loose from her braid, tucking it into her helmet.

She'll do two laps in an easy trot, before ten at a walk to ensure he's fully cooled off before she'll untack him, hose him off, feed him dinner and turn him out into his paddock.

The farm is small, privately owned by a retired eventer, and Tatiana has rented out the entire facility, so it's only Juliet and Fran's donkey to keep the warmblood company.

Suddenly, she looks down and pulls her phone out from a small pocket in her britches. Her happy, easy demeanor from a second ago vanishes.

"Blyat," she whispers, and I'm at the arena side in three steps, ready to protect her.

She looks up at Mikhail, who has stopped recording, to me and then Lev, before her jaw tightens and she clicks decline and shoves it back into her pocket.

She only does five laps with Juliet, so I know something's wrong.

She dismounts effortlessly, landing lightly on her feet before pulling the reins over his head and walking him into the barn. We three go to follow, like we always do, but she stops.

"Can... uh... can I have some privacy? It's my mom..."

Shit. I hate the insecurity in her voice. But that's the one thing I can't protect her from. Her stupid mother. God, I loathe the woman. Drunk or high off her face the majority of the time. How someone so beautiful inside and out can come from a woman like that, I'll never know. Irina is ugliness personified. I swear she's jealous of Tati's beauty and innocence. If she's not drunk or high, she's arranging her daughter's dating life; I'm sure to get rid of her as quickly as possible. Irina's a spiteful, jealous, manipulative, nasty woman.

Where Tatiana takes care of herself and her skin and presents herself the best, most beautiful way she can to the world, Irina seems like she must hate herself to make herself beautiful. So much Botox she can't make facial expressions anymore, a face lift that makes her look like the witch from Emperor's New Groove, and her dark hair is so bleached it's brittle and frail.

I think she could have been beautiful if she'd loved herself.

I won't even mention the number of times she's come onto me. I'm closer to her age than Dimitri, but I still find her and her behavior as a woman disgusting. I understand being miserable in a relationship, but the answer to that isn't to cheat; it's to do something about it. I have a sneaky suspicion that she wants to cheat and get caught, so her husband finally pays attention to her. But their marriage issues are none of my business.

Tatiana's my business. My friend's daughter is my business. My friend's daughter's safety is my business.