Page 44 of Pay the Piper

“No, you call me ‘Thatcher Prescott,’ which is still weird. I’ve told you not to full name me—”

“But it just rolls off the tongue.” Even as I tease Thatcher, I know I’m never going to win this battle. As soon as I started hitting the weight room with the guys and sitting in on team meetings, they noticed my propensity for sweets. After growling at the backup goalie, Pretzel, when his hand got too close to my bag of peach rings, I gained a reputation. Once they realized my initials are MM, well…Chocolate didn’t stick as a nickname, but after they shortened it, it stuck like glue.

“Just like yours does. Because you’re so sweet!” Thatcher follows me into the sauna, and I can’t help but laugh.

It’s been…hard lately, being back in Thunder Bay. Some of my favorite Taranov men are still here, working for Teddy, but I’m out of place these days. Sure, I’ve been by the compound to see everyone and to help out when asked, but the leadership doesn’t need me stepping on anyone’s toes. Just when we got a pretty good handle on our New York crew, I left them to come back down here, and I miss those guys too. Abby has been my bright spot, and now that the team’s really coming together for the season, with me included, the camaraderie I’ve been missing is back as well.

After a steam and shower, I dodge Thatcher’s questions about what I’m doing tonight and why I’m not coming to his pool party this weekend. Even if it wasn’t way too early to throw Abby into the deep end and explain to her what I do, I’m unwilling to share her. I don’t know when I’ll want to let her out of our bubble. Maybe never…

By the time I’m changed into my suit, hair dried and beard trimmed, it’s already time to go get my girl. Nervous isn’t the word for the anticipation I feel, but as I back the SUV I rarely drive out of the garage and head to pick her up, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel in an increasingly chaotic pattern. It’s been years since I’ve picked a woman up and taken her to dinner, and it’s never been with the hope that it’ll be the first of a lifetime of special occasions.

First real date, first vacation, first house, first baby…

The jolt of rightness that floods my body at the thought of that threatens to undo the steady composure I’ve maintained on the drive, and I make the last turn to Abby’s condo with slightly sweaty palms.

You’re a Bratva god with enough blood on your hands to stock a hospital for a year. You’ve supported yourself for your entire fucking life. Made something out of nothing. Kept your friend safe and avenged those who wronged her. And you’ve managed to make yourself nervous about taking her out to dinner because you can’t stop thinking about getting her pregnant…

She’s already waiting for me just outside the front door of her building as I pull up, and I’m glad to see it’s got a doorman and at least a couple of security guards on duty. My…persuasive efforts with the building’s owners and my sizable bribe clearly went a long way toward ensuring they raised their standards. Even though I keep one eye on her security cameras all the time, it’s nice to have layers and…Oh, sweetheart.

Her bag is beside her on the pavement, and it’s sizable. Not a little backpack or a carry-on, no. My woman has brought a full-blown checked bag. This must mean she’s ready to stay for a while. Hopefully, I can convince her to just move in.

When I park and round the hood to say hello and grab her bags, I get my first real glance at what she’s wearing. She looks gorgeous, as always, but…tonight must mean as much to her as it does to me.

Abby always glows, always, but standing before me in an emerald dress, fiery curls flowing down her back, she’s ethereal. More than I could have ever dreamed of. I don’t think she wears makeup at the rink, but she’s added just enough tonight to catch my attention. Shimmering eyes, glistening lips…it’s as if she’s glazed in sugar, and I’m dying for a taste. The idea that I might be underdressed and unworthy to be seen with her briefly crosses my mind, but she’s eyeing me as if she’s as desperate for me as I am for her.

“Hello, sweetheart,” I murmur, bending to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. Before I can, she turns, and I’m proven right as my lips capture hers. She tastes just as sweet as she looks tonight.

Her response is a breathy hello as I open her door and buckle her seat belt before loading her bags into the back. She’s quiet as I merge onto the freeway and slide my hand onto her thigh. Just above her knee, not in a sexual way…just something to satiate the possessiveness I feel. I can’t stand not touching her, and the last time I felt her warmth under my touch was when she was shaking with fear.

“You look…” I huff a laugh and squeeze her thigh, struggling to explain how it feels to have seen at least three shades of copper in her hair while fighting the urge to pull into a church parking lot so I can pray that our children inherit the same curls.

“I look…?” Abby’s flirty purr and the patterns she’s drawing on the back of my hands loosen me up a bit, and I might be able to get through tonight without going full dragon and flying her back to my nest.

“You look exquisite beyond mortal description, lesnaya. As if you exist specifically to lure me to do your bidding, even if it leads me to my own demise. I’m completely at your mercy.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, with the blush I crave blooming up her neck to her cheeks. “You look…”

Her pause is long enough to make me self-conscious. I’m wearing one of my usual suits, a Cifonelli tailored to my frame. Maybe it’s too plain, and I should have worn something other than black. Navy or…dark gray. My shirt is a pristine white, but maybe she thinks I should have worn a tie.

“Fucking hot!”

My bark of laughter sparks her own and dissolves any of the nervous anticipation that had remained between us, bringing us back to the joking push and pull that we’ve always had together. As I hand the keys to the valet and open her door, all that remains is joy at being in each other’s presence and the heady undercurrent of what might happen later tonight.

“I’m glad you approve. I was beginning to fear that I had gone too casual, and that you were in disbelief that you were on a date with a man without a tie.”

“I don’t think I could ever be disappointed by you,” she says with a grin as we walk into the restaurant, and I feel a pang of guilt. She doesn’t even know the truth about what I do or my past.

I hope I don’t ever give you a reason to be disappointed in me.

“No! Diet Coke and Coke Zero are not interchangeable, you monster. People with discerning palates can immediately tell.”

“And which side are you on?”

She’s had three glasses of Diet Coke, so I know damn well which one she prefers, but I can’t help but tease her. The restaurant is as lovely as ever. The food is even better than I remember, but the Super Bowl could be happening around us, and I’d never know. From the moment Abby plopped down next to me on the same side of the booth, explaining that she’d rather be closer to me, she’s had me under her spell.

“I’m a little surprised that you brought me somewhere like this.”

“A restaurant?”