Page 24 of Doc

“I’ll be here when you need me, Ash.”

“I know.” I kiss his cheek, soaking in the comfort only he has been able to give me the last ten years, knowing that even if things don’t work out with Soren, I’ll always have this. And that, more than anything else, is important.

“How the hell do you fuckers keep getting in?” I ask, staring at the banes of my existence, who are all sitting on my sofa, watching TV like this is the normal thing to do. Which…for the three of them, it sadly is.I need new friends.

“Your mother called,” Nico says.

I groan and head to my bedroom, not wanting or needing to hear anything else. My mother, as much as I love her dearly, is a pain in my ass, and it doesn’t matter that I’m a grown adult with a life, a new career, and a fancy new condo thanks to my scary new boss, she’ll insist on meddling in my life until one of us dies. And at this point, I’m convinced it’ll be me first, simply from sheer exasperation.

After a shower and change of clothes, I walk out to the living room once more to find the terrible trio still on the sofa.

“What, no homemade dinner this time?”

Nico laughs. “Nope. We ordered pizza, it should be here in like half an hour.”

I sit in the recliner and stare at the three pairs of gray eyes watching me intently. “Right, what did Ilyona have to say this time?”

“She thinks you’ve met someone,” Vonny answers.

Groaning, I roll my eyes and look up at the ceiling. “I told her I haven’t, and that I wanted to get settled before I worked on my love life.”

“Apparently she thought that was bullshit,” Dima says.

“What I don’t understand is why she called you.”

Nico snorts. “Really? You have to ask?” He mutters something in Russian that I don’t quite catch. I may know enough to swear, and can understand when my mother peppers our conversations with endearments, but it was never a language either of my parents deemed important enough for me to learn.

Though I’ve learned that the Amatos toss Italian around more often than my uncle’s Bratva does with Russian. Even Doc has muttered to himself in Italian on occasion, though not enough for me to consider learning the language—at least not yet.

“Ilyona said you wouldn’t consider having babies with one of us,” Vonny replies. “Which means you obviously have someone else lined up, even though you keep protesting.”

I stare at my friend, wondering how the hell that made any sense in their brain… Because I know it’s a thought the three of them share—they’re scarily in-tune with one another.

“I kissed my boss,” I say. Even if I wanted to keep my attraction to Doc a secret, they would have sniffed it out eventually. They all know me far too well.

“I’m assuming you mean the doctor, and not Boss, boss,” Dima says. “Because you’re still alive, and I don’t think Carter Amato would have left you whole had you kissed his husband.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Yes, the doctor. I… There’s something about him that calls to me, on many levels.”

“Ahhh,” Vonny says. “I get it. He makes you want to do naughty things to him while you put him on his knees. Da, that would do it.”

Narrowing my eyes at the man, I say, “I don’t know how you know so much about my sex life, and I don’t want to know. It’s fucking creepy.”

All three of them smile in unison, looking like eerie mirror images of each other. Having grown up with them, it makes things a little easier. I know them, but fucking hell, sometimes even I wonder if there are three of them, or if I hallucinate that.

“You’re our best friend,” Nico says. “Of course we’re invested in your interests. So, this doctor is your type, huh?”

“Did we ever determine what his type is?” Dima asks his brothers. “Besides submissive?”

“Older,” Vonny says. “Probably arrogant, since he’s a doctor. Someone who won’t hesitate to drop to his knees, but stands up for himself as well. Sory isn’t the type to want someone who fawns all over him, unless that’s the game they’re playing.”

I am mildly disturbed. Not that I’ll ever tell them how close to correct they are. That they apparently know me this well is…concerning.

“Are you secret Russian spies?” I ask, only half-joking.

They laugh, and even that is eerily similar. I really want to know what I did in a past life to have to put up with this.

“We just know you, Sory,” Nico answers. “And, like your mother, we want to see you happy.”

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