Page 53 of Ensnared
"He's dead," he said coldly. "He and my father share the same grave. And as for the tattoo, it's for my grandparents. It means lots of things to me when I see it. Regret, loss, instability, everything but more importantly it reminds me of what I lost."
His words felt like a shot going off, alarming and final. Shifting against him, she tried to think of something to say to break the dour mood. A thought popped into her head and she looked up and met his gaze. She could see the glint of curiosity within them as he waited for her to speak.
"When..." she began hesitantly.
One blond brow raised in question.
When are you going to let me go?She knew the question if spoken out loud would shatter this moment. As surely as the sun rose and fell each day, his warm beautiful smile would fall and a cold, wild one would take its place. They would take on the roles of jailer and captive again, each circling the other, watching and waiting for the next move.
Shaking her head in dismissal, Eve scooted closer to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck, and inhaled his scent.
Even if it was all temporary, even if every day was a lie, right now, in his arms, it was a beautiful lie.
Chapter 29
WhenDimitriwokeupthat morning the right side of the bed was empty.
It was not a discovery he liked at all.
It wasn't until he went downstairs following the lively sounds from the kitchen that he let his annoyance dissipate. Standing side by side with her brother at the kitchen island, Eve was rolling out dough. Covered in patches of flour with her hair up in a messy bun and her gold-rimmed glasses reflecting the light, she looked like a disheveled mom from a sitcom.
There was something terribly provocative about the look. It reminded Dimitri of everything he could never have. A mother who was actually there. Warm cookies on a cold night. Soft hugs during dark times. But with her it was all here right in his grasp, his for the taking, that is if he could get past the small army of his men crowding the kitchen.
He stood there wearing a wrinkled shirt and a pair of dark lounge pants, barefoot, staring at three enforcers and both of his lieutenants staring at Eve like a pack of hungry dogs.
"Okay, the first batch is ready," Ricky announced, turning around with a hot skillet in hand and carefully dumping familiar half-moon shapes onto a plate.
The enforcers stood up first, plates in hand, and gathered around the back of the island where Andrey and Dominic sat.
"What is going on? Who the hell is doing security?" Dimitri snapped, finally bringing everyone's attention to his presence.
Eve rubbed self-consciously at her face and smiled at him, a gesture that instinctively brought a smirk to his lips despite his annoyance.
"We're making pierogies," she said as she handed a bowl of what he assumed was sour cream sauce to Ricky.
Fuck. That's what that smell was, he thought as he inhaled the wonderful aroma. He hadn't had homemade pierogies since he was a kid.
Shoving one of the enforcers to the side so he could see past him, Dominic gave him a nod. "Petr is out there and I am still checking the cameras," he said, holding up a tablet.
Without him needing to say anything, the enforcers moved out of his way and Dimitri pulled out the last empty seat at the counter. Working as a team, brother and sister served up a huge pile of pierogies drizzling them with sour cream sauce and chives. For the next few minutes, the kitchen was only filled with the sounds of satisfied groans from his men and the sounds of the rolling pin across the dough.
The taste of sautéed onions, spices, and bits of ground sausage melted in Dimitri's mouth as he ate one after the other. He was going to have to increase his workout this week, he mentally noted. But it was worth it. Flicking a glance at Andrey, Dimitri had to fight back a grin. Even his irritable lieutenant looked like a man in the throes of a heavenly epiphany as he ate the dumplings.
Ricky, having caught Andrey's expression, piled four more pierogies onto the lieutenant's plate. A look passed between the two men; a look Dimitri was mildly surprised to see but said nothing about it.
Dimitri's phone chimed from his pocket. Pulling it out, he read the notification from Roman. Frowning, he stood up from his seat. He did not want to leave. For starters, he liked looking at Eve cooking in their kitchen and secondly, he wanted more pierogies and he knew the hungry bastards surrounding him, watching his every move, were not going to leave any.
Catching Eve's eye, he held up his phone and pointed in the direction of his office. Nodding with a smile, she wordlessly stepped back and opened the oven to reveal a whole plate of pierogies. His whole body tightened in satisfaction. She had already thought of him.
Turning away, he walked down the hall toward his office door off to the side of the living room. Again, his thoughts swirled around Eve. He flexed his hands at his sides. Possessiveness was roaring through his veins, filling his mind with dark impulses. He wanted to turn back to the kitchen and walk around the counter to where she stood and pull her into his arms. He could imagine her soft hips in his hands as he lifted her onto the flour-covered island. He smiled at the thought of her shocked face as his men watched him devour her lips. She would fight him, just because of the audience. Her hands would push desperately at his shoulders as her brother watched in horror.
And if he wasn't so completely ensnared by this fucking woman Dimitri would have done it too. So here he was walking with a hard-on back to his office.
At least he wasn't alone. Looking back, Dimitri smirked at the miniature cat trotting silently behind him. Lately, to Eve's jealous-filled horror and his subsequent amusement, Mochi had taken to following him around the house. Going through his office door, he held it open for the mini feline, watching her as she walked past with all the grace of royalty.
Sitting at his desk, Dimitri opened the video call from his computer and waited as the icon rang. It only rang twice before the image of his former boss appeared on the screen.
Holding two babies in his arms and somehow balancing a bottle in each of their mouths, Roman Mashir, usually a meticulous, well-dressed man, looked disheveled and a little worn around the edges.
