Theirs To Cherish: Quintessence The Collection II, page 34
He spent the rest of the night listening to his brother and the love of his life’s breaths, finding comfort from that when everything had just changed.
And not, he believed, for the better.
Twenty-Three
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Andrei blinked at Kurt’s abrupt intrusion, then stiffened when he must have read the anger on his face. He held up a hand, which irritated the hell out of him, before Andrei turned his attention back to the computer and murmured, “Jane, do you think you can deal with that before tomorrow?”
“Yes. Of course. Is everything all right?” Andrei’s PA inquired.
“Yes,” he replied brusquely. “I’ll call again tomorrow at four.” Though he nodded at her, that was as much of a farewell as he gave his PA.
Though it could be considered rude, they were all aware that Jane had a crush on Andrei, and until recently, Andrei hadn’t realized it. Until Sawyer had pointed it out, then had spent the four weeks since joking about Andrei’s blindness—when Sascha wasn’t in the room, of course.
He’d never exactly been the height of friendliness. Kurt had seen him interact with Jane far too often to fear she had a snowball’s chance in hell of taking his attention from where it belonged—on Sascha—to her. She could wear the tightest pencil skirts in the world and drop as many pens as she wanted, Andrei had tunnel vision, Kurt knew, and that tunnel was fixed firmly on Sascha.
“She told you,” Andrei said on a grimace.
Kurt’s mouth curled into a sneer. “That’s all you can say? Yes. She told me when you should have. You and Sean. I can’t believe you kept this from me. From us.”
Rocking back in his chair, Andrei sighed tiredly. “It just happened.”
“Kidnapping a man doesn’t just happen. Holding him captive and beating the shit out of a man doesn’t just happen, Andrei. Spout your bullshit at Sascha, but I won’t believe you.”
The room was paneled with stained wood, which made it darker than the meager outside light had a hope in hell of combatting. With two desk lamps on and a blazing fire in the hearth, Kurt could still see the play of shadows on his brother’s face as his expression revealed more than Andrei would appreciate.
He read anger in his tightly furrowed brows. Sorrow in the curve of his mouth. His pinched eyes spoke of guilt, and when he rubbed at them with his forefinger and thumb, he also conveyed his fatigue.
“Sean and I asked grandfather for help with Devon’s case. I needed him to come to Veronia, and the case was getting in the way of my timeline. I just wanted to erase things.”
“The hand of justice comes with five-pointed stars now, does it?”
Andrei had the grace to wince at the reference to the symbolic stars Bratva men had tattooed on their chests. “Look, you know Devon would do far more good in Veronia than him doing his penance in a jail cell would ever achieve.”
Because he didn’t disagree, he didn’t reply, but that wasn’t to say he approved.
Andrei’s temper sparked at his lack of an answer, and he bit off, “Sean contacted grandfather, too. I think he realized after our talks with Llewelyn that we didn’t have much chance of getting Devon free and clear. When Sean asked him to look into it, Grandfather sent him the CID case file. From the before and after shots, Sean recognized Horowich as being one and the same man who was with Sascha when she was brought into the hospital after her fall.”
Kurt strode away from the door and headed toward the large mahogany desk Andrei was using. The books lining the walls in their antique shelves dampened the sound from outside in the hall, making it so all he could hear was the crackling and hissing from the fireplace.
Resting his hands on the desk, he asked, “Then what happened? And don’t bullshit me, Andrei. I should have known from the start.”
He was glad to see his brother wince; it meant his rejoinder had hit home.
“Sean explained the situation to Vasily, who had someone hack into the cameras on the street where Sascha had her accident. He found pictures of her and of Horowich spilling oil onto the sidewalk where she was about to fall.” Andrei closed his eyes, then tilting his head back, he carried on without opening them, “We approached Horowich’s barrister with this information, and he came back with a counter-offer–let this drop or have all our dirty linen aired in public.”
“So, what? You decided to have him strung up and beaten half to death?”
Andrei scowled at him. “You tell me you wouldn’t have watched, too,” he bit off. “Sascha’s so beyond traumatized by losing Camilla that she’s a different woman half the time! Our family will recover from losing Camilla, but it will take years. All because that bastard wanted an in.”
“Do you hear me arguing?”
“Well, it sounded like a criticism.”
“It was. Of you deciding this. Without me, Sawyer, or Devon.”
“Devon would have told Sascha,” Andrei instantly dismissed.
“I wouldn’t. Nor would Sawyer,” Kurt pointed out.
“Why put the burden on you?” he countered. “Do you think I like that I enjoyed seeing that bastard having the shit kicked out of him?”
“No. Don’t you think I’m angry that I did miss out on it?”
Andrei jolted back. “No. No way,” he retorted. “I don’t believe it.”
“Why? I’m a man, Andrei, aren’t I? Someone hurt my woman.” He tilted his head to the side. “Did you punch him?”
“Vasily wouldn’t allow it.”
“And you listened?” Kurt replied, stunned by that answer.
“He said it was for the best.”
“Because you wouldn’t have stopped?”
Andrei dipped his chin. “Perhaps. Are you going to tell Sawyer?”
“I don’t know. It will just piss him off. Some things are best left forgotten, but the trouble is, Sascha isn’t dealing well with any of this.”
“No. I know.” He released a heavy sigh. “I wish she hadn’t realized what was going on.”
“She thought one of us was cheating on her.”
That comment had Andrei scowling. “Why the hell would she think that?”
“Why do women think anything?” he retorted.
He mumbled, “See what I mean? Sascha would never think like that before. What with Jane and now this? It’s not like her. I hate that someone has broken something inside her.”
“What you did to Horowich . . . that isn’t going to repair anything,” Kurt warned him.
Andrei ran a tired hand through his hair. “I know,” he admitted. “I know.”
* * *
“Has Sascha finished her period?”
Kurt snickered. “Feeling frisky, Sawyer?”
Though he released a snarl, that wasn’t the only sign that Sawyer was horny. He ran a hand through his hair, something he did infrequently because his red hair was thicker than fucking wool and snagged easily.
“She’s been weird this week, hasn’t she?”
His comment had Kurt stiffening and shooting Sean a look. When his brother merely carried on reading one of the documents in front of him, Kurt heaved a sigh, sensing that Sean wasn’t going to answer. “She’s a homebody,” was all he said, figuring that would be the best explanation. As well as the easiest.
“So? She’s used to traveling now. At first, I thought it was because it was shark week, but now . . .” His voice petered out.
“Shark week?” Devon crossed his feet at the ankles as he pondered that. “Because of all the blood?” He snickered. “Very clever, Sawyer.”
The man in question rolled his eyes. “I’m a comedian, Devon. Didnae ye ken that?”
Devon sat up. “When did this happen?”
“When did what happen?” Kurt asked, confused. “Shark week? This last week, Dev.”
“No. When did Sawyer become a comedian? Why didn’t you tell me until now?”
Sawyer waved a dismissive hand and, utterly ignoring Devon, mumbled, “She’s distant.”
“She’s grieving,” Sean rasped, his voice deeper than usual.
“When hasn’t she been since Camilla?” Sawyer replied, his brow puckered. “I’m nae taking anything away from her with that, but I just don’t understand what’s different between this past week and the last.”
Kurt, feeling slightly hot under the collar, cleared his throat. “Is it her first period since . . .?”
Sawyer blanched. “Christ, is it? I havenae asked. I didnae really want to know.”
His lips curved. “Me, neither.” Rubbing his chin, and well aware he was bullshitting to protect Sawyer and Devon from the heavy weight that was the truth of Sascha’s grim mood, he carried on, “It has to be painful. That first time after. . . .”
Sawyer’s grimace said it all. “I thought she was getting better. Did you see what she’d been researching?”
“No. What?” Sean asked, his brows high.
“Pet play.” Sawyer grinned. “She must have liked that tail we got her.”
Kurt snorted, but Devon grumbled, “It’s gross.”
“Hardly, mon,” Sawyer countered. “It’s natural.”
“How is it natural?” Devon retorted. “She’s a woman, not a dog.”
“I think she’s a kitten, actually, Dev,” Sean murmured, his tone close to absent-minded, meaning he was only half-focused on their conversation.
“A kitten?” Devon squinted at that. “It makes no sense.”
Sawyer raised a hand and began ticking down with his finger. “She’s either a brat or a pet, Dev. She’s insubordinate but likes a firm hand. The rules make her feel safe, but she likes to break them and reap the reward. She’s too naughty to be an out and out submissive.”
Devon rolled his eyes. “God forbid she’d just be a woman.”
Sean grunted. “We’re well aware you don’t approve, but Sascha wants this.”
“I know she does,” he replied, surprising all of them.
“You do?” Kurt inquired, tilting his head to the side as he took in his brother who was seated at the side of the fire, a sulky pout on his lips. “How?”
“I asked her.”
Sawyer groaned. “You didn’t go putting any funny ideas into her head, did you?”
“What kind of funny ideas?” was all Devon said. “Like the fact she didn’t have to do this stuff if she didn’t want?”
A growl escaped Sean—that alone was enough to have everyone jolting in surprise. Sean was, after all, the most controlled of them all. “We do this for her.”
“Bullshit. You’re telling me you don’t get a hard-on over this shit? Watching her demean herself in front of y—” Devon’s mouth tightened. “My mother would have barked if my father had asked her to. Remember that when you’re getting her to do shit that would make any average person blush.”
It was Sawyer who growled this time. “Are you trying to tell me you think we three are like your da?”
Devon shrugged, but the look in his eyes spoke of his concern. “I think there’s a fine line between consent and force.”
“I don’t appreciate the implication, Devon,” Sean rasped.
“You don’t have to like it. You just have to listen to it and abide by it. Sascha isn’t one of the women you’d take to those clubs back in the day. She’s our woman. Our wife. Whatever she wants, do, but be aware she might not want it forever. Do you hear me?”
“Aye, we hear you. Loud and clear.” Sawyer wasn’t affronted, though, and that was enough to surprise Kurt. More than anything, he appeared stunned at Devon’s concern. Considering Devon walked around with his head in the clouds for most of the day, Kurt could understand.
He himself wasn’t altogether easy with Sascha’s sudden need to submit. Like Devon, he felt more comfortable believing it was a phase. Even though he knew that wasn’t how these soul-deep desires went.
His love of watching wasn’t something he could avoid. He’d had to embrace it or go mad. Perhaps this was the calm before Sascha’s storm?
They wouldn’t know until the hurricane hit them, but he hoped the clear up wouldn’t be too traumatic.
For all parties involved.
* * *
What was it about Google?
You made one questionable search and until the end of time, the rest of the search results were loaded down with porn.
After yet another failed attempt which resulted in porn that had her eyes flaring at just the sight of the thumbnail, she huffed out a sigh and signed out of her computer.
She was grouchy.
There. She’d admitted it. Grouchy with a goddamn capital G.
Rubbing her temple, she tilted back against the window seat and stared out at the grounds beyond, where acres of trees and bushes looked like bumps on the horizon thanks to how loaded down with snow they were. It was bleak. As bleak as her goddamn mood, and for the first time in too long, she was bored of feeling that way.
Bored with a capital B.
“Mama.”
Turning to stare at her son who was supposed to be sleeping in his cot, she murmured, “Hey, baby.” Climbing to her feet, she grimaced at the sight of his flattened mouth. “I know. The next time we’re here, we’ll get you a bed.”
“Beds are for big boys,” he retorted, his tone as grouchy as she felt.
“I know.”
“I’m a big boy, Mommy.” She knew he wasn’t just making a statement there; he was making a demand. One that insisted she agree with him.
Despite herself, she had to laugh. “Yes. You are. A very big boy.”
At her back, she heard someone chuckle, and seeing Vasily, she narrowed her eyes at him. Remaining silent though because Tin had heard the laughter and seen his grandfather, he released a squeal of excitement that she certainly didn’t feel.
Tin was all arms and legs as she heaved him out of the cot, and Vasily tutted. “You really do need a bed, don’t you?”
Tin, sensing a kindred spirit, nodded. “Yes, Dzed, I do, I do.”
She let him down and watched as Tin scrambled over to Vasily’s side. The kid always had a shit-ton of energy. Didn’t matter if he’d woken up from his nap or not.
With her eye on the pair of them, she retreated to the window seat as they switched to Russian. She didn’t mind. It amazed her that Tin had picked up the language so swiftly. She’d heard him babble away with Andrei, but with Vasily? The two of them seemed to be able to talk far more than she’d have imagined.
Resting her head back against the paneling behind her, she looked out onto the yard once more. She was aware of what they were doing in her peripheral vision, and even if she didn’t trust Vasily, she trusted him with Tin.
That made no sense, she knew.
Tin was her everything. Her baby boy. He was more precious than a two hundred-carat diamond, yet she knew Vasily would protect Tin with his life.
The diamond? Not so much. That would be smuggled out of the country before she could do so much as sneeze.
The two of them played for a while, building shit and getting more joy out of knocking the towers down. She took advantage of Tin’s attention being held by someone else and closed her eyes.
She wasn’t asleep, though, so when Vasily approached, she could level a look his way.
“Sulking doesn’t suit you.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, she murmured, “Who says I’m sulking?”
He sniffed. “Me.”
“Well, contrary to popular opinion, Vasily, you don’t know everything.”
“No? I know you’re making my boy’s life miserable.”
She cocked a brow at him. “I am? Well, I didn’t realize I was. I just thought I was trying to come to terms with crimes so heinous we could all be locked up for twenty years,” she spat.
He pursed his lips. “You know there is no comeback.”
“That doesn’t reassure me.”
“How can that not reassure you?” he retorted, waving his hands in the air.
“Because the very fact we can do this and get away with it is so beyond wrong that I can’t stand it.” She sucked down a sharp breath. “Anyway, I’m not making Andrei suffer. Not intentionally, anyway.”
“You need to do something with yourself.”
Her eyes flared at that. “Excuse me?” The old bastard wasn’t about to lecture her, was he?
God help him if he called her lazy.
“I mean you’re too smart for this.”
“For what?” she demanded, her tone close to dangerous.
He grunted. “Stop spitting fire at me,” Vasily retorted. “As much as I love Tin, and as much as he’s one of the smartest children I’ve ever known, you’re more than that, Sascha. You’re more than just a mother.”
She winced. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s not offensive what I say,” he retorted. “I just mean . . . being a mother is a full-time job. I saw this with my wife. God rest her soul. With my son and then with Andrei.” Considering Vasily never mentioned his failure of a son, especially not around Andrei, those words came as a surprise. “But when you are grieving, stewing in that grief is never wise. You must move on. You must do something to take your mind from these things.”
Sascha blinked up at him. “Moving on isn’t as easy as you’d think. Not when I shouldn’t have had to move on in the first place.”
His lined face creased more with his shared grief, and as he reached for her hand, she didn’t pull back, not even when he pressed it to his chest, just above his heart. “I feel your pain, Sascha. I am not a mother. This, I know. I wasn’t a good father, but I was a good grandfather. I will continue to be until God takes the breath from my lungs. I will do things that most people wouldn’t dream about doing as they rest, safe in their beds, for him and by extension of his love, you. But I feel your grief. I understand it.
“One thing you learn in this life of mine is pain. You don’t grow attached. You learn not to. But now and then, someone slips through the cracks, and you learn to guard them. To guard them so well that you will kill for them. Commit the worst sins in their name.”
“That doesn’t justify—”
But he didn’t let her finish. “I make no justification,” he told her. “I see no reason to.”
