Chapter 17

17

Gage

For the second night in a row, a phone call wakes me. I answer without looking at the screen. “Yes?”

“Gage.”

Dmitri’s voice is more potent than ice water.

“What is it?” I sit up and flip on the light, illuminating the sparse hotel room. I closed the black-out curtains before going to bed. No hint of sunlight or streetlights can get through. My phone’s clock reads four a.m. “What’s wrong?”

“Leah was drugged at a party.”

Ice fills my veins. Drugged? Was it an accident? I’m plunged back into the terror of her kidnapping.

“Is she all right?” I get out of bed, panic giving every movement an extra layer of control. The worse things are, the calmer I get. I find my jeans, a shirt, and start getting dressed.

“She’s going to be, yeah. I’m taking her to my place to sleep it off.”

“Who did this to her?” If someone hurt her on purpose, I will make sure they regret it.

“I’ll tell you everything when you get here. I assume you’ll be here soon.”

“I’m in LA. There will be a lot of traffic, but I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Just—” My throat closes.

“Yeah?”

I swallow past my pain and panic. “Just, take care of her. Please.”

“I already am.” He sounds affronted.

“I know you are. I’m sorry?—”

Dial tone. He hung up.

I suppose I deserved that.

* * *

Leah

I wake up in darkness, held in strong arms. I panic and lash out.

“It’s me, Leah.”

His words don’t penetrate my consciousness, but his scent does. Lemongrass, soapy and clean.

“What’re you doing?” My words are slow and slurred. I feel drunk. Something bad happened, but I don’t want to think about it. I can’t.

“Making sure you’re all right. The EMT said to watch you tonight.”

Terrifying memories threaten to invade my mind. I push them away. “So you’re taking care of me.”

“Yes, baby.”

I sigh and press as much of my body against his as I can. Easy to do when he’s holding me like this.

Maybe things have been fucked up between us for a few weeks. But in the end, he has always taken care of me. That time I sprained my ankle at the Montrose family cabin—it was Dmitri who skipped out on swimming to keep me company. The one and only time I got black-out drunk in college? Dmitri picked up Danica and me at the club. He helped me leave Mick. He joined forces with Gage—who he didn’t even like at the time—to save me from the loan sharks.

No matter what happens, I’m safe with Dmitri.

He might be scared of having a relationship with me, but I can feel his affection, protection, and tenderness. They form a sturdy chain, linking us together. Unbreakable.

Dmitri’s heart is a solid, reassuring thump against my ear. As I drift back to sleep, I’m content. He and I will be okay. I know it in my soul.

* * *

Leah

The next time I wake up in Dmitri’s bed, I’m alone. People are having a heated argument in the living room. My head is killing me. The light shining through the curtains is faint. I’m guessing it’s seven or eight in the morning. I roll to the side and find a glass of water on the nightstand next to a bottle of ibuprofen.

I sit up, take a couple of pills, and look down. I’m no longer in my brown dress, but some of Dmitri’s clothes. My dress is draped over the edge of the clothes hamper, a dark stain on the hem. Probably alcohol. Jungle juice. I wonder if it will come out. I like that dress.

Last night…last night was horrible. Patrick. And there was a fight. Danica hit him, I remember that much. Before that, I remember kisses I didn’t want, touches I didn’t consent to.

The details are hazy. I’m not sure whether that’s disturbing, or if it’s a relief. Perhaps it’s better to forget. What little I recall is nightmarish.

The arguing in the living room intensifies. Dmitri and Danica are having the biggest argument I’ve ever heard. Worse, now I can hear every word they’re saying.

“Yeah well, I could see it clear as day.” Danica’s voice is tight and angry. “It’s in the way you were holding her, the way you were looking at her. Fess the fuck up.”

“You’re mad at Granddad and Patrick.” Dmitri sounds a lot calmer and more measured than Danica. “But you’re taking it out on me.”

“So you aren’t denying anything?”

“No, I’m not denying any of it. I like Leah. Yeah, I like like her. I have for a while now, but you were a dick about us hooking up. But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Danica says, “The fuck you didn’t—you promised you wouldn’t go for her.”

“Look, I’m sorry. But I’m also not sorry. I like her .” Dmitri is starting to sound exasperated. “Can we please fight about this some other time? Gage is coming to pick her up?—”

Someone knocks on the door.

“That’s probably him.”

Danica says, “I can’t believe you’re doing this. She has a boyfriend , Dmitri.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. I wish I knew what unspoken reaction he’s giving her.

“Wait. That’s—that’s not a problem?” Danica’s footsteps move across the floor. She’s pacing while she works out the clues Dmitri must be unintentionally broadcasting. I’m going to have loads of explaining to do. “Leah’s always been monogamous. Why didn’t she talk to me?”

“Why do you think? You’ve been a judgmental baby about the whole thing, before it even began.”

The front door opens with its tell-tale creak.

I have to strain to hear Dmitri say, “Hey, Gage. Thanks for coming. This is my sister, Danica. Danica, this is Gage Jannik, who you of course recognize, and now the celebrity NDA is no longer in effect.”

“Pleasure.” Gage sounds distracted. “Where’s Leah? Is she all right?”

“She’s okay. I’ll see if she’s awake,” Dmitri says.

“No doubt she is,” Gage says. “I could hear you two from the front stoop.”

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Gage can get me out of here so I don’t have to listen to Danica yell at Dmitri.

The bedroom door opens and Dmitri steps inside. “Hey. Did you hear all that?”

“Yeah.”

He winces and closes the door behind him. “I’m sorry. We should’ve kept it down. How are you feeling?”

Soft conversation from the other room filters through the wall, Gage’s low tenor interspersed with Danica’s higher tones. She’s probably losing her shit right now. But losing her shit in a good way. She has always been a hardcore AoG fan.

“I’m okay, I think.” I pluck at the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing.

“Danica changed your clothes. I’ll take your dress to the dry cleaners later.”

“I can do it.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.”

“All right, then.” I shrug. Is this really what we’re going to talk about right now? Dry cleaning? After everything that happened last night…dry cleaning. The stain on my dress takes precedence.

Dmitri sits next to me on the edge of the bed. “I should’ve called you last week.”

“I should’ve called you, too.” I lean against his shoulder. My head is heavy and it feels stuffed full of lead, but my mind is alert. I’m no longer groggy.

“Last night…” He trails off.

“I don’t remember much. I don’t think I want to.”

“Your clothes were on. He assaulted you, but he didn’t rape you.”

“Good.” I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until he said the words.

His voice is low and gentle. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Not right now.”

“There’s something I want to discuss, and if you’re not up for it, I’ll back off.”

Fuck. Is he going to tell me the second auction was a mistake? Is he going to pull away again? I can’t bear it.

“No, it’s not bad.” He takes one of my hands. “At least, I don’t think it is. You might.”

“Is this what you wanted to tell me over breakfast?” It seems like a year ago we were making those plans.

His hand is a heavy, reassuring weight over mine. “Yeah.”

Sighing, I say, “Go ahead.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulders before pulling back and turning so he can face me. His gray eyes are intent, his gaze boring into mine. “I know you’re with Gage. I’m okay with it. I don’t want to get in the way of that. But you should know, Leah, that I care about you, too. I want you. I want you with every goddamn cell in my body. And I have for literal fucking years.”

Happiness fills me. For literal fucking years I’ve wanted this confession. I may or may not have invented something similar to play in my head like a movie when I was in high school. It usually involved this confession followed by him backing me up against the lockers and kissing the life out of me before throwing me over his shoulder and tossing me into the back seat of his Mustang. But the confession, admission, and declaration were a part of it, too.

But this reality in the present moment? It’s even better. My heart is a dancing butterfly, landing to taste the sweetness of a wild rose. His words are a gift to the Leah of now just as much as they are to the Leah of the past.

He continues, “I’m so fucking sorry for how I behaved earlier. I didn’t want to mess up our friendship. I didn’t want to piss off Danica. She always made me promise?—”

“I know. I heard.”

“It’s a shitty excuse, though. I should have taken responsibility. Talked to you. I shouldn’t have slept with you that first time, then left without communicating. We could’ve worked out how to tell Danica together.”

“I wasn’t a team player, either.” I was hurt by how he dismissed me, but I didn’t stand up for myself. “I could have reached out. It’s hard to be vulnerable.”

“It is. I need to work on that, too.” He sighs and presses his forehead to mine. “Leah, this is as vulnerable as I can get. My heart is yours.”

He wants a relationship? Everything good comes to an end—I’ve always believed that. But doesn’t that mean I should enjoy this good thing while it lasts?

“I—wow.” I’m not sure what to say. I want to stay in this moment for a long, long time.

“I’m pretty sure you have Gage’s heart, too.” He pulls back to look at me. “You’re capable of so much, Leah…are you capable of being with two men? Letting them fall for you, and falling for them in return? I don’t want to play games. I want something real. Tell me that’s what you want.”

Easy. Even if nothing lasts forever, I want this to last. “It is.”

He smiles, wide and happy. “Tell me I can kiss you.”

“You can.”

His lips are soft, tentative instead of commanding. Is he hesitating because he saw slimy Patrick kissing and groping me? Am I damaged to him? Does he feel the need to hold back in fear that I’ll be triggered?

I kiss him harder, tugging his lower lip between my teeth. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat before pulling away.

“Why are you stopping?” I ask.

He presses his forehead against mine. “It doesn’t feel right. You need time to recover before we go further.”

He’s right—although the pills helped, my head still hurts. It’s best to wait. But I remain close to him, breathing in the new contentment of our connection.

A knock on the door causes us to break apart.

“Come in,” Dmitri says.

Danica stands in the doorway.