The Bastard's Bargain Read online

  So fierce and so fucking loyal.

  He cupped her face and kissed her lightly. “I’ll find out.”

  “Thank you,” she spoke against his lips. “Pavel and I would like to go over the placement of the men with you in the morning if you can fit it into your schedule.”

  “I’ll make it work.” It was so very strange to have this conversation with her, something perfectly normal talking about schedules, when they were in the midst of such insanity. More so, when a couple days ago, they’d been at each other’s throats.

  “Good.”

  “There was something else?”

  “Yeah.” She raised her eyebrows. “When were you going to tell me that you might have a traitor in the house?”

  He rocked back on his heels. “Pavel told you.”

  “Pavel told me that you trust him, which is why he’s been my designated babysitter. I connected the rest of the dots myself.”

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” The thought of one of his men turning on him, doing something to harm Keira…He clenched his jaw. “When I find the traitor…”

  “Oh yeah, I got it. Death and a painful one at that.” She didn’t sound too worried about it, which only made him respect her more. Keira went up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I just wanted you to know that I know, and I’m not going to take any stupid risks.”

  “I appreciate that.” He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been about her doing exactly that until he heard her promise. Dmitri leaned back far enough to get another look at her, determined to lighten the mood a little. “I like this.” He ran his finger down the line where her blazer met the lace shirt underneath.

  “Yeah, well, you bought it.” She gave him an impish grin, her seriousness gone in an instant. “Claudia and I have to deal with a couple more things, but I’ll be done inside of an hour. She’s more than capable of harassing the muscle into submission.” Keira stepped into him. “Tomorrow we have to play politics, wrangle my family, and avoid playing into the bad guys’ hands. Get done what you need to and come out with me.”

  “Out.”

  “Yes, out. Let’s just pretend for a few hours that we don’t have an evil empire to run and just be us. Pavel can play guard dog so no one gets any funny ideas, but I want it to just be me and you.”

  The concept was more attractive than he could have dreamed. Just he and Keira, sharing a meal. In public. Dmitri couldn’t put his finger on why being in public made a difference, but it did. He wanted it more than he had a right to. “I’ll be ready by the time you are.”

  “Perfect.” She leaned up on her toes and kissed him again, and then slipped out of his arms. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  He waited for her to close the door behind her before he circled his desk and snatched up the phone. As expected, Aiden didn’t make him wait long. Dmitri barely paused for the man to answer to start in on him. “When I allowed your man into my home, I didn’t expect him to verbally assault my wife.”

  A long pause. “You’re angry.”

  The simmering rage that had struck the second he realized Keira could have been in danger in his own fucking home while he wasn’t there boiled over. “You talk so strongly about family first, but that idea doesn’t hold up the moment one of your siblings steps out of line. She chose, Aiden. But she is still your sister, even if she’s married to me. If you can’t remember and respect that—and order your people to do the same—you won’t be in contact with her.”

  “She ordered him carried out into the street like a bag of garbage.” Still Aiden kept on with that infuriating calm tone. It made Dmitri want to shred something.

  “He cornered Keira in a fucking dark hallway and acted like she was shit on the bottom of his shoe. I don’t know how you operate within your household, Aiden, but in mine, we take care of ours.” He hung up before he could say something truly unforgivable, and sat back.

  What am I doing?

  He never let emotions control him, even within the relative safety of this house, let alone calling out to essentially announce that something had gotten under his skin. Never. And yet here he was, fighting the desire to drive to that piece-of-shit motel and beat some respect into Mark.

  It wouldn’t work. Dmitri knew the type. Ex-military. Loyal to a fault. He could beat the man within an inch of his life, and it wouldn’t get through the thick barrier of training and loyalty. To try was insanity.

  It didn’t change his desire to do exactly that.

  He ran a hand over his face. Keira is fine. She’s not hurt. She’s not damaged in any way from the encounter…but she could have been. If Pavel hadn’t been close. If Mark was just a little more volatile. If, if, if. He could have hurt her. He could have fucking killed her.

  The traitor still could.

  Dmitri inhaled, held it for several seconds, and exhaled. She is fine. He couldn’t let what-if scenarios cloud his judgment. Keira was well, and if he locked her up for her safety, she’d never forgive him. He had to remember that.

  It might be worth earning her hate to know she was safe.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Keira couldn’t quite believe she’d been so brazen to demand a date with Dmitri. It seemed immature now. Oh, please, husband, please take me on a date. They had so much shit going on, and little of it good, and she was dragging him off-site and distracting both of them.

  “Keira.”

  She turned to find him standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked just as fresh and crisp as he had earlier, his suit jacket perfectly pressed, not a hair out of place. It gave her the silliest urge to rumple him a little, but she clasped her hands in front of her to keep from doing exactly that. “Hey.”

  He frowned. “What changed since I saw you last?” There was a dangerous edge to his tone, as if he’d go to battle on her behalf against whatever had dampened her excitement.

  Which was a problem, since she was the issue.

  She didn’t bother to force a smile because he’d know she was faking it. “I’m just wondering if maybe we should save this date for when we’re not on the verge of a crazy plan that may or may not get everyone killed.”

  “Is there anything left you need to do to prepare for tomorrow?”

  She gave the question more thought than she normally would have before shaking her head slowly. “It’s all ready. Just a matter of last-minute details with the caterers and florist that we can’t do until tomorrow anyway.” She saw where he was going with the question before she even finished speaking. “This is a distraction.” They’d done as much as they could to prepare for tomorrow. There wasn’t a single reason they couldn’t occupy themselves tonight—distract from the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

  “Nothing so simple.” He opened the front door for her. “I want to spend more time with you. You want the same. We’re not neglecting any duties in the meantime. There’s no reason not to go to dinner—unless you don’t actually want to.”

  “I want to.” She answered quickly—too quickly. Why pretend? Keira grabbed his hand as she moved past him, tugging Dmitri into step beside her. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here before something else goes wrong and ruins the night.”

  He squeezed her hand and kept their fingers interlaced. “Walk with me.”

  “Without a babysitter? Color me surprised.”

  “Pavel will be along shortly.”

  “Naturally.” The walk and the almost frigid air didn’t change her enjoyment of being with Dmitri and out of that damn house for a little bit. She loved the house. She did. But going from one cage to another wasn’t Keira’s idea of a good time. Dmitri had said she’d be a full partner, and they hadn’t had the opportunity to test that out. His bringing up the Krav Maga gym was a positive sign, but it was easy enough to say the right words without having any intention of following through with them. Get through this crisis and deal with it after that.

  She hadn’t paid much attention to the area when they arrived the
first time, but now Keira looked around with curiosity. She’d been to Manhattan a few times over the years, but it felt different now that she actually lived here. When the current threat was dealt with, she’d take some time and walk down these streets and get to know the area better. There was plenty of foot traffic, and she and Dmitri blended into the flow of people. They could have been anyone, just a couple holding hands as they walked to dinner. She liked the feeling. A lot.

  Keira stopped short when her attention caught on a brightly lit window. Three easels were set up in the display, all with varying stages of art completed in three different styles. Whoever had painted them was gifted, but that wasn’t what turned her feet into cement blocks preventing her from moving further. No, that was the bits of shop she could see in the gaps between the easels. Art supplies. High-end and varied art supplies.

  “Would you like to go in?” Dmitri asked it so very carefully, as if he wasn’t sure which side of the coin she’d land on and wanted to prepare for either.

  She did…and she didn’t. Keira swallowed hard. “I want my studio. I want to create again. But it’s been so long. I haven’t painted since my brother died.” A small part of her had decided it was a fitting penance, though what she was paying for was anyone’s guess. She hadn’t set Devlin on that path that night. She hadn’t suspected the Hallorans would stoop to such lengths. Even if she had, at eighteen, no one would have listened to her warnings anyway.

  No, the sin Keira couldn’t quite let go of was that she was alive when her beloved brother was dead.

  “If you aren’t ready, there’s nothing wrong with saying so.” Dmitri moved closer, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, letting her lean back against him. His voice was pitched low and only for her ears. “But if you want to go in—to start living again—would he truly begrudge you that?”

  No. There was no question of that answer. If it had been any other of their siblings who’d died in his place, Devlin would have kicked her ass long before now. She gulped in a breath. “It shouldn’t be this big of a deal to walk through that door.”

  “Grief does strange things to a person, moya koroleva. There’s no shame in it.”

  He was so damn understanding. It was easier to lean on him when she didn’t have to look into his face, when there were only their slightly distorted reflections in the glass of the shop. She’d thought she was ready to start painting again, had even taken steps in that direction, but this felt like standing in the sun after years pent up in a cave. “I…” It took her two tries to get the next words out. “I want to go in.”

  “I am here. You are not facing this alone. If you need to leave, we will leave.”

  Dima, I think I love you.

  The feeling took residence in her chest, nestled right next to her panic and pain and the weakness she wanted so desperately to let go of. Dark, secret parts of her that she didn’t share with anyone…until now.

  She couldn’t say the words. Dmitri had never promised her love. He’d even gone so far as to promise her that there wouldn’t be anything resembling love. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and she was in danger of forgetting it—again. Breaking down and telling him she loved him would only prove how weak she really was. How unfit.

  She couldn’t do it.

  She wouldn’t.

  But she reclaimed his hand and held on to him like a lifeline as they walked through the door and into the art shop. A tattooed guy with dark curly hair and two rings in his bottom lip waved at them. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

  Keira couldn’t form words, but Dmitri answered for both of them. “Thank you.” He angled his body between her and the guy, his gray eyes taking in every nuance of her expression and body language. “Where to first?”

  Since speaking was out of the question due to the knot forming in her throat, she turned and shuffled down the aisle with the canvases. They were standard, but she gravitated toward the stack of larger ones. If she was going to slide back into painting, there was only one size she could start with, and this fit. She had to let go of Dmitri’s hand, and she cleared her throat. “Please hold this.”

  Next, she moved to the brushes, studying them carefully before picking three in a variety of sizes. The paints were harder. Keira closed her eyes against the array of colors and counted to ten as she focused on breathing. Color was the very essence of life, and she’d shunned it so completely for the last three years. Her art had always cut to the heart of things for Keira. If she was upset, she painted. If she was excited about something, she painted. If she had to mull through a decision, she’d paint her way out. She’d intentionally cut off that part of herself to shield from the pain of grief, and standing in this shop, it was like she’d suddenly regained feeling after years of being numb. Pins and needles and pain, all rushing through her body until she was light-headed with the sensation.

  She was here. She was doing this. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to flee the building and find the nearest bar, she was doing this. Dmitri’s presence at her back calmed her nearly as much as the breathing technique did. She opened her eyes and picked six colors instinctively, doubling up on black and white. “I’m done.”

  “Khorosho. Shall we?”

  She readjusted her grip on the paints and followed him back to the register. One look at his face had her quelling any mention of paying him back for the purchase, so she stood there silently while her supplies were carefully bagged up.

  Keira didn’t take a full breath until they were back on the street. She looked down at the bags in Dmitri’s hands, and the feeling in her chest exploded. She threw herself against him and kissed him soundly. “Thank you, Dima. Just…thank you.”

  * * *

  Dmitri picked a little restaurant whose owners knew him and were discreet. The inside was narrow and deep, so there were no windows nearby as the hostess led them to the very back of the room. Low lighting was supplemented by a candle on every table, which served the purpose of creating an intimate setting and discouraging anyone from paying too much attention to the tables around them.

  He pulled a chair out for Keira, positioning her back against the wall, and then took the seat next to her. From where they sat, they could see the rest of the room, but the low light and artful shadows meant the other patrons’ attention would coast right over them. Keira’s eyes were a little too wide and she hadn’t seemed to pay attention to the rest of their walk there, so he wanted her off the street and somewhere quiet while she had time to process.

  Outwardly, it seemed such a small thing—walking into an art store and picking out a few supplies—but it was a huge step for her. What would she paint first? He’d never seen her work, but he knew she’d secured a full scholarship to one of the more prestigious art schools on the East Coast. She must be highly skilled, but art was such a strange thing. It was purely individual and offered a window into the artist’s soul.

  Keira’s soul was stubborn and broken and unbearably beautiful, and he wanted to see it painted across those large canvases she’d picked out. After years of downward spiraling, it couldn’t be comfortable, and he didn’t want to push her any more tonight while she adjusted to her newfound sense of being among the living.

  He couldn’t stand the silence, though. Letting her thoughts twist and turn and tangle with each other, every single one so easy to read on her face, made his chest ache in sympathy. He took her hand, noting its slight tremble, and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I’m proud of you, moya koroleva.”

  “It’s not like I just scaled a mountain.” Instead of sounding sarcastic, her tone was shaky.

  “Didn’t you?” He kissed each knuckle and then let their hands drop to his lap as their waiter approached. Dmitri ordered them both iced tea and the special entree, and the man disappeared almost comically fast.

  She sighed. “That’s a horrible habit.”

  Even though he knew what she meant, she sounded steadier, so he poked at her a bit. �
�It’s classically romantic.”

  “Romantic.” She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Dmitri, if that’s your idea of romantic, you’re using a playbook that’s about a hundred years out of date.” Keira shook her head and muttered, “Romantic.”

  “Call me old fashioned.”

  “Start with that stunt again, and the only thing I’ll be calling you is plain old old.” Her lips twitched in a little smile, but it died almost immediately. “But it’s a moot point. Your terms were pretty damn clear from the start, so don’t worry about me getting any ideas.”

  Several beats passed while he tried to figure out what she meant. Dmitri walked back through their interchange, and his chest clenched when he realized the source of her comment. He’d told her time and again not to expect romance from him—or love, for that matter. The way she very pointedly picked up her menu and read slowly actually stung. She was giving him a chance to back off without any awkward moments. To retreat. It was the smart thing to do. He didn’t know if he was capable of the kind of loving Keira deserved. He…felt things for her. Strong things. But they hadn’t been together long enough to know whether his feelings were anything other than lust—or infatuation.

  Surely it couldn’t be love.

  And yet…he wasn’t willing to shut the door on that conversation the same way he had in the past. Not completely. “Perhaps I was too hasty to take romance off the table.”

  Keira went so still, it was as if she’d melded with one of the shadows. “What do you mean by that?”

  He wasn’t a man who normally fumbled for words, but he didn’t want to say something to damage the fragile moment they had growing between them. “When I first decided to marry you, I didn’t quite fathom what it would be like to be with you. There are quite a few things I never planned on or anticipated when it comes to you, Keira. I enjoy spending time with you. I find it fascinating the way your mind works—it’s as twisty as mine is.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And I will spend the rest of my life counting down the time until I can have you coming on my cock next.”