“No one else in the Diamond Syndicate knows?”
“Besides my mother and uncles, no one else.”
I widened my eyes. “W-why are you telling me?”
“You’re good with keeping secrets.”
“You do know that I’m a journalist? Keeping secrets are the very opposite of what we’re known to do.”
“But you won’t tell. You’ve been quiet with Parks on Leo and Lei. I’m confident you’ll keep this to yourself.”
“I will.” I did the motion of locking my lips and throwing away the key. “But, you plan to always keep this a secret?”
“I’m not sure. For now, people find me quirky.”
“I wouldn’t say quirky, Dima.”
“Hmmm. Well, some have whispered that I’m a sociopath.”
“No. I never got that vibe. I actually thought you were an asshole.”
“A quirky asshole?”
“Nope. Just a plain ole asshole.”
He chuckled. “And now?”
“I still think you can be an asshole.”
“Perhaps, it’s my Asperger’s.”
“I doubt it.”
He raised his eyebrows. “FYI, I’m mentally noting that statement as sarcasm.”
“It’s not. I’m very serious.” Chuckling, I stared at him in awe. “I don’t understand how you’ve been able to hide it.”
“I took theater in boarding school. My mother would have never approved. Real men don’t prance around on stage. From theater I learned how to pretend, to put a mask on—that was suitable for society. And that is who you met that night.”
“The masked version of you?”
“Yes.”
“And what about now?”
“I think the mask is off, but then sometimes I’m not sure if I’ve merged with the mask. Perhaps, it will never come off. Maybe, we’re one.”
The more I thought I was figuring Dima out, the more I realized that I had no clue. This man was a story that I would never get tired of, never stop wanting to learn more about.
He pulled me in closer and closed his eyes.
He must’ve been exhausted. He’d lost real friends, and it was hard for him to easily make new ones. He was also having to deal with so much pain, but really didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. In the Diamond Syndicate, he had to present a hard solid foundation of alpha leadership.
His voice smoothed over my skin. “I feel comfortable with you.”
“Me too.” I snuggled closer into his warm hold. “Thank you for trusting in me.”
“Thank you for listening and understanding.”
“Always, Dima.”
He kissed my forehead and then leaned away. “Lights.”
They shut off.
A chuckle left me.
“Why do you find my voice commands so funny?”
“I just do.”
“Then, I’m fine with that. I would always rather make you laugh, then make you sad.”
My heart warmed.
In the dim darkness, the mini-gangsters looked less creepy in their yellow glow. They appeared more like a pattern on the walls.
Dima spoke within the darkness, “Tell me about your childhood.”
“It was a good one, just. . .”
“What?”
I moved the blanket over my shoulders, getting more comfortable in his hold. “I hate to complain. I lived in a home that had thirty rooms. I had a nanny and personal maid. I never fixed a sandwich once. The chef was just a phone call away. Plus, I was chauffeured to the best schools and given anything that I ever wanted.”
“But?”
I lowered my voice in shame. “I could never hug my mother or kiss her. I feel stupid complaining about that.”
“Hugs are important.”
I sighed. “When I was a kid, she always kept me an arm’s length away. She never wanted me to mess up her hair, clothes, or make up. When I became older, it still didn’t occur. By then, we were in the habit of not connecting in any way. Honestly, if my mom hugged me right now, I might break out in hives because I’m so not used it.”
“And your father?”
“Quiet. Dismissive. Judgy. You must understand. My parents had kids because that was expected of them. They never wanted them.”
“How do you know that for sure?”
“They told my brother and I that many times.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Still, I didn’t have it that bad.”
“But, you still have a right to complain. Love and human connection is more important than the comforts of money.”
“Only rich men say that.”
He chuckled.
Silence replaced our conversation. Closing my eyes, I shifted my attention to the rhythmic beating of his heart.
Seconds later, soft snores left him.
Good. He hasn’t slept in days. It’s about time he got some rest.
Satisfied, I relished in the heat of him and fell asleep.
25
The Morning After
Dimitri
I
n my dream, I sat on a massive throne made of skulls within a ballroom of lit candles outlining blood red walls.
Nude, Rose crouched by my feet. A diamond studded collar wrapped around her neck. A long platinum chain attached to the collar. I held the other end.
What is this?
Rage filled me. Confused, I gazed at the collar. “Why are you naked and chained? What is going on?”
She looked at the floor. “Anything for you, King Dima.”
I blinked. “But. . .”
A high-pitched voice rose in the hall. “What shall we do now, King Dima?”