“Ican’t believe he’s got you cooking, Dash.” Evan leans against the counter and watches me plate the pasta. Next comes a generous helping of a Sunday sauce I’ve had bubbling away all afternoon, plus a few nice sausages that have all but melted down into buttery soft goodness.
“He doesn’t have me doing anything,” I say, pushing his bowl at him. “I’m doing it because I want to.”
He seems bemused. “But you never cooked.”
“I barely left my room,” I point out.
“Okay, that’s true, but still. Are you going all domestic and shit now?”
“Actually, yes, I think I am.” I press a hand to my pregnant belly. “At least for a little while. Tigran wants to hire a housekeeper, but I keep making him wait.”
“You really like this, huh?” His expression softens. “Gotta say, it suits you.”
“What, you approve of my marriage now?”
“Not even close.” He stalks out of the kitchen.
I sigh, picking up the remaining bowls and following.
It’s been good having Evan around. He’s staying in a Brotherhood safe house a few blocks away with some of his most trusted men while Tigran and Arsen figure out how best to put this new firepower to use.
In the meantime, we’ve been having regular meals together, and it’s almost… normal.
If anything in this life can be called that.
Tigran’s waiting at the table. When he spots me, he leaps to his feet. “Let me take that,” he says hurriedly. Once the bowls are down, he pulls my chair out for me. “Sit now, you’ve done more than enough.”
“Quit fussing,” I say, waving him off, but he just ignores me as he prepares my meal the way I like. Pepper, a little extra salt, and a big dollop of cheese. He gets my glass of water and even makes sure I take my prenatal vitamins.
Once that dance is over, he finally sits.
Evan’s leaning back in his chair, watching the whole exchange with a deep frown. He says nothing though, only starts eating once we’re settled.
“How are the men liking Baltimore?” I ask him, doing my best to keep things casual.
“They’re fine. Not getting into trouble yet.”
“Give them time,” Tigran says with a grunt.
“My experience is, if you give a soldier a task, they’re less likely to find a nasty distraction.”
Tigran’s jaw works. “We’re still discussing how best to utilize your people.”
“I already told you. We came down here to fight. None of my men want to sit around the safe house eating takeout and watching TV. They’re bored, and bored men are dangerous men.”
“As we already discussed—”
“Please, don’t start this again,” I say, exasperated. “All you two do is bicker.”
“Tell your husband to quit dragging his feet.” Tigran leans forward, expression hard. “You know where the McGraths are holed up. Point in their direction, and we’ll do the rest.”
“If it were that simple, himar tgha, we would have killed the Irish already.”
“That’s why you came begging for my help then, naglyy mudak, isn’t it?”
“Ya znayu chto eto znachit, gad!” Tigran snaps back. “Watch your mouth in my home.”
“Stop it,” I say sharply, glaring between them. “Evan, lay off. He wants your help, but they’re trying to do this the right way. And you, Tigran, stop acting like he’s the enemy. My brother’s here to help.”
Both men lapse into surly silence. They’ve been like this the last few days. It’s getting very annoying, if I’m honest. I almost wish they’d slap their dicks down and get the measuring contest over with so we can all move on.
Dinner’s tense after that. I do my best to make small talk, just to ease some of the awkwardness. When we’re finished eating, Tigran insists on cleaning everything in the kitchen.
“You’ve done enough,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek. “Stay here and rest.”
“Thank you, darling.”
Once Tigran’s in the kitchen, I turn on Evan. He’s in the middle of refilling his wine glass when I bark at him. “Why do you keep antagonizing my husband?”
“I didn’t realize I was.” He’s trying not to smile, though, as he takes a drink and smacks his lips. “Good stuff.”
“Don’t try to change the subject.” I sit back, crossing my arms. “What’s your problem?”
He studies me for a long moment. His expression goes from annoyed to slightly amused, and finally, he shakes his head.
“Honestly? I don’t know anymore.”
“Explain, please.”
He gestures at me, waving a hand up and down. “You’re different, Dash. You know that, right?”
“No kidding. I’m pregnant, bloated, puking half the day, and exhausted constantly.”
“That’s not what I mean.” His smile is gentle as he glances toward the kitchen. “I came here expecting to hate that guy. You know, the stranger that stole you away from everything you’ve ever known? I’ve heard things about Tigran, and none of them have been good.”
“Rumors,” I say with distaste.
“Yeah, some, but more of those stories are true. I figured I’d come here and find some abusive, controlling, vicious psychopath treating my sister like dirt.” He looks back at me and lets out a breath. “Instead, you’ve got the most feared man in all of Baltimore doing your dishes.”
I snort, glancing at the kitchen. I hadn’t thought about it that way. I know Tigran’s got a reputation, and it’s probably deserved, but to me, he’s just… my husband.
He’s the man I fall asleep with. The man I wake up with. The man who makes me laugh and puts fire in my belly.
Without him, I’d still be that weak, scared little girl, terrified of her own shadow.
“We work together,” I say, not sure how else to explain it. “I don’t think either of us thought we’d end up like this.”
“He pulls out your chair. He brings you your pills. He takes care of you, doesn’t he?”
I nod, warmth filling my heart. “Absolutely.”
“You look at him like the sun shines out of his arrogant smile.”
“He’s not arrogant,” I say, glaring at my brother.
“You love him, don’t you?”
I open my mouth to tell him off, but nothing comes out. Because do I love him? Is this what love feels like?
I haven’t wanted to investigate these emotions too closely. My relationship with Tigran snuck up on me, slowly, one day at a time, until now I find myself deeply entangled with him. A part of me is afraid that, like a shadow, a little light will banish it.
“I think I do,” I admit very quietly. Even though I’ve finally admitted it out loud, nothing changes. The heavens don’t move, the earth doesn’t shift beneath my feet.
If anything, I feel more solid.
“I can see why. That man dotes on you. I may not approve of him, but—” He takes another long drink, looking reluctant. “He’s clearly a good husband.”
“So why do you keep acting like a bastard?”
“I guess I’ve been testing him. You know, pushing his limits? Seeing if I can make the monster show up. But no matter how much I poke and prod, he keeps himself under control, especially when you’re around. It’s admirable, honestly. I respect him for it.”
I laugh at the sheer audacity. My brother’s a lot of things, like charming and conceited and sometimes even funny, but I never pictured him as brave and protective. Apparently, I got him all wrong.
“Okay, I’m glad my husband passed your weird little hazing ritual, but can you please cut it out? I’m tired of the fights.”
“I really do need to give my men something to do,” he says, then makes a surrender gesture with both hands. “But I’ll back off. For now, anyway.”
“Thank you.” Relief floods me. This tension has been such a pain, and it’ll be nice if they could get along for the remainder of Evan’s trip here.
“One more thing, though.” He leans in closer. “Have you told him yet?”
“About… what?” I swallow, already sure of the answer.
“You’ve come out of your shell way more than I ever thought you would, but you’re still the same old Dash.” He beams at me, but I don’t share his amusement.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re locking all those feelings up. That’s what you’ve always done, right?”
“I don’t, I mean, you’re not—” I cross my arms, my cheeks turning red with frustration. Because I know he’s right.
Bury it down. Chin up, spine straight. Act all prim and proper, become the perfect submissive girl, and nobody will hurt you.
That’s been my mantra for twelve long years.
Make all the trauma disappear through sheer force of will.
But it doesn’t work anymore. I can’t keep living my life pretending I’m one thing when really, I’m another entirely.
I’m not prim. I’m not proper. And I’m sure as heck not perfect.
I’m just Dasha, and I’m still trying to figure it out.
“You should tell him,” Evan says, glancing toward the kitchen before he stands up. “I bet he feels the same.”
“I don’t know.” I’m burning with butterflies and nervous fear. “Maybe he doesn’t.”
“Dash, you’re insane. Have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re a princess. No, like you’re a freaking angel.” He pats my shoulder as he walks past. “Tell the mudak I said I’ll talk to him later. And next time, we’ll get along, all right?”
“Wait, hold on,” I say, hopping up. “Are you serious about, you know—”
“See you later, Dash.” He walks off, leaving me alone in the dining room. I plop back down in my chair, feeling depleted and scared. Not because anything’s wrong, but because if Evan can see what I really think about Tigran, then I can’t keep it hidden for much longer.
Tigran emerges a few minutes later with some tea. “Did your brother leave?” he asks.
“A little while ago. I made him promise to get along with you better.” I take a sip of the herbal sleepy-time blend. “And now you’re going to do the same.”
He scowls, shaking his head. “Why would I do that? The vngstan has been nothing but a pain in my ass.”
I have no clue what that word means, but I suspect it’s not really good happy friend.
“You’ll do it for me. And also because Evan’s just being protective.” I arch my eyebrows and blow on my tea. “Sound familiar?”
“He’s lucky I’m married to his sister,” Tigran grumbles. I love it when he gives in to me. I doubt he bends for basically anyone else. “Otherwise—” He cuts a hand across his throat.
“Make peace. He will too, I promise.”
“Fine. For you, anything. You know that.”
More butterflies assault my belly. Right where our baby’s growing.
“I know,” I say, grinning at my gorgeous husband.
