Chapter 5 Dimitri and Anna walk me to my building and then we part ways. Though I try to concentrate, I'm working on Anna's nanny applicants for much of the day, which means my thoughts are filled with her daddy. Like they wouldn't have been anyway. He's interested, it's obvious, just like it's completely clear that I am too. But I've been down this road. The last guy I tried to sleep with, I honestly stopped breathing and passed out right in the middle of everything. I thought I was having a heart attack and the date ended in the ER. He was really cool about it, but never called again, as if I could blame him. But I like Dimitri so much more than I ever did those other guys I tried to sleep with, and I don't think I could take it when I watch the interest die in his eyes. So, I try like hell to push him out of my thoughts. I finally give up on working in the office and head home, bringing my files with me. Changing into my pajamas, I pull the folders back out. I've got the initial ten candidates. I'm going to review them all again and then start placing calls for screening interviews. I don't notice when the sun goes down, or how much time has passed until my phone rings, jarring me out of my work stupor. I nearly jump and then pick up my phone, flushing when I see Dimitri's name on the screen. "Hello?" "Hello, milaya." That rich baritone slides over me as I sit back on the couch, noting that it's completely dark outside. How late is it? "Milaya. What does that mean?" "Sweetheart." "Oh..." I press a hand to my cheek feeling the heat. "But Dimitri..." "Don't bother arguing, milaya, I'm very stubborn in this way." I nip at my lip, placing my head on the back of the couch. "Is that what you were calling to tell me? That you're stubborn?" "No, I thought I'd see how you were doing." "The search is going very well⁠-" "Not the search," he interrupts. "You. How are you?" "Oh," I whisper into the phone. "I'm fine. Really. I hope I didn't worry you, my job is to make you feel like you're in competent hands not⁠-" "You are very competent. But I also frightened you. Why?" He sounds curious, but still relaxed. It keeps me from growing tense. I let out a small sigh. "It's nothing. Thank you for checking on me, but I am honestly fine." "I'm glad you're fine. Tell me anyway, milaya." My lips press together as I shake my head. "Honestly Dimitri, I wouldn't even know where to begin. This isn't appropriate and even if it were, this is not a part of myself I share with anyone." The only person who knows all my secrets is Cadence. He pauses, the silence filling me with tension, before he lets out this low hum. "No one?" I shake my head and then realize he isn't in the room. "No. I've never-" I stop myself, sliding down until I'm lying on my couch. "Maybe I should have told someone, but I don't think this is the time or place to start." "I'm very strong, and fairly worldly. I might understand." My breath whooshes from my lungs. He is both, I have no doubt. What's more, the words he's asking me to share have been a bit of a festering wound on my heart and head. But once I tell him, he won't be interested in me any longer, past experience has taught me that. "I'm not sure..." Then again, maybe that's a good thing. Closing my eyes, I already feel tears forming in the corners. "It's not really a worldly story. I was...I was raped when I was seventeen." He rumbles out a string of curse words in Russian that I don't understand, but I get the point. "Who? A boyfriend? A stranger?" I suck in a jagged breath, willing myself to remain relaxed. He hasn't hung up yet. But once he knows what a totally fucked up life I've had... All he's seen is my professional veneer, that's why he's interested in me. "I don't think⁠-" "Tell me." For some reason, I can't seem to resist his direct commands. "My mom died when I was eight. Cancer. I was in foster care until I was eighteen." He makes this noise that sounds almost like a growl. But the words are tumbling out now. "It was my last placement and at first, I thought it was the best. The couple took in both me and my friend, who is really like a sister. But then the husband..." I can't even bring myself to say his name. I still have nightmares sometimes. "Why did you become frightened at my house during the home visit?" I'm relieved he didn't ask for more details about the attack, but his question throws me. I look at the phone for a second before I bring it back to my ear. "I wasn't⁠-" "You were, Ava, and I'm curious what I did that frightened you. Tell me." I draw in a ragged breath. "It was the look in your eyes." "Hmm." He doesn't sound angry or hurt. Just thoughtful. Do my words make sense to him? They barely do to me. Silence stretches out between us and I shift on the couch. "Have I weirded you out?" "Weirded me out?" he asks, like he doesn't quite understand the words. Or maybe he's realized his mistake. I let out a long sigh. "Look, Dimitri, I get it. I'm way too much. We can forget this whole conversation, I'll find you a great nanny, and we can just go back to our professional relationship. It's fine." I'm giving him the out. It's enough that he listened. Asked. It's more than anyone has done for me in a long time. "Milaya," he rumbles, the sound of his voice making me forget all my discomfort as I grow instantly wet. It's deep and possessive and through the phone there is no fear, only raw desire coursing through me. "I want you to put your hand down your pants." "What?" My heart starts beating double time. "Touch yourself." "I don't think⁠-" "You like me, I know you do, and I like you too. I'd like to touch you, but I think that's going to take some time." "You're not actually willing to wait for me-" I blink up at my ceiling, trying to understand the right turn this conversation just took. "I can assure you that I am. Now, I'm going to start by telling you that I think you are the most beautiful woman I've met in a long, long time." My hand comes to my waist, brushing my tank top up to run my own fingertips over my bare skin. "Really?" "And if I could touch you, I'd start by kissing you, slowly, deeply, my tongue teasing your mouth open, until you yielded and then our tongues would tangle together." I draw in a little gasp, the throb deep between my legs pulsing with need. "Are we standing?" "Do you want to be?" "Yes," I answer quickly, ready to keep going. More than willing to play this little game. Phone sex had never occurred to me, but now that I'm here, it sounds like the best idea I've ever heard. Like this, I'm free to enjoy his gorgeous voice, the image of him touching me, and it's better than any fantasy I've ever imagined. "Why?" My mouth twitches as I frown. "I get frightened when a man is on top of me." "We're standing," he answers in this rough, masculine voice that brokers no argument and puts me right back in the fantasy. My hand slides under the elastic waist of my shorts. "Is one of my legs wrapped around your waist?" "Definitely. One long, shapely leg is around my waist so I'm pushing right against your sensitive clit, making you moan my name." I do, arching my back as my finger pushes against the sensitive bud. "Dimitri." "Lifting your shirt, I kiss down your neck and then take one of your nipples in my mouth." Both of them peak and I give a soft cry, I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear so that I can palm one of them myself. Even with my tank still on, my nipple responds, growing harder, tighter at his words and my touch. "I'd flick my tongue over the tip..." I hear his clothes rustling and the idea that he's going to touch himself too makes the throb intensify. "Tell me what your nipples look like." I blink. I love hearing him, but me talking... Then again, I don't want to stop. Taking a long drag of air, I try. "Umm, they are pink." "Pale or dark?" "Pale," I whisper. "Mmh, yes, milaya, I bet they're gorgeous." The rosy color of my cheeks is now flushing down my chest. "How big?" He gives a small grunt. "The size of a quarter?" "Bigger." "Yes," he hisses. "Are you touching yourself?" My fingers sink deeper into my folds. "Yes." "Good girl," he rumbles, his honey voice, rougher, darker now, in a way that only makes me hotter. I'm flicking a nipple with one hand, my middle finger flying over my clit, my breath coming out in short little gasps as I breathe into the phone. "I'd kiss a path down your belly." He's breathing heavy too. "Are you touching yourself too?" I ask, wishing that I could see him. Touch him. I don't have to be afraid in this moment and with the fear gone, all the desire I've been denying rises up threatening to overwhelm me. I want to see him. His body, his cock. I bet his big, masculine hand looks insanely good wrapped around it. "Yes, my sweet treat. I've got my cock in my hand just picturing what you look like with your fingers buried deep in your pussy." It's dirty enough and so hot, that those words tip me over, and suddenly, I cry out, an orgasm ripping through me. "Dimitri," I cry, my voice raspy as I picture him here, between my legs, his thumb on my clit rather than my own finger. "Milaya," he pushes out between gritted teeth before he lets out a long groan. My hands clench into balled fists wishing that I could touch him. Slide my palms over his skin. The line is quiet for a moment, nothing but the sound of our breathing. As I float down from the orgasm, I feel my body heating again, but this time, it's from embarrassment and not passion. Did I really just do that? But the memory makes me smile. It's the first time I've shared any kind of sexual experience with another person like this. As embarrassed as I am, it was also really wonderful. "Dimitri?" "Yes, milaya?" "Thank you for that. It was..." "I think so too." I smile at his words, turning on my side. "Bright side," I laugh a little. "No risk of pregnancy." He doesn't laugh back and I tense, worried that I made some jump, like he'd even want to have real sex with me. I open my mouth to tell him to forget it, when he answers. "You'd make the most beautiful babies, Ava." The words I'd been about to say die on my tongue, as I picture myself holding a baby of my own. Suddenly this deep longing fills me that I didn't even know existed. It chokes me with emotion. "I don't know if I could ever..." "Be kind to yourself and take it one experience at a time." Does that mean we might do this again? I don't ask, I don't want to put any pressure on him. But all at once, I realize, I am going to have to see him again. "Thank you." But I can hear the hesitation in my own voice and he hears it too. "What's wrong?" "I... is this going to make working together weird?" I ask, wincing. "Not at all," he answers easily, confidence making his tone smooth. We talk for a few more minutes, until I've relaxed again, stopped worrying that I've made a terrible mistake and then we hang up the phone. I lay there, half asleep after the amazing orgasm, knowing that I should get up, brush my teeth, and go to bed. If Dimitri were here, would he pick me up and carry me? The fantasy doesn't frighten me. He looks so strong, I bet he could do it easily. And in my fantasy, instead of being afraid, I feel so safe and protected in his arms. My eyes slide closed, I'm so relaxed, I know I'm going to fall asleep right here on the couch. That's when my phone rings again. I jolt awake, a smile playing at my lips. It's Dimitri. I know it. But when I pick up my phone, it isn't Dimitri's name I see on the screen but Steve Imperian's. My investigator. My brow furrows as I quickly pick up the phone. "Steve?" "Hey, Ava," he says but he doesn't sound happy. I can already tell something is wrong. "Did you find something?" "Yeah," his voice drops low, a wince lacing the single word. "I was able to track Cadence to a last known location." "What does that mean?" He lets out a long breath of resignation. "Three days ago, she stepped into a Bratva whorehouse. Well technically, it's a sex club, but that's kind of the same thing. Crazy state we live in." "What?" I cry weakly. Those words don't even make sense. "She wasn't struggling. I know that. She walked in of her own free will. But while several people saw her go in, no one saw her come out." "A whorehouse? But why?" A lead brick sits in my stomach as I sit up. "She wouldn't..." Did Cadence sell herself? Was she in trouble? Is she still? Is she alive? "I can't find any record of debt. And no drug dealer she owed, so I can't tell you why. But what I do know is the place is owned by a high-up Bratva captain, his father rumored to be the leader of a major Russian family. If she's still there, I won't be able to touch her, Ava, and neither will the police." I try to breathe but the air is ragged as it passes my throat to fill my lungs. "No." I shake my head. There has to be some way. This is Cadence. My friend. My sister. My savior. I can't lose her, I have too... "I know someone. A Russian. Maybe he has some information." "Unless he's connected, I doubt he can help. Dimitri Ivanov is untouchable to anyone who isn't Bratva." Steve's words are like cold water being dumped over my head. "What did you just say?" "He'd have to be connected, your friend." My heart is racing in my chest as I try to organize the chaos of my thoughts into words. "You mentioned Dimitri Ivanov." "Yeah. That's the guy who has Cadence. Or, at least, he owns the club. Trust me when I say, tangling with him will be the last thing you do, Ava. I'm sorry, but this time, you can't save her." Tears start tracking down my cheeks. It can't be... Cadence is my sister. And Dimitri...it must be someone else. It can't be the man who just made me feel safe. The man who holds his daughter like she's the most precious thing in the world and plays the piano beautifully. Then again, he's also the man with creepy tattoos all over his hands. I shake my head, focusing on Steve. I have no idea how common the name is. Maybe... "Dimitri Ivanov, what do you know about him?" "Ava. I just said, leave it." "Tell me anyway." He lets out a heavy sigh, like's he's not happy with my question. I hear him run a hand through his hair. "I don't know much about him, other than he's connected, and he has a monopoly on the sex trade here in Vegas." I choke back a sob. Dimitri lives like a king. That penthouse, the artwork...but it can't be the same man. The Dimitri I know is... "He's around forty, a widow, with a young daughter. Who the fuck knows what happened to the wife." I let out a squeak, unable to control it because this is all sounding so familiar. Steve misunderstands. "Sorry. I don't mean to scare you. This guy is bad news." I don't answer as a soft sob breaks from my lips. "Sweetheart, where Cadence went, you can't follow." I look down at the phone. Me and Cadence, we're family. And it turns out, that in fact, if Dimitri really is the man who has her, I actually can.