Oh god, Kronid is going to bolt after I blurted out, I think I could fall in love with him. Great, Dema way to go.
“Dema,” he rasps, his voice sounding hoarse.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” I say, stopping him from saying anything else but my name. I don’t think I can handle any sort of rejection, not after this experience with him. I only hope I didn’t just ruin it for us.
“Dema, god.” He shakes his head and my stomach knots up. “I’m not the type of fucker who talks about his feelings a lot, but something about you makes me want to open up a bit. Because of that I think I could fall in love with you too, when the time is right. You make me wanna talk about shit I haven’t spoken about in years. I’ve got a cold, dark heart . . . and you’re already making it a bit warmer. I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t have a heart if it weren’t for you. You might not have been mine until yesterday, Dema, but you’ve been the one woman I’ve wanted since the day you first walked into Pins and Needles. I just never had the courage to go after the beautiful woman I’d been secretly lusting after, and it wasn’t because I was afraid to speak to you or anything. I just couldn’t fuck up my job.”
“Yes,” I whisper with a nod. I understood perfectly what he’s saying.
“Good, now let’s get cleaned up, go spend some time with your grandparents, then I’d like for you to come to Pins and Needles with me. I have work to do and I think we need to be seen together as a couple, in front of the others.”
“Okay . . . I could always see if my client who I canceled on earlier would still be able to come in. I’ll get his tattoo done while you do what you have to,” I inform him though I don’t know if I want to leave this room. Right now, the two of us have a perfect bubble and I don’t want to see it popped.
I finally accept my life will be with Kronid and I couldn’t be happier. He’s the only man I’ve ever wanted and to have him all but tell me I’m the woman who keeps his heart from being completely cold means the world to me.
Chapter Twelve
Kronid
Last night I kept Dema’s grandparents up until about one in the morning. We drank vodka, ate pelmeni, and played multiple rounds of Durack. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve felt like I was part of a family, and yet in hours I no longer felt like a stranger to these people. They were telling me old stories about Dema when she was a child, about the things she’d say and do, even how she carried herself and had plans for everything. They even told me a story of when she stole her mother’s permanent markers and started drawing all over her walls. Considering what she does for a living now I can believe it.
Not only did they tell me old tales of Dema and her ridiculous childhood but spending time with them gave me insight on the sacrifices Dema makes to take care of them. While we were drinking vodka, she’d go get them large glasses of water and made them eat more food, and then more to counteract the alcohol before she gave them their bedtime medications. At a point she grabbed onto my hand and pulled me around a corner, begging me to say I was tired so they’d go to bed. She had to explain to me they wouldn’t go to sleep until I said I was tired, because it would seem rude since I’m a visitor in their house. So, I did as she asked and then they went to sleep relatively quickly.
The two of us stayed up for a bit longer, drank more vodka, and began to learn a bit more about the other. It’s obvious we’re not going to become best friends overnight, but we’re in this together now and we’re going to do what’s needed. I think Dema thought I was going to leave last night, but I didn’t. After an awkward encounter I jumped into her bed and slept alongside her, even pulled her close against my chest halfway through the night. I hate how things went down and showing her my softer side could be the way to prove I’m not just someone who makes declarations without intending to follow through. Most view me as a monster and while I’ve done horrible things, I won’t treat her in such a way.
Now it’s the morning and I’m slumming back to work in the clothes I wore yesterday, without giving a fuck about it. Women call this the walk of shame, but I’m the man who begs someone to ask me why I’m wearing the same shit. I can guarantee I’d come up with some sort of smartass remark to answer with.
I drove Dema in my SUV, even after she had a fit about walking to work as she normally does, saying it’s how she gets her exercise in. I laughed and told her I’d be giving her other ways to get her exercise in, and not to worry. She blushed and it was damn near the sexiest thing I’ve seen from her.
Now I’m opening the door to Pins and Needles with my hand on the small of her back, pushing my way past the lobby into the shop and continue onward until we’re directly in front of my office. I slide the key in the door and push it open, walking in alongside her.
“Fuck, I forgot to stop for coffee,” Dema curses under her breath and my eyes instantly lock with hers.
“It’s no problem, we can both go back out and grab some. I’d like some as well, so it’s the perfect opportunity to spend more time with you.” I smile as I finish my words and the rosy color, I’m becoming fond of rushes over her cheeks.
“It’s not a big deal, Kronid. It’s only at the edge of the block and I’ve done this a thousand times. I’ll grab you some coffee though, if that’s alright.”
I remain silent for a moment, instantly wanting to tell her I can buy my own coffee, but the thought is so fucking sweet. “Sure. I’m betting you know what I like.”
She gives me a curt nod and starts to turn on her heel, but I grab her by the arm and pull her toward me, planting my lips right onto hers. As she pulls away, she fails at hiding her bright smile and the blushing of her cheeks only grows redder. I watch as she walks down the hallway and then heads out through the door, off to get some much-needed coffee.
I head to my old workstation that acts as a desk. I purchased it from an estate sale about two years ago. It was stained black, but in some areas, it holds the natural honey color opposed to the black walnut and even though it would likely be viewed as imperfect by others, it’s always spoken to me. The way the darkness mixes with the light reminds me a bit about myself, even I only have a few lighter streaks while the darkness consumes me.
Pulling my center drawer open I take my laptop out and open it up. I turn it on and after a few minutes it’s up and running while I have our secure network online, I can look over the private information that’s been sent to me. All of the men trying to obtain brides fill out profiles, answer questionnaires, and do basically whatever the fuck we ask of them. I on the other hand always run background checks and credit reports on them, ensuring they’re who they say they are.
I print a couple out since they’re prospective and ideal suitors for some of the women, while I immediately blacklist a few men who I’ve found have lied on their applications. I don’t know why they do this type of shit. Do they think I won’t run every report on them that I can? Idiots.
I grab the paperwork from the printer beside me and turn around on my chair to look at the small stack of men I’ll approve. The first one is a man in Texas, who obtained his money through a trust fund his parents left for him and invested well. He owns a ‘spa’ that he explains is a happy place for men and women to enjoy the company of other people. In all, it sounds a fuck of a lot like a sex ranch. I’ve heard rumors about them, but never once have I had a client allude to the fact they own one. Everything in his background tells me he’s a decent person, but, I do worry for my girls. Will they be put to sex work at the ranch? It’s not what we’re for. Men come to us to find good wives, not sex slaves.