Love Thy Enemy (Red Stone Security #13)(18)
To her surprise his lips quirked up, softening his expression just a bit. “You’re the first person to ever say that to me.”
She couldn’t feign surprise at that. He seemed like a hard man, and in business she knew his reputation was brutal. “This used to be my room,” she said, changing the subject. “Though I had posters of surfers on my walls.” She half-smiled, looking around the transformed space. “And my walls were purple.”
“You surf?” He took a few steps into the room.
“Not really. I mean, I did in high school a little. Longboard, mostly. The posters were of surfer guys. That was where my interest was back then.”
He snorted, the sound taking her off guard. “That wasn’t so long ago.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Eight or nine years. God, it feels like a lifetime ago… I hated both of them for a long time,” she blurted.
He stepped farther into the room and, to her surprise, sat on the bed next to her. “Your parents?”
“Yeah. My dad for getting killed in a stupid bar fight and leaving us. Then my mom for… I was such a spoiled teenager. Well, not too terrible, I guess, but I was pretty self-involved. I loved my mom but I only cared about getting out of that place we were living in, about spending time with my friends. I hated what happened to us, hated that I got stuck in a new school for my last year of high school because we couldn’t afford my private school anymore. I never really thought about how much it affected her. I used to think if I’d paid more attention I’d have known that something was really wrong, that she…” Dominique swallowed hard, lifting a shoulder. She couldn’t finish the sentence. It was hard enough thinking it, let alone saying it out loud.
“She was your mother. She was protecting you. It’s what mothers do.” He reached out and swiped his thumb across her cheek.
Dominique hadn’t even realized more tears had slipped past her defenses. The feel of him gently touching her almost undid her completely, but he quickly dropped his hand.
“You sound like you know that from experience.”
He looked straight ahead instead of at her. “My mother died when I was seven. My memories of her are…good ones. She was a sweet woman who got involved with a very bad man.”
The pain in his voice was so raw she squeezed his forearm on instinct, wanting to comfort him somehow. When he stiffened under her touch she pulled back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. And she felt a little bad at noticing how incredibly muscular he was and wondering if the rest of his body was just as toned and ripped. She was pretty sure he was, because it wasn’t like his suit hid how strong he was.
Looking away from him, she said, “When I was five I wanted a princess party, complete with a prince and princess.” She wasn’t sure exactly why she was telling him other than she wanted him to know what this house meant to her, what his offer essentially meant. “The ‘prince’ got food poisoning or something at the last minute so my dad stepped in and wore the costume and stayed in character the whole time. The party was by the pool here, including a pink princess house, and all my friends got princess costumes and tiaras to wear and take home. It was so ridiculously over-the-top for a five-year-old.” She shook her head, laughing slightly. “My dad was always like that with everything. He grew up poor so I guess he just…I don’t know.” She sighed, swiping at more tears. “I swear I’m not normally a crier.”
Viktor wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hold almost awkward, but she appreciated it. Hell, she needed the comfort right now. She leaned into him, trying to ignore that spicy masculine scent that went straight to her head. He was just becoming more and more attractive to her every moment.
“You can cry all you need.” His accent was slightly thicker now.
She laid her head on his hard shoulder, soaking up some of his strength. “You really are nothing like I expected,” she murmured.
“I don’t hear that a lot.” His voice was dry. “Usually people say I’m worse than they expected.”
Laughing again she lifted her head to look at him. Their faces were only inches apart, making her suck in a breath at the close proximity of his mouth.
His very kissable mouth.
She swallowed hard, stared into those intense blue eyes. For a long moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers. That thought would have seemed insane a day ago. Now…
He cleared his throat and whatever weirdness was going on between them was instantly broken.
“My father was nothing like yours,” he said quietly, looking straight ahead again, his posture stiff.
Something about the way he was almost awkward was…sexy. Something she shouldn’t be thinking about. “Even with…you? Was he not a good father?”
He let out a harsh laugh, the sound full of bitterness. “When I was fifteen he threw me into a ring with one of his fighters to ‘toughen me up,’ as he put it—he ran an illegal fighting ring for about a decade. The guy went as easy as he could on me without making it too obvious. He didn’t want to kill me, but I ended up with a broken nose, three broken ribs and…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “At least you have good memories with your family.”
She was too shocked to respond. How awful to have such a brutal man for a father.