The Hacker by Renee Rose

19

Dima

After lying on my bed staring at the ceiling all night, I stay in my bedroom instead of going to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

I can’t be around anyone. I want to throat-punch Ravil and Maxim for coming up with any plan that involved putting Natasha in danger.

Bozhe moi,I will never get the image of that gun at her head out of my brain.

And knowing it was my fault?

Ruins me.

She didn’t want to go, and I made her. And look how it turned out.

I sink onto my bed and stare into the darkness.

The worst of it? Natasha thinks I used her. That literally makes me want to shoot my nuts off. She compared me to Pamela Harrison.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

She was never my fall-back girlfriend. It wasn’t a love-the-one-you’re-with situation. Not even close. She rocked my world the moment I first met her.

Maybe that’s what scared me so badly.

I didn’t want her to mean more to me than Alyona had because that, even more than the promise I’d made to her, made me feel unfaithful.

And now I can’t even tell Natasha any of those things because she asked me to respect her wishes and stay away.

I couldn’t have fucked things up more with her.

The irony isn’t lost on me that I wasn’t ready to open my heart until the day she closed hers.

I’m not giving up, but I don’t have a fucking clue where to start.

I can’t hack back into her heart. I can’t solve this one behind my computer.

I’m not lame enough to try to text her how I feel. I need to show her somehow. But what would prove I’m not using her? That I’ve changed and I’m ready to go all in?

I have absolutely no fucking clue.

It’s possible I need help. Honestly, I’d rather throw myself down the elevator shaft than go bare my soul to my roommates, but maybe one of the women can tell me what to do.

That’s it, I just need someone to tell me what to do.

I head into the main living area of the penthouse, which seems like a foreign place after spending the week with Natasha. It’s familiar, but wrong.

All wrong.

“You look like shit,” Maxim observes. He and Sasha are in the kitchen in their running clothes with their hands all over each other. “Seriously. You look as bad as Nikolai.”

“Thanks.” I drift toward the breakfast bar, inviting more abuse.

“So what’s the story with Natasha?” Sasha demands. She’s not the type to ever stay out of anyone’s business, but for once, I’m almost grateful for the intrusion.

Still, I have no answer. I shrug, weakly.

“She said you preferred a ghost over a living, breathing woman. What gives?”

I shake my head then nod. That assessment kills me, but to Natasha, probably seems accurate. No wonder she feels like the fall-back friend.

“I said goodbye to my ghost,” I tell Sasha, my voice cracking. I plunk down on the barstool in front of her. “But I think it was too late. Now she won’t talk to me.”

Story and Oleg emerge from their bedroom and gather behind me, both of them projecting kindness and sympathy. At the same time, Lucy emerges from Ravil’s bedroom in a short robe, baby Benjamin cooing on her hip.

I realize with a pang that nearly takes my breath away, how much I want what Ravil has—the woman he loves and a baby they adore. The whole package. A sweet little nuclear family. Something none of us ever thought we’d have. The women that have come into the lives of my brothers here have brought enough sweetness to counteract some of the stain of the bratva from our souls. I want Natasha’s sweetness. I want the whole package with her.

“When Natasha was new to America, she had a neighbor who was only friends with her when they were at home. At school, she was too Russian to associate with.”

Sasha pulls a horrified face, always the thespian.

“She compared me to that friend.”

Lucy sits the baby on the edge of the breakfast bar, and Sasha instantly reaches for him. “So you need to prove to her that she’s not a friend of convenience,” she sums up.

I turn to her, grateful for her logic. “Yes. But she won’t talk to me.”

“So you’ll have to show her.”

“It should be public,” Sasha weighs in. “Something big.” Of course, Sasha’s flare for the dramatic always comes into play.

But everyone else seems to agree.

“Yes. Public and big,” Maxim repeats.

“A billboard,” Story suggests.

Oleg signs something, and I watch. It’s a little fast for me to pick up. “Something she can see?” I try to interpret.

“Something she can see from her window!” Story fills me in. “Yes! A giant banner hung on the building across the way. How would you go about that?”

I frown. Fuck if I know. If it can’t be accessed with technology, I’m at a total loss.

“I can try to find the building owner,” Maxim offers.

“What about one of those airplanes that flies with the banner behind it?” Sasha suggests.

“Yes,” I agree. It feels right. “All of that.” I spread my hands. It’s not like me to ask for help. I’m usually the one offering it, but I’m way out of my depth here. “Can you help me?”

“Of course.” Lucy smiles. “We can figure this all out.”

Natasha

My mother is home, which means I’m in my bedroom pretending to read a book. I just want to be alone while I lick my wounds.

I didn’t want to tell her about what happened last week. If I had, she would want to move us out of this building by the end of the day. Me getting mixed up in bratva business is her worst nightmare.

But not telling her makes it impossible to function around her. I’m still grieving. It may have only been a week, but the intensity was unmatched. I fell in love and had my heart broken all at once, and it’s not easy to bounce back from that.

An unknown number comes through my phone, and I pick it up. I don’t feel like talking to anyone, but it could be a new client.

“This is Natasha.”

“Hi Natasha, this is George Engels, head of admissions at the Illinois School for Naturopathy.”

I know the school—it was my top pick when I’d been applying last year, but I have no idea why they’d be calling now. “Oh? Um, hi.”

“We understand there was some miscommunication with you about your scholarship offer—that it never came through?”

“Scholarship offer?” I echo blankly.

“Sounds like you didn’t receive it, which would explain why we haven’t received your acceptance yet. Listen, most of that money has already been claimed, but I just had a student back out, and we’d like to give you the chance again, if you’re still interested in attending.”

“Well, I am interested—um—but I’m confused. You say you sent me a scholarship offer?”

“We’re confused too, to be honest. I just got an email from the Dean asking me to look into your case personally, and it looks like someone in our office dropped the ball somewhere. But there is money available, and I’d like to make the offer. Have you already accepted another offer?”

My heart starts pounding. Even though I have a strong suspicion about how this happened, I can’t hold back my excitement. “Um, no, I haven’t.”

“Then we’d like to offer you a full ride. But I’d need to know by the end of the week. I will email you the paperwork right now, so you can look it over.”

“Wow. Thank you so much. Really. This is very exciting.”

“It is, yes. We were so impressed with your entrance essay. It was really moving.”

My entrance essay? Huh. Interesting.

“Um, thank you. I look forward to your email.”

“Great. I’m sending it now. You have a great day, Natasha.”

I end the call and stare at the phone. Then I open my computer, which I haven’t done since I got back. My email box is full, and there are messages not just from the Illinois School of Naturopathy, but from seven others, all with similar stories. My application had been misplaced, but there’s still a place for me. Some offer money, some don’t.

I give a sob of joy. It feels like I just won the lottery. The thing I wanted that I never believed would happen just got handed to me on a platter.

And I know who made this happen.

Part of me wants to reject this gift Dima has given me, but how can I?

This is a dream come true!

I don’t know how he did it, but he is truly amazing.

I hold both my hands over my heart, which is contorting inside my chest. Why does knowing Dima cares feel so damn painful? Because I still can’t have him?

Yes. Exactly. I don’t want to open the door to this pain again.

I know I should go up to the penthouse to thank him personally. But I’m not ready to see him. Not without it tearing my heart out. I still love him too much. So much it burns to be near him. To relive his denial of me.

Of us.

I’ll give it some time. Get myself together.

Maybe I’ll write an old-fashioned thank you note and mail it to him.

I open the blinds in my bedroom and something different about the view makes me pause.

I gasp. A giant banner is hanging on the building across the way at exactly the same level as my window.

In huge, red capital letters, it reads, I LOVE YOU, NATASHA. My stomach surges up to my throat. What? Below it, in a script, it says, You are my everything.

I cover my mouth with my hand as a flood of emotion threatens to knock me over. Love, grief, laughter, tears—it all rushes out at once.

“Dima!” I gasp.

What is this? Is he saying he does want me? A lump grows in my throat.

“Natasha!” my mother calls from the living room.

My tummy flutters. I guess there’s no keeping this from her now. I steel myself. But when I come out, she’s looking out a different window—one that faces the lake.

“What is it?” I ask.

“What does that sign say?” she demands, pointing.

“What sign?”

“There’s a plane with a sign. What does it say?”

I stand beside my tiny but fierce mother. Sure enough, a tiny plane loops around near the shoreline, carrying a banner behind it that reads, I love you, Natasha.

“Mama,” I murmur, unable to stop the tears.

“Who did this?” My mother turns, looking elated. “Alex?”

“Not Alex. Dima.”

“Dima?” Her smile fades. “From upstairs?”

My spine straightens, and I lift my chin. “Yes. He’s a good person,” I say defensively. “He’s fiercely loyal, and he loves deeply. He would do anything for the people he loves.”

My mother stares at me, eyes wide. “You’re… seeing this man? He is bratva.”

“I know.” I draw a breath. Until this moment, I was still holding back. Still protecting my heart from getting torn to shreds again. But the act of convincing my mom makes me realize that Dima is worth risking everything for.

Worth trying again.

Without any more explanation, I grab the keycard to get to the penthouse and walk out to the elevator.

As it surges upward, my heart pounds in my temples, my wrists, my throat.

I’m terrified and certain at the same time. I’ve never wanted anything more, and yet I can’t take any more heartache, either.

The elevator stops at the top and the doors slide open.

“Dima.”

He’s standing there, waiting for me. He knew I was coming. Of course he did—that’s his job.

I stumble out of the elevator straight into him. After a split second of surprise, his arms bind around me, and he holds me as tightly as he did at the parking garage.

“Natasha,” he murmurs. “Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart. You’re all that matters to me. I know it didn’t seem that way.”

“No,” I speak against the soft cotton of his black shirt. “It did. But you also kept pushing me away.”

“Never again,” he swears “I’m all in with you now, amerikanka. If you’ll have me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll tell you about Alyona now. But only if you want. Whatever you want.” His lips are in my hair, his hands stroking up and down my back. “I’m yours, Natasha. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready before, but I am now.”

I lift my face from his chest and pull his head down to mine, claiming his mouth.

He lets me kiss him for a moment, then he takes over, grasping the back of my head and angling his face to deepen the kiss. His tongue slips between my lips, dancing with mine. He pulls away and brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek.

I realize the little ring is gone from his pinkie finger. I pull his fingers away to be sure.

“You took it off.”

He nods. “I said goodbye and left it in the woods where we saw the doe.”

I kiss his fingers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He laces his fingers through mine. “It was a long time ago. I just didn’t know how to move on until you kneed me in the balls.”

“I never did that,” I say with a smile.

“No.” His eyes are warm as he cradles my face. “You were always kind. I was the asshole. Can I… will you…” He stabs his fingers through his air with a rueful smile. “I don’t have a clue how to do this. May I take you on a date?”

I laughed. “A date?”

He winces. “It’s backward, isn’t it? I’ve already sucked you dry without giving a thing in return. But...I’d like to remedy that. Can we start over? Go to dinner? Get married? Have little redheaded babies?” He tilts his head to catch my gaze. “Too soon for that?”

Warmth curls everywhere in my body and tiny explosions of joy burst in my chest. He wants me. He’s all in. “A little.” I bring my hands to his chest, leaning into him. “How did you get me into naturopathy school?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Fair enough.” I smile.

“Are you going to go?”

I catch my breath. Am I? I just found out the guy I’m crazy about wants to be with me. Is it really the right time to move away for four years?

As if he guesses at my hesitation, he covers both my hands. “If you’re worried about us, we’d figure it all out—no problem. Of all of Ravil’s men, I’m the only one perfectly able to work remotely.”

He said us. There’s an us.

I still can’t believe it.

“Ever since Ravil broke the bratva code to marry Lucy, all the brotherhood or death rules seem to have gone out the window. He just let Pavel go to be with his girlfriend in L.A.. Maxim has a wife. Oleg’s girlfriend lives with us.” Dima shrugs. “I don’t see why I couldn’t move out, too.”

I beam at him, wings flapping in my chest. “You’d come with me? Really?”

“Natasha, I’m all in. I want to be with you—any way you’ll have me.”

I try to imagine what it would be like to have Dima with me at naturopathy school. Coming home to him typing away on his computer in the living room. Watching movies. Cooking together. I couldn’t imagine anything better.

“One more question—what happened to my student loans?”

I brace myself, afraid to hear he committed a felony in my name, but he touches my nose and says, “I just paid them off with my savings. I figured you’d want me to go legit with them.”

“Wow. Thank you,” I breathe. “I hope you don’t think you’ve bought me now.” I don’t mean it. He had me at date. Paying off my forty thousand dollars worth of student loans will definitely buy me—body and soul.

He cups my nape and massages it. “I plan on working my ass off to prove what you mean to me—any way I can.”

My eyelashes get damp. “You already have.”

“Come here.” Dima scoops me up into his arms and carries me toward his bedroom.

I loop my arms around his neck, laughing. “Where are we going?”

“I need to taste you.” His eyes darken.

“I need to taste you back,” I murmur as he pushes open the door.