a long time now. But I knew we had to be friends first. She’s not going to do me wrong.”
His dad grunted a laugh. “Not my worry.” He switched to Russian, which Vic knew was his dad’s emotional language. “She is fragile and yet resilient. That draws you. You are easy to laugh. Easy to lend a hand. But she is not easygoing. She comes with heartache and sadness.”
“So do I,” Vic said.
His dad nodded again. “It’s why you two are drawn together. You want to fix things. Make people happy. You always have. Our little sunshine child, your mother says. But here, with your Rachel, you can’t fix what’s broken with her. You have to live with that and so does she.”
Hard, he understood, to sit by when someone you cared about dealt with the sort of pain Rachel toted around.
“One step at a time. First dinner and maybe a movie.”
“Tell me, why now?”
There wasn’t any judgment in his dad’s tone. His parents liked the Dolan sisters a great deal. But he wanted to understand. Which is why Vic had brought it up, because he knew his dad would give him good advice and a pep talk that might or might not include an actual kick to the seat of his pants.
Just in case, Vic always kept a safe distance for escape.
He told his father about the scene he’d witnessed at Rachel’s house just a few days prior. Explained how he’d felt, how much he’d wanted to burn things down to protect her, even as he’d admired her strength and spirit when she stood up for herself and her sister.
“I just knew I wanted her to be mine. I looked at her and she was hurting and it meant something to me. I wanted to fix it. Assure her she was everything her father told her she wasn’t.” And because she’d let him stay to witness the whole scene, it had also felt like she’d opened the door up into a far closer and more intimate relationship.
His father glowered. He adored Maybe with all her vibrant color and noise. Every time she came over to his parents’ place, his dad would brighten. They’d already begun to see her as a daughter and had definite opinions about how the Dolans treated their children.
He stabbed a finger in the air before he put his tea aside and began to work. “I don’t like those people. How they upset their daughters!”
What’d been revealed during that terrible scene was very private. But he knew Maybe would be all right with him talking to his family about it. He told his father about how Rachel and Maybe’s dad blamed their youngest daughter for being repeatedly sexually propositioned and stalked by one of his coworkers. Told him about how devastated Rachel had been that her sister had been so abused and hurt. The guilt he knew she would never let go because she hadn’t protected Maybe.
His father cursed a long stream in Russian. Not loud. No, when Pavel Orlov got pissed, he got quiet. He bellowed when he was happy instead.
Vic merely nodded at his father before continuing. “They want to control Rachel. Take away something she needs to make her dependent on them. If they succeed in taking her freedom, we’ll fight for her. She can’t be caged.” She’d been at the mercy of someone else when she’d been kidnapped and Vic knew she’d break if it happened again.
“You make sure she gets the papers to protect herself,” his dad told him.
“She’s supposed to call Seth to get his advice.” Seth was his cousin Cristian’s fiancé. He was a cop with the Seattle Police Department so he had good information and given the way Seth was, he’d walk her through the process. “I’m making her brunch later on today so I’ll make sure she does it then.”
“You be careful too. The father is dangerous. It would be good if they leave Maybe alone now. It’s Rachel they want. But if they can’t get it...”
Richie Dolan had a temper. One laced with threat and menace and Vic didn’t like it at all. He was the type of man who probably bumped shoulders with other men to assert some sort of dominance.
Vic didn’t underestimate that threat. But he damned sure bet Dolan underestimated his children and their resilience.
“I am. I promise,” Vic assured his dad.
RACHEL STOOD IN her closet, looking at her clothes. Annoyance warred with delight. It’d been a while since she’d dressed up for a man for more than just a few weeks of sex and then moving on. That was easy. A mask, a costume that spelled out the limits and boundaries of the interaction.
Sexy in a generic sense.
But Vic wasn’t some dude she’d bounced on a while. He was someone she knew and liked. Someone who came over to her house on a regular basis. A guy who’d seen some of her most private stuff aired out.
God. She shouldn’t do anything with him. Just stay friends. If they started something and it went bad it would be awkward. And she really liked the Orlovs and his cousin was living in her house, sullying up her sister. Gah!
So much energy buzzed just under her skin. Had been since she’d gotten out of bed and tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal that he was coming over and making her food and giving her a ride and being all helpful and nurturing and it was really insanely hot and comforting and he was sexy. So sexy and he wanted her. Her!
“Going off the rails here,” she murmured to herself.
Of course she was naturally going to try to talk herself out of getting into anything romantic with him. It was dumb and risky, just as she’d reminded herself.
And of course she was going to do it anyway.
He made her dizzy and sort of sappy and dumb and really horny. She wanted to see what it would be like. To have something with him, to give the zing a chance. She wanted to let herself feel all this really good stuff.
* * *
BY THE TIME he showed up at her door she’d managed to get the eyeliner on both sides into pretty respectable wings and given the goofy look on his face when he checked out her tits, the choice of the snug T-shirt she’d worn over a long-sleeved Henley was a good one.
“Hi.” He smiled at her, all gorgeous teeth framed by his beard. Sometimes she let her cheek brush it when he hugged her. And she wondered what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of her neck. Or the inside of her thighs.
Holding up an armful of packages, he thrust a huge bouquet of flowers at her. “I bring food and flowers in tribute.”
Rachel took them, pausing to breathe in the scent of the pink-tipped cream-toned roses he’d given her.
“Good morning.” She stepped back to let him come inside, taking a surreptitious sniff of him as he passed.
Yum.
She led him into the kitchen, where he began to unpack the haul he’d brought. Trying not to show how giddy she was that he’d brought her such pretty flowers, she made busy with trimming the stems and arranging them in a vase she placed in the center of the kitchen table.
“Thank
