they had come into each other's lives.
Tahey had gotten used to Dmitry waking her up and falling asleep in his arms, and in between those, he would have found a way to make her cum several times over. And in truth, it was the times when they were making love that were her favorite part of the day because those were also the only instances when the billionaire's defenses were all down. In those moments, there was always a chance that she'd catch his lips curve, and oh, what those rare-as-unicorn flashes of his dimples would do to her.
Those dimples of his killed her every darn time, but no matter what she said or did, she just couldn't make him smile or laugh when they weren't making love.
Just give it up, the billionaire had advised her. I'm simply not the type.
But surely you weren't always like this before?
It had taken him a while to answer, and when he finally did—-
I forgot how to smile when my sister died.
His words had broken her heart, and she had thrown herself in his arms after that, hugging him so tightly that she had managed to make the billionaire grunt in pain.
I'm sorry, Dmitry. I'm so sorry. I wish there's something I could do to take your pain away.
She had tried to make him talk about his sister once. Just once, but the way his handsome face had abruptly shuttered so terrified her that she never brought it up again. She had tried asking Sasha about it instead, but when the younger Adrianov also proved to be a closed book, Tahey realized with sadness how much their half-sister's death still haunted them.
And she wished, oh if only...if only there was a way she could help them with their grief, she would gladly do it.
Anything, God. I'd gladly do anything.
And she prayed this every day, never realizing until it was too late that what she was also praying for was her own ruin.
DMITRY HAD JUST RETURNED to the office from another meeting when he found Tahey pale-faced and frozen in her desk. He went to her right away and saw that she had in her hand her iPhone, its screen revealing her call log. And the last person to call her—-
Thomas.
And in that instant, the billionaire felt his own face pale as well.
This was it, he realized dully.
His conscience had warned him that he would be punished for his betrayal, and while he had yet to know what that punishment was, Dmitry was certain - absolutely fucking certain - that the moment of his reckoning had finally come.
He forced himself to lift his gaze up to Tahey, and for once he was blind to her beauty. Blind to her kindness. And all he could see was the daughter of the man who had killed Paige.
He forced himself to speak and somehow managed to keep his voice expressionless as he asked, "What's wrong?"
Tahey swallowed hard. "It's Dad."
"He called you."
She nodded.
"He said something to upset you?"
"I don't actually know how to feel yet."
Dmitry had an urge to give Tahey a violent shake and barely managed to control himself. He focused instead on holding on to his patience, knowing full well that losing his temper on Tahey would only make her less inclined to talk.
Pulling himself up, he crossed the room to take a bottle of whiskey out of the minibar. He poured a small amount into a shot glass and handed it to Tahey. "Drink."
Tahey wasn't much into alcohol, but this time she willingly drank the whole thing, its vile taste more than compensated by the burning sensation that followed right after. It made her feel warm when she had been feeling icy cold, and gradually, she could feel her shock receding and her brain start functioning again.
She looked up, intending to thank Dmitry, but instead she heard herself say unevenly, "C-Can I talk about him?"
His clipped nod wasn't the kind of response she would've expected, and at any other time, this might have hurt her and make Tahey wonder if something was wrong. But because she was still so lost in the past, Tahey was just relieved to have a chance to unburden herself.
"He was a good dad," Tahey whispered. "I know I keep saying that, and I know saying that probably makes things worse for...for those he...for those he k-killed, but I can't make myself lie. He was a good dad to me. A g-great dad. He could've gone to pieces when my mom died