DAHLIA WESTBROOKE
Two gentle knocks on my door put a halt to my preparations for dinner, and I quickly rose from my vanity chair, rushing to the door to twist the knob open.
"Oh." The soft exclamation escaped my lips when I almost faceplanted with a broad chest I'd recognize anywhere. I took a step backward, holding onto the door to keep the tiny barrier between us. "Tarasov. How may I help you?"
He appeared greatly amused. "That's an awfully formal way to say good evening to your husband."
"Well, is it?"
"Is it what?"
"A good evening."
"You tell me." He took a step forward, forcing me to take one backward until he was in the threshold of my bedroom. "Is it, wife?" He drawled lazily, leaning against the doorframe leisurely.
I heaved a sigh. "Are you here to flirt?"
"You call that flirting?" He laughed, and those stupid dimples popped back into his cheeks. "Ya dazhe ne nachinal, dorogaya." Ihaven't even begun, sweetheart.
I swallowed thickly, fidgeting slightly under the heavy weight of his stare. "What does that mean?"
"Aren't you a curious cat? I see you're getting all dressed up for dinner." He changed the subject swiftly. "You know you don't have to do that all the time, right? I wouldn't mind if you wore my shirt to dinner. Or breakfast."
I scoffed, turning away from him to continue what I was doing. "Just say you want to see me in your clothes. That's never happening, by the way."
"Guilty." I heard him follow me deeper into the room. "And never say never."
I plopped down on my stool, picking up my brush to continue from where I left off. "Seriously, what did you come here for?"
"My family's in town."
I paused. "That's great. But that's hardly big news. You could've waited for me to come down for dinner."
"That's the other thing. I won't be having dinner at home tonight. My cousin is hosting."
"Okay." If he was asking for permission, he didn't need it to see his family. They were family, after all. "Send my regards to them."
"Your regards?"
"What, did you think I had suddenly developed separation anxiety in the last three weeks?" I cocked a mocking brow at him over my shoulder. "I can survive for one night, Tarasov. Go see your family."
He closed the short distance between us, planting his tall frame in front of me, so I had no choice to arch my neck back to stare at him. "That wasn't what I meant."
"You didn't come here to ask for my permission?" What else could he possibly want, then?
My unasked question was answered just a second later. "I came to invite you to join us."
"Join you?"
"Mhm," he hummed, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. His finger grazed my skin slightly with the motion, and unsurprisingly, that spot burned hotly. "It's family dinner. And you're family, too, so yes."
"Oh."
I broke eye contact with him, staring down at my thighs. It was suddenly harder to breathe, and my vision got blurry as his words hit me in my chest. Family. He considered me his family.
When was the last time I'd heard that word used without malice laced underneath it, like I was some dirty secret, a poison they didn't want to stain their tongues?
Bethany and her mother weren't particularly wrong, either. I was a dirty secret, a presence that haunted the home of the otherwise perfect Brown family.
"Dahlia?"
I snapped out of the downward spiral of unpleasant memories in my head, giving Tarasov my full attention again. "Hm?"
"I want you to have dinner with my family. Will you?"
"I- yes. If you want me to," I whispered the last part, suddenly self-conscious for some reason, which didn't even make any sense. It was just dinner, for crying out loud.
He shot me an incredulous smile, barely restraining himself from shaking his head at me. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want you to."
"Then I'll come along." I fought to keep my tone neutral, hiding the excitement that lurked just underneath the surface. "You couldn't spend one dinner away from me. Separation anxiety much?"
Something in his usually neutral gaze softened, and right there and then, I knew my attempt at teasing him had failed miserably. "Perhaps," he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss on my forehead. "Dress comfortably."
In the time it had taken me to get air flowing back into my lungs, he was gone from my room, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.
Lord, help me.