Chapter 77 Your First
Chapter 77 Your First
Gianna
“I’m really sorry Dima sweetie, you know if it was up to me I wouldn’t be in New York if it wasn’t urgent. Please don’t be mad at me pookie bear.”
I stare at the text, and then back at a sleeping Dmitry.
Dima sweetie? Pookie bear!??? He didn’t mention anything about this woman who—
I thought he disliked pet names? Great to know Rhonda isn’t his only woman.
Goodness, the idea of smothering him with a pillow feels so good right now.
“Why are you up baby?” His gruff sleepy voice fills my ears and I shut my eyes, letting it engulf me for a split second before handing over his phone.
“Your phone woke me up.”
His eyes crack open, blinking slowly before glancing on his phone in my outstretched hand. His face contorts, a mix of fear or is it confusion?
He sits up slowly and takes the phone, he hesitates a bit before reading it, a faint smile curves around his lips then it twists into a thin line.
He sets the phone face down on the nightstand, and exhales through his nose.
One day. One fucking day where Dmitry doesn’t have a secret that could break us that’s all I ask.
“Who’s she?” I ask, already tired of the back and forth. It is freaking 3 a.m and here I was asking a man who another woman is to him.
Whenever you hype up a man he just shows you why you shouldn’t.
“Her name is Candace.”
I roll my eyes, fucking convenient, ask one thing and they answer another.
“I didn’t ask her name, I asked who she was and why the fuck does she get to call you pet names, pookie.”
He grimaces at my use of the nickname and shakes his head. “She’s just pulling my legs, it’s nothing.”
I stare him dead in the eyes. “Dima sweetie.”
“Gianna—”
“Pookie bear, Dmitry.” I pull the sheet back and get out of the bed because I need to be standing for whatever this is. “I just told you yesterday that I love you. Yesterday. And I wake up to—” I gesture at the phone. “Who is she.”
He runs both hands through his hair. He looks like a man who has been dreading this specific conversation and has just run out of time.
“She’s someone from Toronto,” he says.
“That’s not even a clear answer.”
“I know.” He meets my eyes. “We were— she’s a family friend and one of my closest friends while I was in Toronto, that’s all.”
I look at him for a long moment. “A friend like Rhonda or just a friend?”
“Definitely not like Rhonda, it’s different wayyyyy different.”
Quite enthusiastic, “different how?”
He looks down, then up and down at his fingers staying quiet.
“Dmitry.” My voice comes out very even. “Different how.”
“Baby, Candace is just a friend that’s all. Formal friend if you may.”
“What does formal friend even mean?”
I know I’m overthinking this but with Dmitry you can never know and I’m tired of different people from different times in his life popping up every three winters.
He looks at me with a scared expression, as if picking out his words carefully.
“She made living in Canada worth it, and we had a little relationship. It was fake though, we needed to get our family off our backs. That’s all.”
“A relationship,” I say, goodness.
“A fake relationship, kitten,” he corrects carefully.
“So your fake girlfriend is on her way here, why?”
“Not sure.”
I look at the ceiling, my feet, the floor, and then the phone facedown on the nightstand and think about what in the heavens Dmitry did and didn’t do while he was away.
“How long,” I say.
“Three years? Maybe four? I really can’t remember. It was just a random suggestion that we ran with and it ended the minute I stepped back in New York.”
Jesus Christ. What wasn’t the guy hiding?
“So basically your entire stay there.” I turn this over. “So you came back here, to me while i don’t know, your girlfriend was back in Toronto waiting on you?”
Dmitry looks at me like I’m saying gibberish, eyes squinting. “Fuck no. Candace is well aware of you, and our relationship was non-existent. Just two friends easing the minds of their family. That’s it.”
I watch him carefully, I can’t put a finger on it but I feel he’s lying straight to me. There’s no doubt about it. Either that or he’s hiding something from me.
“You expect me to believe that? God Dmitry, you accused me of using you and Kevin but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“Gianna—”
“That’s what you do,” I say, and my voice is very quiet now which means I am very angry. “And I can’t help but feel you’re hiding more about this matter than you’re letting on, I can feel it here,” I point a finger to my chest. “Please tell me, is there more? Does she have your child?”
He looks at me and bursts into a fit of laughter. “Definitely not, and if she has a child I’m certain it isn’t mine.”
“Promise? If you’re lying to me I won’t ever forgive you, Dmitry. Never.”
He cups my face, pulling me to him while kissing my wet cheeks. “I swear to you, baby. I’m not hiding anything from you. We are just friends.”
I sob into his chest, “Did you fuck her?”
“I’ve never fucked any woman, anyone that isn’t you, baby.”
I still against his chest. What? That night was his first time? I pull away slowly.
I look at him, for some hint of his usual teasing but it’s not there, heck he’s just looking at me like a child confessing he stole the ocean.
“That night,” I start and he nods, already knowing the night I’m talking about.
“Yes.”
“That was your—”
“Yes.”
I adjust to the edge of the, suddenly feeling nauseous and sick. And all because I remember making that night so freaking hard for him.
Idiot.
“I’m so sorry,” I say finally.
“For what?”
I shake my head. “You don’t get, I made it so unbearable for you—“
“Baby, I enjoyed everything about that night and the other nights.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask.
He sits beside me on the edge of the bed, “You had just accepted me in all my glory and I thought it’d be a one time thing and I didn’t want to pass on the opportunity.”
I stare at him.
This man. This absolute impossible man.
“Candace,” I say.
“Has never been anything. I mean that.”
But there’s something hidden in his words.
The thing is — and I hate this — I understand. I understand the difference between hiding something to control someone and hiding something because you’re ashamed of the state of it. I understand it because I did the same thing with the GirlGoneWild account for months.
“If you say so but when she’s here no pet names.”
“I never encouraged them.”
“I don’t care. They stop.”
“Agreed.”
I lie back down. I pull the sheet up. He is still sitting on the edge of the bed like he’s not sure if he’s allowed back in it.
“Come here, pookie,” I say flatly.
He chuckles, sending a hot sensation down my body. Fuck.
He lies back down, his arms finding my waist.
“You know, I need more credit for being your first,” I mutter to no one in particular.
“Go to sleep, Gianna.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Go to sleep.”