TAKING OVER TROFIM (Dominion of Brothers series Book 4) (18 page)

“What are you doing?” Shay’s groggy voice muttered from his pillow.

Trofim frowned, dropping his head to the pillow with a sigh, “I wish I had counted them before I left.”

“Why?” Shay didn’t even open his eyes, which meant he was a little annoyed by Trofim’s inspection.

“Are there new ones?”

He let out a long sigh, “No.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me about it if there were, would you?”

Shay pushed up from his pillow, rolling back onto his side until he was facing Trofim. Although Trofim wasn’t sure what the expression was looking back at him. “When have I ever lied to you?”

That alone made Trofim feel like shit, but while Shay may not have ever lied, he had withheld. “Then tell me what happened.”

“I refused to kiss Sarah in front of all his friends—”

“No. I mean when I left five years ago. You said he took all your money, but you didn’t say how or why. Or what else he did.”

Shay took Trofim’s hand in his, pulling it up to his lips and kissed his palm, then placed it to his cheek were it belonged. “It doesn’t matter what he did to me anymore. You’re back and we’re together again.”

Trofim didn’t give up, his fingers curling into the tufts of hair over Shay’s ears to soften the blow of his interrogation. But he knew it was going to take some digging. As far as Shay was concerned as long as they were together, there was nothing wrong with the world, he had no past and no tyrant of a father trying to control him. Those monsters only existed if he was alone and unhappy. But with Trofim at his side, Shay saw himself as invincible. Trofim couldn’t even touch such beliefs inside himself, he couldn’t even envy that one because inside he was an emotional mess. And the worst of it was fearing what Shay had suffered. “But how did you pay for the last five years of medical school if he took it all?”

Shay let out a hard frustrated sigh, but something in him caved. A little at least. “My grades were excellent enough and my credit was still good. So I took out a couple of student loans. Enough to pay for the remaining years in full. After about a year or so dad started divvying out an allowance. Enough for me to start making a few monthly payments on the loans.” Shay pulled him in, closing his arms around his love and tucked Trofim’s head under his chin, “That’s all there is to tell, baby, end of story. It’s just you and me, and our future from now on.”

Trofim fell quiet as Shay fell back to sleep, but he knew there had to have been more to it. After Shay had gotten out of the house and into college he had been far from easy for his father to control. Wilks had to have done something horrific to get Shay under such tight reins again. It was more than frustrating that Shay wouldn’t talk about what happened, it frightened Trofim, because he already knew what Mr. Wilks had done to him and his own family.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Trofim got the call from Pyotr that afternoon, along with strict instructions of what was expected of him to make up for the missed practice. Luckily for him, a few of the other guys from the crew held mid and late evening practices, so he wasn’t forced to drill on his own.

After a light lunch he tossed on a jogging suit and headed out. It was a four mile jog to the boathouse, but it would make for a good warm up and he was under orders anyway. Darko was already there setting up. “Did you miss the morning too?”

Darko shot him a smirk, “No, but I have a higher competition group to run against, so after filling in with the team for your spot, I grabbed lunch, and now back for my solo run.

Trofim grimaced, he knew what that meant. “Sorry, Darko.”

Darko stepped up and looked at him, grabbing Trofim’s shoulder to nudge him to look up, “You okay?”

Trofim was ready to spill to him, but he hadn’t forgotten how angry Darko had gotten because neither he nor Pyotr had warned him that Shay was back in his life. So he didn’t figure now was a good time for that. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.” He at least offered.

Darko’s hand dropped and he sucked in a frustrated breath then gave a sniffle against the wind that whipped around them, “Yeah, well—” his words died off and he bent over snatching up his gloves and slapped them against his other hand as he stepped for the scull he had sitting on the edge of the dock waiting on him. “By the way, the Norton out back is for you.”

“Me? Why? I thought that was Cliff’s bike.”

Darko shrugged, as he grabbed the set of oars and swung one around to lock into its rigging, then set the other as it draped over the deck. “I had it back at the shop for repairs and Pyotr told me to give it to you. He said if you were going to be spending more time with—” Darko let the name drop off before continuing, “Well, he said you needed wheels.” Darko stopped and pulled his leather, fingerless gloves on. One, then the other, decidedly avoiding looking at his little brother while he reined in his personal anger issues before finally looking up at Trofim. “I know you love him. And I know he loves you. But, Benjamin Wilks is a dangerous man with a whole lot of connections. So you better get some fighting power on your side before he comes for you. Again. And he
will
come.”

“But, how do I protect us from him?” Trofim nearly whimpered the request.

Darko knelt down and dipped his scull into the water then held it steady while he glanced over his shoulder at Trofim, “I don’t know, Trofim. But maybe Trenton can help. He’s the only one I know who might.” He eased the shell away from the dock then took a careful step out, one foot in, one foot still on the dock’s edge. He balanced his weight then with a slight kick off, he was in the boat and lowering himself down in the seat. Darko took hold of the oar handles and worked them into proper alignment in the rigging. He glanced up with a concerned expression, “I wouldn’t wait long!” Darko called out to Trofim, then dipped the oar blades into the river and pulled off.

“Well, if it isn’t our little love-flipped teammate.” A hand clapped Trofim on the shoulder and he turned seeing Quintin and the rest of the second-8 crew piling out on the dock, “Finally took your cock out of your boyfriend to come play with your other mates for a bit?”

Trofim let out a laugh, “It’s hard.”

The laugh roared from Quentin as they both caught onto Trofim’s unintentional pun, “Come on. Let’s get you on one of the machines. I want to take a look at your form before we hit the water.”

“My form is fine.” Trofim scoffed mutely. His retort was quickly made invalid when the 2
^nd
captain scooped up one of Trofim’s hands and ran his thumb roughly over the banged up knuckles of his left hand making Trofim wince.

“Can’t imagine your boss being too thrilled about these. So today, we work on your form.”

The day’s workout had been good for him, if not brutal as well.

Quentin wasn’t any less drilling then Pyotr was.
The bastard
. Each man on the team had to put his share of sweat into every stroke. Like Pyotr, Quentin sat bow seat, then Tim, next was Trofim’s younger brother, Sasha, then Nathan, and then Dion. Trofim was taking the next spot, leaving Jeori taking the stroke seat and Bralick between them. Trofim normally sat behind the stroke, but Bralick wasn’t about to give up his position. Besides, it was Trofim who was hitching a seat on the other team.

Calob, Calon’s twin, was in the cox’swain and called out the slightly different chant than the one they used for their competitions. It set them into the cadence of each other, a working machine of eight sets of oars like the long legs of a centipede moving fluidly for a singular goal.
To win
. The body rebelled and the mind turned it in to energy to bear on and keep going. And somewhere in all of that, everything else in the world made sense, even if the concept was out of context. And when the drill was over, it was gone.

But some sense of design lingered in the blood. The orders had been put into the body, silent commands that would work on their own without the head’s conscious knowing of how the motions went into effect. Like the motorcycles Darko worked on or Maxum’s exotic cars. Trofim had no idea what made those machines superior to any other, he didn’t know about the fuel injectors or the titanium spark plugs or the computer programming that made sure that all eighteen pistons fired off at the precise moment necessary to make that car perform better and go faster than any machine ever built before it, all without the driver having ever known how.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Shay pulled into the open parking space in front of Trofim’s apartment building after getting off of work. He ran his hands down his face, exhausted more so than usual after staying late at the hospital. He glanced out the window to the old banged up Norton motorcycle that was chained up to the cast iron rails at the base of the steps. It took him a moment to register, but then realized it was one of Darko’s old bikes.

Darko and Trofim had always been close, but still, it was rather early in the morning for a visit. Not that Shay had the energy to put up a fuss either. The only thing on his itinerary was kiss, hug, and pass out.
And in that order
.

Inside the apartment was dark and quiet. Shay found Trofim still in bed and no sign of Darko.

He sat down on the edge of the bed just watching Trofim sleep, and felt himself nodding out already. So much for nostalgia, he thought to himself, and leaned over to plant a few kisses to the side of Trofim’s head.

“Mmmm.” Trofim mumbled rolling over to wake up. “There you are.”

“I’m home now, babe. Had a bullet to the chest come in late this morning; I stayed until he was stable.” Shay ran his hand over Trofim’s back then returned to his task of kicking off his shoes, “I saw Darko’s bike out front.”

Trofim paused in his sleep stupor, “Oh that. No, it’s for me.” He answered with hardly the attempt to open his eyes.

“Excuse me? I don’t recall having this discussion.”

“Yeah, well, Pyotr isn’t happy about me being late all the time, so they gave me the bike. This way I don’t have to rely on the bus.”

“And you didn’t think to ask how I felt about it?”

“They didn’t give me the option, Shay. I was ordered to take it just yesterday.”

Shay slumped his brows down on his face, “Well I’m not so sure I like the idea of you on a motorcycle. You could get killed.”

“We live in New York, almost everything here kills.”

Shay let out a hard huff, knowing he couldn’t argue that, but he still wasn’t too thrilled.

“It’s either the bike or break up with you. Which would you prefer?”

Shay only scowled and sat up to undress, doing so with no regards to finesse, and everything landed on the floor next to the bed. He was too tired to even toss them to the chair.

Trofim waited until Shay crawled in under the blanket next to him with open arms that quickly closed in around him and snuggled in to share the 1 or 2 hours they had before Trofim had to get up for his own day. Shay liked having these moments, though he was barely awake, and even then not for long as darkness rushed in to blanket his mind with dreamless sleep.

~  *  ~

Trofim kept curled up against Shay, and dozed back off, wrapped around his partner until perhaps an hour or so later his alarm, stuffed under his own pillow so it wouldn’t bother Shay, went off and roused Trofim up.

Shay was his usual dead-to-the-world self. However the unpleasant scowl after the news of the motorcycle never fully faded from Shay’s face.

Trofim kissed at the lines that marred Shay’s forehead then finally got up to make it to practice on time for once.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

CHAPTER TEN

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

That following Monday afternoon, Trofim decided to seek the help from the man his brother told him to go to. Darko hadn’t been the first one to mention Trenton Leos, so he took the hint and made the choice to go see him, hoping for a friend on their side. Shay would be in lectures all week, so Trofim knew he had the time.

He sat in the waiting area of Five Sources Securities trying not to gawk at Vida who sat at the reception desk. Trofim only new Vida from Club Pain, but the person he saw now was considerably different than how he remembered him. He was naturally still very feminine but without all the glamour of a drag queen. Trofim was amazed, he’d never guessed Vida worked here too and wanted to ask but didn’t. Uncertain if there was ever a way to ask such things without coming across as insulting. And given Vida’s brother was none other than Dane Masters, Trofim figured it was best to just keep quiet and mind his manners.

“Mr. Laszkovi?” Trofim looked up when Vida called him with a warm smile. “You can go in now.”

Trofim stood, but suddenly felt a bit embarrassed like he was waiting to be seen by the Dean back at school or something. “Thanks, Vida. Uhm— you look amazing by the way.” He risked the compliment as he slipped by.

“Why, thank you, Trofim, but you can just call me Vince. Vida isn’t necessary anymore.” The androgynous man, who’d just referred to himself as Vince, winked back at him.

Trofim nodded not entirely understanding, but he didn’t know Vida as well as his brother Darko did, but he knew this wasn’t the place or time to ask as he turned, and headed down the hall.

Trenton greeted him at the door of his office. A man who took your breath away and made your mouth water at the first sight of him. Trenton stood a few inches taller than himself yet the air around him made him seem like he was a titan that ruled over any dominion of men he happened to stand among, and stood handsomely as if knowing his effect on everyone. Creamy light-brown eyes looked at him as if to say —
no matter the troubles, I can take care of it
. Trofim had seen the man in action at the fetish club and was very aware of how well Dominus controlled people, so Trofim believed what those eyes told him now.

“Come in, Trofim.” An alpha arm moved out to usher Trofim towards a chair in front of his desk while he closed the door.