Be Still, My Heart, page 1
Be Still, My Heart
By Holly Day
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2021 Holly Day
ISBN 9781646566846
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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Gabi Cervenka, Leonie Duncan, Jean Malherbe, and Susana Perez—I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Thank you for all the help.
This story is for Shauna. When the pandemic hit in early 2020, I asked some of my readers to wish for elements they wanted to see in a story, Shauna asked for a character who was either deaf or blind. I meant to write that, I really did, but instead we got a guy missing part of his leg. So, sorry, but here you go, LOL!
* * * *
Be Still, My Heart
By Holly Day
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Dimitri Petrov blew out a breath. Sweat beaded on his skin. The walls of the swanky lobby crept closer and closer. He wanted to be at home, preferably in his storm cellar, and not see another soul for days.
The click of high heels came closer and closer. He knew it was heels and not gunshots—he was almost certain. For a second, the walls turned into sand dunes.
“Dimitri?”
He jerked as Irina placed a hand on his shoulder. Reflex had him reaching for his gun that wasn’t there. Taking a deep breath, he tried to disguise how his hand had gone for an imaginary gun by straightening his shirt. “Yes?”
“Has my two o’clock called? He’s late.”
He shook his head. “No, no one has called.” He didn’t think. Would he miss a phone ringing? No, he wouldn’t.
Irina frowned. “If he shows, send him to my office.”
He nodded as the sound of her heels grew fainter and fainter. He filled his lungs and tried to relax his muscles.
There was a man hurrying down the sidewalk.
Dimitri’s skin grew tight as he observed him. He could have hidden a weapon under his jacket. It was too thin for the cold February afternoon, and Dimitri had been taught to notice anything unusual. Clothes not sufficient for the weather were unusual. It didn’t look like he was hiding a bomb under it, but he could be. Dimitri had been taken by surprise before. The ones you least expected could pose the biggest threat.
Sliding his hand toward his right side where his gun should be, he jumped when the man opened the glass door and more or less ran into the lobby.
Dimitri shot to his feet, his right leg not acting as it should, and not until he looked down to see if something had caught on his pants, did he remember he didn’t have a foot anymore. The prosthesis started underneath his knee.
“Hi!” The man gave him a dazzling smile, which stunned him. For a second, he could not move, unable to talk.
“Hello. How can I help you?”
The man unzipped his jacket, and Dimitri once again reached for the gun that wasn’t there.
“I need a date for Valentine’s Day.” The man rolled his eyes, revealing a purple shirt with a million tiny flowers as he unzipped his jacket all the way.
“Ah, okay.” Dimitri forced his muscles to unclench and sat on the chair. “Are you the two o’clock with Irina?” Irina, his sister, ran this snobbish matchmaking agency. He was the only man working here, and it was because he was her brother and he wouldn’t leave the house unless he had a job he had to go to. It would’ve been better for business if she’d had a beautiful woman greeting their clients rather than a grumpy, rugged, military vet, and Dimitri would’ve preferred if she did. But life never turned out the way you planned it, and she insisted he was the man for the job. He wasn’t.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
The man shrugged. “No, I think I’d have remembered if I’d made an appointment, but you never know. Stranger things have happened.”
Dimitri got trapped in his sparkling blue eyes—there was so much going on in them. “You…erm…don’t know if you would’ve remembered?” Perhaps he had brain damage? Disability wasn’t always visible at first glance—he should know.
The man leaned against the counter, chuckling softly, which poked at something dormant in Dimitri’s chest. “I said I think I would’ve remembered.” His gaze turned warmer, if a gaze could, and when he spoke again it was in a lower, calmer tone. “I need a Valentine’s date. I want a big, strong man. A man who can slam me against the wall and have his way with me.”
Dimitri went cold. “No, you don’t.”
“I do. It’s a fantasy of mine.”
“You don’t. It might be a fantasy, but you’d want him to slam you gently against the wall, then take a second to check you’re okay before he proceeds. You don’t want to be helpless and unable to get away.”
The man frowned, the sparkle in his eyes died, and Dimitri regretted his words. Memories of a former life flashed before him, memories from before Afghanistan, from when he’d been an ordinary man.
It had been a few days after He and Cody had broken up. He’d gone to the bar, intending to get shitfaced and to hook up with someone who was the exact opposite of Cody. When a big, burly man had shown an interest, he’d encouraged it, despite aching from the loss of the taste of Cody’s lip gloss, missing his swishy hand-gesturing, and the way he danced around the apartment whenever he was in a good mood.
It could’ve been so much worse. Dimitri would never forget the helplessness swamping him when he’d been pinned to the wall in a dark alley near the bar, the panic as his jeans pooled around his legs. He hadn’t fought, had allowed it to happen, he had led the man on after all. After that he’d enlisted. Mostly because he wanted to get military training, but also—he’d never wanted to feel that helpless again.
Life didn’t always turn out the way you planned.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” The lightness had been sucked out of the room.
The man shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not into rape. But I’m turned on by big, strong men. Like you.” He winked.
Dimitri stared, and something shifted in his chest, but it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t the man this person was looking for. He was tall and physically strong, his military training never having washed off no matter how many hours he’d spent in the shower, but he wasn’t strong mentally anymore. “We, eh…only have women.”
“Oh.” The man scrunched his face. “All right, it doesn’t matter. Give me a woman. I want a short, plump one with an interesting mind.”
Dimitri breathed in through his nose. “Eh…we don’t…We don’t list appearances, and erm…I don’t think we list whether their minds are interesting or not either. It’s one of those things that differs from person to person, right? What you find interesting.”
Those impossibly blue eyes searched his. “You’re right. How ignorant of me to think what I find interesting is the same thing you find interesting.” He pursed his lips. “What do you find interesting in a woman?”
“I…eh…am not a people person.”
The man barked a laugh. “Me either, hence my coming here for a date. Okay, I don’t care if she’s interesting or not, but please don’t give me one of those who look fit for the catwalk. I want her to be shorter than me, and I like a person who enjoys a good meal. Can I pick her up at six-thirty on the fourteenth? Or maybe we should make it six, so we aren’t late. She needs to be in a dress; it’s a formal dress code.” He scrunched his face again.
“Erm…I think you’ve misunderstood what we do.” They helped people find their true match, or, it was what the flyers claimed. “We don’t set people up with dates. It’s not an escort service.”
The man widened his eyes, took a step back, and looked around. “Where’s your sign? I could’ve sworn I read date somewhere on it.”
“Look…What’s your name?”
The man neared the counter again. “Elian Hubert.” He grinned and offered Dimitri his hand. Dimitri shook it, mostly because of this man’s odd behavior, and he didn’t know what else to do. Elian had long, slim fingers, not a callus in sight.
“I can write you down for an appointment with one of our matchmakers.”
Elian frowned. “What good would it do? I’m
“We’re here to help you find your true match, your soulmate.”
Elian rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for a soulmate. I need a date for one night—one. It’s to make me look good.” He popped his hip out and made a swishy motion with his hand.
“I would look better next to a big strong man, but a woman will do. I’m not paying for sex, it’s a dinner date.”
Dimitri blinked, unable to decide if he should be offended or laugh. “This is not a bordello. Men come to us to find a wife or a steady girlfriend. They go through a lot of…screening.” It was a million questions. Dimitri had seen the forms. “And our dating agents find them the best match and then set them up on a date.”
Elian rolled his eyes again. “Look. Do you want to go on a date with me?”
Dimitri couldn’t breathe. A date? He hadn’t been on a date in years. Hadn’t touched a person other than doctors and nurses in longer than he could remember. He would avoid crowds for as long as he lived. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“I’m not a whore.” He kept a stony expression on his face, but part of him was amused by this vibrant creature being willing to pay him to go on a date.
Elian sighed. “I didn’t mean that you’d have to sleep with me.”
“But you want to pay me to dress up nice for you and act as arm candy.” He gestured at himself. “I’m not a pretty man.”
Elian’s eyes widened. “I beg to differ.”
“I’m not dating material.” Dimitri crossed his arms over his chest. He should stop talking.
“I’m not asking you to date me for more than one night.” Elian placed his hands on the counter and leaned in closer.
Dimitri narrowed his eyes. “What kind of date are we talking about?” He wouldn’t go.
“I wrote this—” He waved his hands, “—thing. And now they want me to speak at a dinner.”
Dimitri blinked. “You wrote a thing?”
“I teach history of literature at the university.” He motioned in the direction of the old stone building that had always fascinated Dimitri, but where he’d never dared set foot. He didn’t think of himself as stupid, but he wasn’t cut out for academics. Especially not now.
“And I wrote this piece for a magazine; it’s about love through time. They published it and, apparently, some know-it-all deemed it interesting and invited me to talk about it.”
“That’s great. Congratulations.”
Panic shone in Elian’s eyes as he shook his head. “No, I made it up.”
“What?”
“I…I’ve read a lot of books, you know, and in the old ones there is this pining, letter writing, rules—but in contemporary literature there’s a drunken text, a hook-up in an alley, or a werewolf fucking a zombie in a graveyard.”
Dimitri spluttered. Elian clearly read other books than he did.
Elian grinned. “I still haven’t found the last one, but I’m sure it’s out there.”
“So you didn’t write about zombies?”
“I can’t remember what I wrote.” He widened his eyes. “Which is why I don’t have time to find a date, I need to spend the following days coming up with something to support my theory. If I have a theory.” He shook his head. “It was a night of too much wine and a reverse harem, Mpreg erotica book.”
Dimitri looked around, hoping no one was listening to them. “I know what erotica is, but the rest…I have no idea what those mean.”
“Neither did I.” His chuckle did funny things to Dimitri’s heart. “So, can I pick you up at six?”
Shaking his head, Dimitri took a step back. “I don’t do well in crowds.” His hand slowly slid down to where his gun should have been.
Elian shrugged. “It’s okay. They won’t expect any date of mine to act normal. You can hide behind a curtain, as long as you walk into the hall by my side. I need people to see us arrive and preferably leave together.”
“Why do you need a plus one?”
Elian waved his hand. “I told everyone I had a partner who’d come with me.” He shrugged. “It was a stupid spur-of-the-moment thing. A colleague of mine, a real dick, made some snide comments, and I sort of made up a boyfriend to shut him up.”
“Aren’t you a bit…old to make up boyfriends?” Dimitri winced. He didn’t mean to imply Elian was old, but he wasn’t some twenty-year-old needing to impress his friends.
Elian waved the fingers of his left hand. “You’d think! Apparently, forty-two isn’t the age when I grow into a responsible adult.”
Forty-two? Dimitri would’ve guessed thirty-five, thirty-seven at the most. He was thirty-four and looked far older than Elian did—or maybe it was his state of mind making him think he looked forty-four instead of thirty-four. Age didn’t matter, though. Dimitri had seen twenty-year-olds blown to pieces, and they scattered around in the same patterns fifty-year-olds did.
“Hey, where did you go?” Elian reached for him across the counter, but Dimitri took a step back to avoid contact.
“I can’t…I can’t go on a date.”
Elian’s face softened. “That’s too bad. I would’ve loved for you to be my date. So will you have one of your girls ready for me on the fourteenth? At six P.M.”
Dimitri shook his head. “No, sorry. We’re not that kind of place.”
Elian’s shoulder slumped. “You don’t know where I can find that kind of place, do you?”
“You want to bring a prostitute to a dinner where you’ll make a speech about love through time?”
“Not a good idea?”
Dimitri was shocked to hear himself chuckle. He had no idea when he last had. “I think it’s a bit…ironic probably isn’t the word I’m searching for, but you know.” He shrugged.
“Yeah.” Elian grimaced. “Do you have any strapping friends who wouldn’t mind going on a date with a flaming queer?”
Dimitri frowned. He didn’t like the way Elian’s face twisted as he spoke those words. “Sorry.”
“Ah, it’s not the first time I’ll arrive on my own after having said I’d have a plus one. Seems more tragic when the theme is love, but I’ll live.” He shrugged, and Dimitri wanted to offer to be his date, but…
“Thank you for the chat, young man.”
“Dimitri. Dimitri Petrov.”
Elian raised an eyebrow. “It suits you.”
“It does?” Nothing suited him anymore, not even his own skin.
“Yes. You’re strong and capable, and Dimitri is a strong name.”
Dimitri gave him a skeptical look. “I’m not, at least not anymore.”
“Ah…” Elian nodded. “I won’t argue with you, but the way we view ourselves isn’t always the way others see us.”
Dimitri nodded. He was sure everyone was aware of him being a wreck, but he wouldn’t argue either.
“It was lovely talking to you, Dimitri. Refreshing.” He zipped up his jacket, and Dimitri frowned.
“Refreshing how?”
“Well, we’ve been talking for several minutes, and while I’m sure you’ve figured out I’m not exactly sane, you haven’t called me on it. You haven’t insulted me, have uttered no snide comments, haven’t put me down for misunderstanding what it is you do, and you haven’t reacted at all to me flirting with you. I mean, most tough guys would have snarled by now.”
Dimitri stopped breathing for a second. “You’ve been flirting?”
Elian threw his hands in the air. “I must’ve lost my mojo.”
Dimitri huffed.
“I’ll see you around, Dimitri.”
“Sure.” He nodded, part of him wanting to stop Elian as he neared the door. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t see him again.
“I’ll drop by and flirt with you some more another day.” He waved and exited the door.
Chapter 2
The next day, the phone on Dimitri’s desk rang seconds after he showed a twenty-something man—who’d looked at him as if he was a cockroach stomping through his living room—to Hina for his appointment. He had to bite his lip not to apologize to her for bringing the brat, but Hina could take care of herself.
She was a stunning, tough as nails Japanese woman. Like him and Irina, her family had been in the country for generations, but people took one look at them and deemed them Russian or Japanese—Dimitri didn’t care, people could think what they wanted.
