Page 40 of Avenging Azalea (California Made Men #2)

Chapter

Thirty-One

FAWN

This was my first time in a limo, and it felt incredibly fancy.

The car had picked me up and then stopped at Mikhailov Enterprises for Mr. Mikhailov.

Dimitri sat across from me, but it was so long he might as well have been in another vehicle.

He was dressed in a suit that I knew from Titus’s wardrobe cost a fortune.

The watch on his wrist was encrusted with diamonds, and I’d bet every single one of those little bits of sparkle was real.

Like Titus, Mr. Mikhailov had tattoos on his fingers and hands, but unlike his son, there was something far more intense and threatening about him.

They wore the same clothes, had the same family tattoos, and even shared the same facial shape, but the look in their eyes was drastically different.

Within five seconds of getting in the car with this man, I felt trapped, like a starving thing who dared to hope and choked on the bait disguised as kindness.

All of Titus’s warnings about staying away from his family, specifically his father, rang loudly in my mind. But other than pleasantries, Mr. Mikhailov hadn’t said another word.

My imagination went off the rails as we rode in silence to the restaurant.

I kept expecting the car to head out of town, somewhere secluded, where this man could shoot and dispose of me with no witnesses.

Instead, the driver took us to the front entrance of Stoneridge.

A man was waiting to help me step out onto a red carpet when the door opened.

This was a far cry from the burgers and milkshakes that Titus and I enjoyed.

The entire situation had me glancing around for photographers like the ones that followed him and Vera around.

“Shall we?”

Dimitri was staring expectantly with his elbow out for me when I turned back toward him. My stomach turned like I was committing a mortal sin when I accepted his offer. He placed his hand over mine, and an unexplainable terror shot through my body.

“There is no need to look so scared. I don’t intend to harm you,” Dimitri whispered.

Others may have been comforted by his words, but intentions and actions were two very different things.

It didn’t help that another SUV filled with Mr. Mikhailov’s guards had been following us the entire time.

I knew from Naji that each of them was expertly trained, armed to the teeth under their well-made suits and one-hundred percent loyal to Mr. Mikhailov.

As we approached the front door, another man stepped out and held it open for us to walk through.

“Thank you,” I said, and Dimitri chuckled.

“There is no need to thank those doing their job,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but I disagree. There is a direct correlation between the productivity of those who feel oppressed and under-appreciated versus those who are appreciated and praised.”

“Is that so? Sounds like a load of crap to me,” he said.

I was going to argue more, but it seemed like a fruitless effort.

“Good evening, Mr. Mikhailov. It’s lovely to see you again. I’ve reserved your table,” the ma?tre de said. It was obvious he was a regular, maybe even the entire family. When we stepped into the dining area, my adrenaline spiked, and the unease crept higher.

I’d worn my best dress, which happened to be one that Steph had helped me pick out. It was a dark emerald green that stopped at my knees and had a modest neckline. The looks shot my way from around the room had me looking down to make sure I hadn’t accidentally put on a paper bag.

We were escorted to a booth in the far corner, and as I slid in, tucked out of sight, the nervous shaking settled. Two of Mr. Mikhailov’s guards had followed us inside and were now near the bar. If they were trying to look like they fit in, they were failing miserably.

“This is lovely,” I said, picking up the menu and almost passing out from shock.

Are you fucking kidding me? There wasn’t anything, not even a salad, under a hundred dollars. What the hell did you do to a salad to have it cost that much?

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites. Order whatever you like. It’s my treat,” Dimitri said, before turning to the waiter who seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Two bottles of the red I have on hold and a whiskey neat?”

The waiter nodded and walked away without acknowledging me. If nothing else had made me uncomfortable, that certainly did.

“Fawn, I must say you look stunning this evening. You’ve certainly grown up since the last time I saw you,” he said. An old trepidation spread throughout my body like fire ants under my skin. “I can see why Titus keeps you hidden away.”

I glanced at the door and wondered how far I’d make it if I just got up and ran.

“I wouldn’t say that Titus keeps me hidden, just that we established lines when I first arrived that have remained in place.”

“I see.”

Those two seemingly innocent words sounded quite condescending.

The tone of his voice called me a liar, the arch in his eyebrow was mocking, and the way he dismissed the conversation and looked at his menu made the first sparks of anger take hold and push my anxiety to the side.

I was so sick of people treating me like I was a child in need of care, or that my opinion didn’t matter because of my social status.

I’d spent a good portion of my life surviving a hellscape that threatened to break more than my body. The rest of the time, I’d beaten down the parts of me that dared to dream and instead accepted that I would never be good enough to walk side-by-side in the same circles as Mr. Mikhailov.

For the last three years, multiple people, most notably Titus, Steph, Naji, and even Dr. Taylor, had all treated me with love, acceptance, and respect. They saw me as more. I’d denied what they said because the worthlessness had settled in my soul, but for the very first time, I believed them.

Casting off the blanket of doubt, I sat up and laid down the menu.

“Mr. Mikhailov, I agreed to this dinner in good faith. However, I’m getting the distinct impression that you were not as forthcoming with your reasons as you led me to believe.”

He met my stare like a tiger sizing up its prey.

The waiter stepped up to the table, breaking the tense moment, and filled two wine glasses. I was underage, but neither he nor Dimitri commented. Luckily, there were also ice waters on the table.

“Have you chosen an entrée?”

“I’ll have the risotto to start and the Wagyu steak special, rare,” Mr. Mikhailov said.

“Very good, and for yourself, madam?”

“I’ll have the strawberry garden salad and the vegetarian penne.”

“Both excellent choices,” he said before leaving.

The waiter didn’t write anything down, and that was a talent I envied. I would’ve forgotten both orders by the time I took two steps.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Fawn. I do have an ulterior motive for inviting you out to dinner. But before I explain, please call me Dimitri.”

Putting us on a first-name basis was a terrible idea. I knew just enough about psychology to know he was trying to lure me in with a false sense of security. I smiled and nodded.

“In truth, I wanted to get to know you better.” Was that the theme of the week?

“My son brought you into our lives three years ago, and I genuinely thought that he would make you part of the family. Instead, he kept you as far away as possible. His mother is very hurt by this, and I’ll admit that I’m curious as to why.

Was this your request or something Titus chose? ”

Dimitri looked at me expectantly for a response.

“It was a bit of both,” I said, making a show of sipping my wine to be polite before setting it aside.

“Please explain.”

“As you are aware, I came into Titus’s world, and by extension yours, because of a gambling debt.

Titus couldn’t know how long I would stay, and to be honest, neither did I.

He made it clear from the start that I was free to leave if that was what I wanted.

We both put up boundaries separating the other parts of our lives.

He gave me a safe space, and I respected his rules.

At no time was Titus shunning his family, if that is what you’re insinuating. ”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I only wish to get to the bottom of the mystery that is Fawn Rayburn. It is interesting that you never took your stepfather’s last name.”

A lick of fear inched down my spine at the way he said my name. Like he knew things.

“I’m not much of a mystery, I’m afraid.”

“Very well, I’ll leave that for now. I invited you to dinner because I genuinely want to help you. Becoming a veterinarian is quite the feat, and I understand that you hope to open your own practice. That will take quite a long time.”

“That’s true, but I’m willing to put in the work,” I said as our appetizers arrived.

I was happy to have something to focus on other than Dimitri and quickly stabbed a strawberry with my fork.

“I’m sure you are. But what if the process was easier? What if the dream was attainable right away?”

“I am not sure what you mean,” I said.

“Your tuition has been paid in full. Titus was paying yearly, but I contacted the Bursar’s Office and took care of everything. Also, twenty acres of land have been purchased, in your name, for your rescue and clinic. What do you say to that?”

My mouth dropped open as the wheels in my head ground to a halt.

“I’m sorry…you did what?”

Dimitri certainly loved a good cliffhanger. He polished off his risotto and dabbed his mouth before picking up his glass of wine and taking a sip. Meanwhile, I’d frozen in place. My hand still held the fork full of salad halfway to my mouth.

“It’s all true.” He pulled a piece of paper out from inside his suit and placed it on the table. “These are all the details and conditions of my offer.”