Page 21
I swirl the wine in my glass and try not to fidget.
The dinner isn’t formal, but it still feels like a test. I can feel eyes on me, gauging how I fit into this world, whether I belong at this table.
A week ago, I wouldn’t have. A week ago, I was a liability.
Now, I’m something else. What that is exactly, I’m still trying to figure out.
Dimitri sits at the head, listening as Maksim goes over the finer details of tonight’s success. The operation played out exactly how we planned. Father took the bait. Now, we have eyes on his movements and a trail to follow.
It worked.
I should be reveling in that, but my focus keeps drifting. The way Dimitri’s fingers tap idly against the table when he’s thinking. The way his throat moves when he takes a sip from his glass. The way his presence pulls me in even when I don’t want it to.
Things have changed between us.
I notice it in the way he looks at me. When he saw me as merely a means to an end, his gaze was harsh and judgmental. Now, it’s something else.
I can’t quite pinpoint it. It’s not the heat I saw when he pinned me against the wall or when we had sex. It’s not even the hunger I caught glimpses of when he looked at me in the office today. It’s not something I can read or interpret, not something I can define.
But it’s something. Something I feel all the way down to my core. I’d call it admiration, but that feels insufficient. Whatever it is, it’s there, and it’s growing, and it’s terrifying.
“Good work tonight,” Maksim comments, cutting into my thoughts. “You read Thorne exactly right.”
I glance at him, unsure if he means it as a genuine compliment or if he’s still weighing whether to trust me. Probably both.
“I told you,” I say simply, taking a sip of my wine. “He plays the long game, but he’s not patient. If he sees an opportunity, he won’t ignore it.”
Aleksei nods. “And now we follow him back to wherever he’s running his next play.”
Dimitri hasn’t said much. He’s been watching, listening, considering every detail. His silence should feel unnerving, but it doesn’t. I understand it. The less you say, the less room there is for mistakes.
He looks at me, and even though he’s sitting several feet away, I can feel the warmth of his body. I can’t tell if it’s coming from him or me or both.
When Maksim and Aleksei shift the conversation to security adjustments, Dimitri picks up his glass and leans toward me. “You barely touched your food.”
“Are you actually concerned, or is this just an excuse to lecture me about how I should eat more vegetables because they make me big and strong?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. He almost smiles. Almost.
He looks me over and makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff. “Hardly. You look like a stiff breeze would blow you over.”
I raise an eyebrow. “If that was meant to be a compliment, you should rethink your strategy.”
“It wasn’t,” he confirms, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
“So you’re saying I look terrible. Good to know.”
Dimitri smirks, taking another sip of his whiskey. “If you’re fishing for compliments, you’re going to be waiting a long time.”
I huff a laugh. “Noted.”
Across the table, Maksim watches us with a knowing look, then nudges Aleksei. “I think we’ve talked enough business for tonight. Don’t you need to get home to the Missus?”
Aleksei glances at his watch. “Yeah, she’ll be waiting. She’s out with her girlfriends for a bit, but we’re supposed to meet up for a movie. And you… I’m sure you’ve got plans, too.”
Maksim rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Get out of here.”
He and Aleksei both stand, pushing their chairs in. Dimitri and I rise with them.
Aleksei pats Dimitri on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Brother. See you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night, boys,” I add.
Maksim tips his head at me and winks. “Night, Cecily. Thanks for your help today. Glad to see you’re fitting in.”
“Well, that makes one of us,” I joke.
They both chuckle and head out, leaving me alone with Dimitri.
They’re leaving to give us space, and we all know it, even if we’re pretending we don’t.
Dimitri doesn’t call them out on it, which surprises me.
He just watches as they exit. When the door closes behind them, the dining room feels different as we take our seats again. Quieter. More intimate.
I tap my fingernail against my wine glass. “They’re not subtle.”
“They don’t know how to be,” he replies.
I let out a breath and adjust myself in my chair. Now that we’re alone, I should find a reason to excuse myself. I should walk away before I do something stupid. Instead, I stay.
Dimitri studies me for a moment before setting his drink down. “Tell me something about yourself.”
I blink. “Something specific, or is this just a general demand for information?”
“It’s not a demand for anything. I’d just like to get to know my wife a little better. Whatever you want to tell me.”
That’s not an easy question. It’s not that I don’t have an answer; it’s that I don’t know which one to give. He’s never asked me anything that wasn’t strictly necessary before. He’s never acted like he wanted to know me outside of my connection to my father.
But now, the way he’s looking at me—there’s more to it than that.
I swallow and pick at the edge of the tablecloth. “Um. I guess I’m a big reader. Always have been. When I was a kid, I used to get in trouble for staying up late because I was reading under the covers with a flashlight.”
He leans back in his chair, watching me. “Yeah?”
“Back when my mother was alive, before my father became… who he is now, he used to bring me books. Mostly novels, along with history and politics. After she died, he stopped, but I kept reading. I suppose it was the only thing I had left that was really mine. It was the one way I could escape from everything else. And it stuck. I still spend most of my time with a book in hand. Even now, despite being surrounded by people, it feels like something that is just mine.”
I swirl the wine in my glass, smiling faintly. “I used to think I’d travel one day. See the places I read about.”
Dimitri doesn’t speak right away. When he does, his voice is quieter than before. “And now?”
I look down at the deep red liquid in my glass. “Now, I don’t think much about the future.”
“You should.”
I glance up. “Why?”
“Because you’re not your father. You don’t have to be trapped by the life he built.”
I let out a slow breath. “That’s easy for you to say. You were born into power.”
He presses his lips together and averts his eyes. “Power doesn’t mean freedom.”
Something in his voice makes me pause. I don’t know much about what his life was like before he became the man sitting in front of me now.
I’ve heard whispers, of course. Stories of the Barkov brothers and their rise through the Bratva.
But those are just stories. In this life, the truth is often something else entirely.
I study him, admiring the way the candlelight casts shadows over the angles of his face. He doesn’t look at me. He looks like he’s lost in thought. Lost somewhere far away.
I don’t know why, but I reach out and cover his hand with mine.
Dimitri flinches like he’s waking up from a dream. He looks down at my hand resting lightly over his, and for a second, it seems like he wants to pull away. But then, he doesn’t.
For the first time, I can see the cracks in the armor. For the first time, I can glimpse the man underneath.
“What about you?” I ask. “Did you ever want something different?”
“I didn’t have time to want anything else.”
I wait, giving him space to say more if he wants to. I don’t expect him to take it.
But he does.
“My father raised us to be what we are. There was no question, no alternative. When I was young, I thought maybe I’d be different. Maybe I’d get out before it became permanent. But then…” He trails off and drags a hand through his hair. “Then it didn’t matter anymore.”
I don’t push. If I’ve learned anything about Dimitri, it’s that he won’t say more than he wants to. Instead, I say, “Sounds lonely.”
He looks at me. There are layers behind his gaze, something dark and haunted and unspoken. Something that makes me feel like I’m treading on dangerous ground.
He turns his hand over and slides his palm against mine, brushing his thumb over the back of my wrist. A shiver runs up my arm.
I tell myself to pull away, but I can’t. It feels like I’m suspended in time, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for whatever is happening between us to pass.
It doesn’t.
He traces the curve of my hand, and my skin prickles in its wake. There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t let him keep touching me, but my pulse pounds in my ears, and I can’t think past the soft brush of his fingers against my palm.
When his thumb brushes the inside of my wrist, the place where my pulse beats against my skin, he hesitates. I can sense his eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. Not when the air feels like it’s on fire, my throat is dry, and my whole body is aching.
The silence is suffocating. It’s filled with tension, questions, and a million things that are better left unspoken.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. Low. Dark.
“Your heart is racing.”
I swallow. I’m not surprised. Not after the last few days. Not after tonight.
Not after the way he’s staring at me, as if he could devour me whole and still not be satisfied.
Dimitri stands slowly, tugging me up with him. He takes a step toward me, and the world seems to fade away until it’s just us, alone, a hairsbreadth away from crossing a line.
I’m breathing faster now, and he must be able to feel the tension in my body.
He’s so close, and the energy between us is thick, almost tangible.
His fingertips ghost up my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
His stormy grey eyes never leave mine, and when he speaks, his voice is rough and deep. “Is this okay?”
I nod.