Page 3 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Two

Dimitri

The worst part about running for office was the public appearances.

Fundraisers, photo ops, shaking hands with people I’d rather strangle—it was all a necessary evil.

I loathed dressing up and hated plastering on fake smiles, but if I wanted to win, I had to play the game.

The limelight was a place I’d avoided my entire life, and now I was stepping right into its glare.

I straightened the collar of my tuxedo, the fabric stiff and foreign against my neck. Rolling my shoulders, I glanced at myself in the mirror. The man staring back looked polished, composed, almost respectable. A laughable facade.

I was good at putting on a show. Too good. I’d spent so long pretending that sometimes I forgot where the act ended and I began. It was a double-edged sword—my greatest strength and my most dangerous vulnerability.

Don was waiting at the door, the quiet hum of the idling car outside punctuating the stillness. I’d never needed a driver before, but now he was as much a necessity as the tux I was wearing. No DUIs, no incidents, no unnecessary risks. And if anyone asked where I was? Don was my alibi.

He wasn’t just a driver, though. He was ex-military, hired muscle with a cold efficiency I recognized immediately.

We were kindred spirits in a way, men who’d seen too much and done worse.

If I weren’t running for office, I’d probably be trading war stories with him on our drives around town—maybe it would come later, though I wasn’t about to hold my breath.

I gave him a curt nod as I stepped outside, the evening air cool against my skin. He opened the door with practiced precision, his face a mask of professionalism.

“Ready, sir?”

I wasn’t. Not even close. But that didn’t matter.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, sliding into the back seat.

The car pulled away smoothly, the city lights streaking past the windows. I leaned back, forcing myself to focus. Tonight was critical. One misstep, one wrong word, and the entire charade could come crashing down.

I prayed—though I wasn’t sure to whom—that tonight would go off without a hitch.

The red carpet stretched out in front of the museum, glowing under the bright lights of camera flashes and the glare of chandeliers visible through towering glass windows.

Tonight’s fundraiser was designed to dazzle and drain wallets—each seat costing a few thousand dollars and an entire table costing more than I cared to calculate.

I didn’t know much about the charity tonight, but I knew it had to be one of those “meaningful” causes that made people feel good about spending obscene amounts of money. Saving the whales? Funding schools? Feeding the hungry? Whatever it was, the purpose mattered less than the performance.

The event wasn’t about charity—it was about power. Connections. Influence.

The kind of influence I needed.

The car came to a stop, and Don exited first. His tall frame cut an imposing silhouette as he opened my door. I adjusted my cuffs, took a steadying breath, and stepped out.

Flashbulbs erupted like fireworks, their blinding brilliance momentarily disorienting. Cameras clicked incessantly, reporters shouted questions I didn’t plan to answer, and the chatter of the crowd buzzed in the background.

I plastered on a smile, the kind that said I belonged here, even if every cell in my body screamed otherwise.

“Mr. Cristof! Over here!” A voice called out, sharper than the others. I turned just slightly, giving them the angle they wanted. Let them capture the image. Let them write their headlines. “How does it feel to finally be in the spotlight? What are your plans for the future?”

I ignored the question though I shot the reporter a wink.

Inside, the museum was a temple of opulence.

Glittering crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting golden light over marble floors polished to a mirror-like sheen.

Servers glided between groups of guests, offering champagne and hors d'oeuvres so delicate they looked more like art than food.

The hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of classical music from a live quartet stationed in the corner.

I moved through the crowd, nodding and shaking hands, my smile never faltering. Each interaction was another move in the game, another carefully calculated step toward my goal. But then, finally, I spotted someone I could actually tolerate.

First was Alexei. My brother. He was the one who tipped me off about this event, which was a fundraiser his fiancée’s boss was hosting.

The details didn’t matter to me. All I needed was the setting—an opportunity to solidify my presence among the elite.

Alexei stood by the bar, his posture relaxed, a glass of whiskey in hand.

Next, of course, was Audrey, my future sister-in-law.

She was stunning in a dark red dress with a plunging heart neckline that revealed just enough to make her unforgettable.

The dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and the sharp glint in her eyes told me she knew exactly how much attention she was commanding.

She was beautiful, but more importantly, she was smart—a dangerous combination in our world.

And then there was Benson. My best friend. The mastermind behind my new life.

Benson had done what I thought was impossible: he’d scrubbed my past clean. Every loose end and every connection was erased as though it had never existed. You couldn’t find a shred of evidence about me that I didn’t want you to see. He was worth every dollar I paid him—and I paid him a lot.

I had no qualms about spending my father’s money to fund my revenge. It was almost poetic, using his wealth to build the empire I’d eventually use to dismantle him.

But scrubbing my past came with sacrifices.

Cassie’s existence was wiped from every record. As much as it killed me to erase her, it was necessary. It helped that she was almost a nobody anyway. She didn’t have any family and no social media. We couldn’t be linked—not now, not ever.

In a twisted way, it felt like I was still protecting her.

Her memory burned in my chest as I approached the group, forcing another smile onto my face. Every step reminded me why I was here, why I had to win, and why failure wasn’t an option.

Benson stood at our table, fidgeting with his glass, his discomfort practically radiating off him. He wasn’t built for socialite events like this, and I didn’t blame him. Hell, I wasn’t built for them either. But necessity had a way of forcing you into places you didn’t belong.

Benson wasn’t just an ally; he was an asset. His parents were founders of one of the largest airlines in the world, and their fortune rivaled some of the country’s oldest families. Their wealth opened doors, and their connections kept those doors open. Everyone knew them—or wanted to.

But Benson wasn’t just riding their coattails.

He had talents of his own, talents that made him invaluable to me.

Cybersecurity. Coding. The kind of skills that could bury secrets or unearth them, depending on what I needed.

He’d built a digital fortress around me, one so impenetrable even the most determined investigator would come up empty.

Together, we were an unlikely team—the son of a crime lord and a tech genius from old money. On paper, we didn’t fit. But in practice, we were unstoppable.

As I approached, he glanced up, his expression somewhere between irritation and relief. He pushed his dark black wire-frame glasses up his nose, a nervous tic I’d picked up on long ago.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” I said, smirking.

“About as much as you are,” he shot back, downing the last of his drink. “Remind me why I agreed to this again?”

“Because you love me,” I replied, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing server.

Benson snorted but didn’t argue.

He didn’t need to be here. Any other day he would be down in his hovel doing research for me and continuing to collect valuable information for his other clients.

His family’s name alone carried enough weight to make him untouchable.

But he was here—for me. For the plan. And that loyalty was something I didn’t take lightly. Maybe he did actually love me.

“Just a couple of hours,” I said, clinking my glass lightly against his. “Then we can both get the hell out of here.”

He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Fine. Just don’t ask me to talk to anyone.”

I smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It didn’t take long for Alexei and Audrey to join us at the table.

They both had glasses of bourbon in their hands and had never looked so in love.

Alexei pressed a firm hand to the small of her back as he led her through the room.

If the big sparkling diamond on her left hand wasn’t enough of a brand, the possessive gleam in his eyes did the trick.

Audrey released her love and scurried to my side. Quickly she pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek and smiled at me under her thick lashes. She was one of the prettiest girls I’d ever laid eyes on. I constantly wondered how my brother lucked out with her.

I gritted my teeth. It no longer mattered. When I took a wife, it would be for political reasons only and it wouldn’t come from the folder that my father picked out. I would probably choose her when my father was good and dead.

The first course—a delicate arrangement of scallops and caviar— was served, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I found myself face-to-face with one of the event’s key players, Senator Gerald Bain.

“Dimitri Cristof,” he said, extending a hand. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself. What you’ve been building lately is truly impressive. You wouldn’t happen to be running for office soon? I’ve seen the moves you’ve been making and they look very political.”

I rose from my seat and shook his hand firmly. “Senator Bain. A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a great deal about your work in... international relations.”