Page 7 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Five

Dimitri

Cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing every angle of my polished smile as I stood at the podium. The press buzzed like a swarm of bees, their questions firing off in rapid succession, but I ignored them for now. This moment wasn’t for them—it was for me.

I was flanked by the people who were supposed to be here. Alexei, Audrey, Benson, Presley, and my two other brothers—Ivan and Griffin—formed a line behind me, their presence carefully staged for maximum impact.

Noticeably absent were the women in my family.

My mother wasn’t here. I hadn’t told her about today, not because I didn’t want her support, but because I needed her safe.

She didn’t need to know what I was about to start, nor did my grandmother or Nana.

I wasn’t seeking their approval, and I didn’t want to hear the inevitable questions or concerns they’d raise.

My eyes swept over the crowd. It was a carefully curated mix of dignitaries, local business owners, political influencers, and socialites—faces that screamed credibility and power. My PR firm had done its job.

The crowd hushed as I approached the microphone, adjusting my tie with careful precision.

“Thank you all for coming out today to witness a monumental occasion,” I began, pausing for effect. I let out a small, calculated breath and allowed a flicker of emotion to cross my face—practiced, rehearsed, and convincing.

“My name is Dimitri Cristof,” I said, my voice steady. “I come from a long line of businessmen.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, their weight heavy. The Cristof name had carried influence for generations, but this moment would redefine it—or at least, that was the goal.

“My family has built a legacy here in New York, one that I’ve been proud to be a part of. But over time, I’ve realized that a legacy isn’t enough. Our city deserves more than the status quo. It deserves leaders who are willing to fight for the people, for fairness, and for opportunity.”

I let my gaze sweep over the crowd, meeting the eyes of a few individuals in the front row. The gesture was personal.

“For too long, our city has been controlled by systems that favor the powerful and silence the voices of the many. That ends today.”

The applause started tentatively, building into something louder and more confident.

“I am here to announce my candidacy for New York City Council,” I declared, my voice rising over the growing noise.

“I’m running to be your champion. To fight for economic reform, root out corruption, and restore integrity to this city.

Together, we can build a better New York—one that isn’t built on the backs of lower-income families but instead lifts them up. ”

The applause erupted, filling the air with a deafening roar. Cameras clicked faster, reporters shouted questions I wasn’t ready to answer, and my team behind me exchanged smiles—part pride and part calculated approval.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I knew it was either my mother or Ace.

I leaned into the microphone one last time. “Thank you. I look forward to working together to bring a better future to all the people of this city.”

I stepped back from the podium, shaking a few hands as I descended the stage. Benson moved quickly to my side.

“You’re a natural,” he muttered under his breath, his tone carrying an amused edge.

I raised a brow. “You wouldn’t have said that a year ago.”

He adjusted the glasses perched on his nose and chuckled. “I wouldn’t have. If I recall correctly, there’s still a video of you crashing a golf cart into the hedges at your parents’ estate.”

A grin tugged at my lips as we made our way toward the ice cream shop set up behind the stage.

The shop was my least favorite part of this entire day—an idea from my PR team to make me appear “relatable.” I hadn’t wanted the public to know about my sweet tooth, but this campaign wasn’t about my comfort zone. It was about winning.

“Don’t remind me,” I said, still grinning. “I was nursing the worst hangover of my life for days after that.”

“Those were simpler times,” Benson said, holding the glass door open for me.

I glanced at him, my grin fading into something sharper. “Maybe. But I can’t afford to go back now.”

He tilted his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You don’t have to be a good person to win, Dimitri.”

The wicked grin that split my face came without hesitation. “Who said I was going to be a good person?”

I let the press snap a few pictures of me eating my favorite ice cream—Mint Chocolate Chip.

The cold sweetness was a rare indulgence in a life otherwise consumed by calculated moves and relentless ambition.

The rest of the family that had been invited was sitting around eating their ice cream as if the rest of the city wasn’t watching us.

Sometimes, when I was feeling nostalgic, I’d indulge in Cookies and Cream. It was the flavor I always shared with my mother growing up, sneaking bites after she’d convinced the kitchen staff to smuggle it in for us.

Sweets were a rarity in my childhood. My father didn’t believe in indulgences. Ice cream at the Cristof dinner table was limited to vanilla bean—always vanilla bean. Plain, predictable, and devoid of fun. Chocolate was out of the question.

That’s what made this moment, this place, the perfect backdrop for my announcement.

I licked the ice cream slowly, pretending not to notice the cameras snapping away. They loved the image: the young, relatable candidate enjoying something simple and human. I hated it, but I couldn’t deny its effectiveness.

This wasn’t just a campaign launch. It was a statement.

A subtle defiance against everything my father had built and the rigid world he had forced us to live in.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see how much more time I had at this farce and noticed the text still waiting on the screen.

It wasn’t from my mother or even Ace. It was from the person I least expected.

Guilt flooded me as my eyes scanned the words.

Carina

I’m watching you on TV right now! What is happening? I see Audrey up there with you, but why weren’t we invited?

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, unsure how to respond. I hadn’t invited Carina because that meant inviting Ace, and Ace was still firmly under my father’s thumb. He wouldn’t have just come to observe—he would have come to question, to interfere, and to report back.

In my family, surprises were better. Once something was out in the open, there was no turning back, no chance for anyone to talk you out of it. And that was exactly how I needed it to stay.

At the door to the ice cream shop, my campaign manager, London, and my assistant Presley, were waiting for me.

She smiled for the cameras as we exited, exuding the calm confidence I’d hired her for.

I put on my best “stern but content” face, projecting the perfect balance of control and relatability for the press.

Presley trailed behind us with her clipboard and phone out.

As soon as we were out of range of the snapping cameras and shouting reporters, London turned to me, her professional mask slipping just enough to let her excitement shine through.

“You’re a natural,” she beamed.

London and I hadn’t been working together for long, but I could already see the telltale signs of admiration in her eyes.

I hired her only a few days after I hired Presley.

Sometimes, when she looked at me for too long, her gaze turned a little too soft, and a little too hopeful.

I kept things strictly professional. She was one of the best in the business, and I couldn’t afford to lose her over something as trivial as a crush.

“Thank you,” I said, adjusting one of the buttons on my shirt as Don pulled up to the curb.

I motioned for London to get in first, but she shook her head, clutching her tablet like it was her lifeline. “I have meetings all afternoon for you. Presley and I will head back to the office. Just remember, you have a packed schedule tomorrow with interviews. Please, please be on time.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said smoothly, sliding into the car as she turned back toward the shop.

My keys jingled as I yanked them out of the lock on my brownstone.

Living here wasn’t bad, aside from the one break-in.

Since then, I’d beefed up my security system to the point that even Benson was satisfied.

Not that there was much anyone could take from me—not physically, at least. The important things were locked in a vault.

Still, I had a few personal items I wanted to keep my sights on, just in case.

The moment I flicked the lights on in the living room, my instincts kicked in. My back went rigid, my pulse quickened. My security system was down.

“You didn’t invite us to your campaign announcement.”

The familiar lilt of my Nana’s voice was enough to drain the tension from my shoulders—only to replace it with exasperation.

Us. That meant Grandmother was here, too.

I closed my eyes, counting to ten to ease some of the anxiety building in my chest. There weren’t many things in the world that scared me, but the “grannies,” as Audrey had so aptly nicknamed them, were a force of nature.

And they were terrifying. I should have probably invited them today… But as I said, they were scary.

“I just upgraded my security,” I said through clenched teeth. “How did the two of you get into my house?”

Nana rose from the armchair in the corner, her sharp eyes gleaming with mischief. “You should know by now that Benson’s systems are no match for us.”

I pulled at the tie around my neck, feeling the noose tighten. “You could have been hurt,” I tried, hoping I sounded stern.

Grandmother, sitting primly on the couch, arched a brow. “Hurt by what? We know you don’t like guns, and you certainly don’t own one.”

I let out a sigh and sank into one of the new chairs in the living room, ready to face the music. Honestly, I was surprised my mother hadn’t joined them, or worse, Carina. I knew she was hurt, especially since Audrey had been there and she hadn’t. But I didn’t care.

I didn’t have time for inconveniences like the ones sitting across from me.

“What are the two of you doing here?”

Nana scrunched her button nose and leaned back in her chair. “Is that any way to greet your loving grandmothers?”

My lips twisted into a grimace. “Loving isn’t the term I’d use for the two of you.”

Grandmother’s cane twitched at her side before it flew out, smacking me in the shin. Pain shot through my leg, but I refused to react. She reveled in moments like this—I just knew it.

She raised her silver brows, daring me to complain. We all knew she didn’t actually need the cane. It was just another one of her tools, part of her well-crafted performance.

“You didn’t tell us about your campaign,” she said flatly.

“No,” I replied carefully. “Sometimes, it’s better to keep secrets in this family.”

Nana tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear, her expression hardening. “There are no secrets in the Cristof family.”

“So you’re telling me you knew about my campaign before it went live?”

They exchanged a glance, the silence between them stretching too long for my comfort. If I didn’t break it soon, they’d be here until sunrise—and I had no intention of letting them derail my schedule tomorrow.

“What do you both want?”

“You’ve changed,” Grandmother said softly, balancing her cane across her knees. Her tone was uncharacteristically gentle, and it put me on edge.

“Ever since your Cassie was killed?—”

Her name hit me like a freight train, emotions surging to the surface before I could stop them.

“Don’t,” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

The room fell silent.

I didn’t know how they’d pieced together the truth about Cassie’s death.

I’d been careful. Yes, they’d known I was seeing her, but they couldn’t have known how serious it was.

There weren’t many secrets you could keep from the grannies.

Not even my father, who’d ordered the hit, had realized how much I’d loved her.

Nana sighed, her expression softening just enough to twist the knife. They didn’t need to say it outright. I could see it in their eyes—they just wanted to be here for me.

“I’m running for councilman,” I said, the words coming out heavier than I’d intended. “I don’t expect any of you to understand why.”

But the twinkle in their eyes and the shared look between them told me they understood far more than I’d given them credit for.

“I want to clean up the city,” I continued, my voice firmer.

Grandmother rose slowly, using her cane more for emphasis than support. “You’re playing a dangerous game going up against your father,” she said, her tone measured. “We’ll protect you, but he won’t take kindly to this.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket and tossed it onto the wooden coffee table. “He hasn’t tried to call me.”

“Neither has Ace,” Nana added, cocking her head. “That is dangerous, indeed.”

“I don’t need either of you to protect me,” I began, but they were already leaving my home.