Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Savina
I RECEIVE A text message Saturday morning from my stepmother that my presence is required at my father’s house later that evening. Cosette made it a point to tell me to dress nicely in a second message, and I almost want to put on baggy sweatpants and a stained T-shirt just to piss her off.
But not wanting to provoke the beast any more than I must and then having to deal with the consequences later, I put on a very nice dress and high heels for the unknown occasion. A driver picks me up around six and drops me off at my father’s house around six-thirty.
The first thing I notice as I walk up to the front door is the amount of strange cars parked in the circular driveway. Are they having some kind of party? My birthday isn’t for another week, so this can’t all be for me, unless…
Suddenly, the door opens before I can even reach for the knob and a chorus of voices yell, “Surprise!”
I stare at the crowd of people packed inside the foyer, most of whom are unfamiliar faces, and plaster a fake, saccharine smile on my face. “Wow!” I exclaim, hoping that my tone is not dripping with sarcasm.
“Happy Birthday, sweetheart!” my stepmother cries out, stepping forward with a huge grin on her face.
She’s dressed in a tight, low-cut, sequined dress with full glam makeup and her hair perfectly styled.
Hell, she’s even wearing a tiara on top of her head.
I’m honestly surprised it doesn’t say “birthday girl” on it since she’s clearly trying to act as if it’s her own party instead of mine, and I have to force my eyes to not roll in the back of my head.
“Were you surprised, Savina?” she asks while batting her long, fake eyelashes, which resemble tarantula legs the longer I stare at them.
“Very,” I tell her honestly. My past birthdays were always forgotten by my stepmother until days or sometimes weeks later after the fact. And even then, they were thrown together so haphazardly and half-assed that I knew she was only doing it to appease my father.
So, for my stepmother to throw such a huge party in my honor a week before my actual birthday is suspicious, at best. I can only think that Cosette did it for the benefit of the Sokolov family. She has been putting on airs ever since they came into the picture, after all.
“I planned all of it myself,” Cosette announces proudly, although I doubt that very much. I know for a fact that she has an entire party planning team at her beck and call, and I have no doubt that they did everything, even down to the napkin color choices.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out. Thank you for inviting total strangers to my birthday party when you didn’t even invite my best friend, I think to myself.
“You’re welcome,” Cosette says, accepting all of the credit, like usual. “Go and greet our guests,” she prompts, practically shoving me into the sea of people looking at me expectantly.
Trying to keep a smile on my face, but failing miserably, I walk towards the first person on the right and greet them.
This meet and greet then goes on for what feels like hours as I make my way through the crowd.
A lot of people have to introduce themselves to me because they’re distant relatives I haven’t seen since I was a little girl and too young to even remember their faces or names.
Cosette literally invited everyone she could think of, and I kind of hate her for it.
No, I do hate her for it. Because after I’m done making my way through the throng of guests, my social battery is already feeling drained, and I’m loathing the fact that I can’t just leave.
It’s my birthday party, after all. And I’m obligated to stay until it’s over, unfortunately.
I realize after I’ve talked to pretty much everyone here that the one person I haven’t seen so far is Dimitri.
He’s nowhere to be found, but I swear I can feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of my head.
My eyes scan the room, trying to find him in amongst the crowd, but no one even comes close to his height or build.
Honestly, I don’t really know whether I want to see him or not.
Our last interaction was the night of the costume ball, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.
Our time apart has only made me even more confused and angry.
The thing that pisses me off the worst; however, is the fact that I miss him.
And I hate that I miss him when he probably hasn’t even thought of me once over the past week.
If he had, he would have texted me or called or come to see me.
Yet, I’ve heard nothing from him. He completely ghosted me in true, typical Dimitri fashion.
After saying hello to yet another guest I must have missed, I spot Dimitri’s father and Pavel gathered in a corner with some of their relatives and Pavel’s bodyguard. I walk over to thank them for coming, scanning the group for Dimitri but coming up empty.
Where the hell is he? Did he not come to my birthday party? And why do I care? I don’t even want to see him. Right? I mean, I kind of do. In a way. Maybe. Oh, my god, my conscience can’t even make up her damn mind. That bitch is just as confused as I am.
“Could Dimitri not make it?” I question his father when we’re alone.
“Oh, he’s here somewhere,” he answers.
A part of me wants to see him because out of all the people who could formulate a plan to get me the hell out of my own birthday party, it would be him.
But for right now, I have to suffer in silence and try to get through as much of this night as I can.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I tell Mr. Sokolov before escaping into the powder room.
I shut the door and walk over to the sink, almost collapsing against it.
I consider myself more of an introvert, and all of these social events have really been taking a toll on my mental health.
Sucking in a long, deep breath before exhaling slowly, I stare at myself in the mirror.
God, this is going to be such a long night.
I’m thinking about climbing out the window and running away when I hear the doorknob turning. I’m about to say, “someone is in here,” but then I see a tall, dark figure pushing his way through the door before closing it behind him.
“Dimitri,” I whisper. Even though I didn’t see him earlier, I swear I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. Sometimes I think I’m paranoid, but it seems like he’s always watching me.
He strolls in the small room, eating up all the space in the process.
His tailored, black three-piece suit clings to his muscular body like a suit of armor.
He looks so damn handsome that it’s really unfair.
I’m mad at him. I want to stay mad at him.
But when he looks like this, it’s so damn hard to stand my ground.
Dimitri moves behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror, and I’m having some sort of déjà vu moment.
We were both in this very bathroom at my engagement party after he crossed so many lines at the dinner table.
That’s when everything turned on its head.
So much has happened since then. So much has changed.
But considering I haven’t heard from him since last weekend when he did nefarious things to me in the hedge maze and then left me soaking wet but devastated, I feel an overwhelming sense of hurt and anger towards him now.
He discarded me like a piece of trash, and I want him to know that I’m not going to put up with that type of behavior.
And so, when I see his hand in the reflection reach for me, I call out, “Don’t. ”
He doesn’t listen, of course, and I feel his hand snaking its way up my body until he wraps it around my neck. He pulls me closer so that I’m pressed up against him, and I can feel his growing arousal digging into the small of my back.
Breathing in his familiar, masculine scent has my core tightening like a Pavlovian response, and I practically melt into him against my will. “I’m mad at you,” I say even though my body is clearly disagreeing with me.
“I know,” he breathes against my ear. “I’m sorry, Savina.”
I stare at him in the mirror, expecting him to smile or smirk, but he’s actually serious. I don’t think Dimitri has ever sincerely apologized to me before, and he’s done a lot of terrible things in the time that I’ve known him.
“I fucked up that night,” he continues. “I let my emotions take control, and I shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
We’re both quiet for a long time as I try to absorb his words.
I think back to that night. I almost told him how I feel.
How I really feel. Maybe he sensed it. Maybe he was just as scared as I was, and so he pushed me away instead of talking about it or dealing with the truth.
I’m still mad about the whole ordeal, but I guess a part of me is willing to forgive him for not wanting to get hurt.
I don’t want to get hurt either, and yet we keep finding each other.
We keep fooling around behind everyone’s back.
It’s like we both know there’s a dangerous, steep cliff at the end of this ride, but we keep going anyway, enjoying the thrill until what will ultimately be an inevitable demise.
“You didn’t text me back,” I whisper, breaking the silence.
“I know, I’m sorry for that too. This week has been fucking chaotic,” he says with a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling against my back, and I can almost feel the weight of his words.
“Your father is trying to start a war with the Irish, and I’ve been working on the front lines to try to keep everyone from killing each other. ”