13. Dmitri
13
DMITRI
E lanee might believe that I’m keeping my distance, and I am… to a certain degree. However, I do know everything about her and her movements. Although the person I’ve hired has to carefully watch from a distance.
Surprisingly, she’s not closely monitored, a manipulative treatment to give her a sense of freedom. Sporadically, someone will watch her for random hours on any given day, but there are no patterns. A gentle reminder that no matter what, she could be followed at any time. It’s a tactic to ensure she keeps herself in check out of fear and paranoia.
I’d also since learned she worked as a matchmaker. I find it ironic that the woman who spouted from the day I first met her in college that she didn’t believe in love and marriage ended up as one of the most sought-out matchmakers for high society. But maybe that’s why she was good at what she did. She profiled everyone and worked off compatibility, something entirely different from any prospect of emotional endearment.
The airport is busy today, and although I’d usually fly by private jet, I had my reasons for flying in business class today. I show my ID before the air hostess guides me to my seat a little too enthusiastically. She looks over her shoulder to make sure I’m still following her, and when I charm a smile, she eats it up.
It’s what people expect. I had to wear a mask to throw away doubt for anyone who might know about my association with the Bratva from birth alone. I don’t know how it leaked in college, but most ruled it off as gossip, although they were still smart enough to keep their distance. Now, in the corporate world, they only saw me as a savage businessman. I kept it at that.
I’m escorted to business class, which, even for my preference, is far too small and claustrophobic. But considering it was less than a four-hour flight to Austin, Texas, I’d manage, especially when I had such a view.
I stop dead in my tracks as Elanee inspects her space. She’s always been like that—inquisitive and tentative to make sure things were in the right place.
I hide my smile, knowing the moment she sees me, she’s going to lose her shit. I might be an asshole for enjoying teasing her even under the circumstances, but I know right now what I had planned was safe or else I wouldn’t risk it.
“This will be your seat.” The hostess offers the one beside Elanee, separated from the isle between us. “If you need anything…” The hostess steps closer, and I freeze as she places her hand on my shoulder, and am bombarded by the cheap cherry perfume. “Just call for me, I’m Klara.”
I offer a polite smile. I can’t stand it when others touch me unwarranted. Only when I’m in control and they’ve received permission.
Elanee’s elbow hits the small bottle of water, knocking it over, and serendipitously, we both bend over to pick it up; I wince, a sharp shooting pain reminding me of my still-healing ribs.
“Oh, sorry,” she says as I reach it first. “I’m so clums—” The word dies on her lips as she looks up. Those doe-like brown eyes go wide as realization hits her.
“Dmitri, you can’t be here,” she hisses.
I place the water on her small side table. “Last I checked, I can do anything I please.” I think about our previous meeting only a week ago and her threat. “And I’m certain you don’t have the balls to shoot me on a plane in front of all of these witnesses.” The blood drains from her face, and even I have a limit to how unfair it is to tease her, even in a situation like this. But it’s hard with Elanee; I always made a habit of tugging on her hair and taunting her, even in college. “It’s fine. Your family is safe. I just took a little opportunity. That’s all.”
I make a point to dip my gaze to her now bare wrist. One that I had a pickpocket professionally remove before she boarded the flight. She goes to say something but turns paler when she notices her bracelet is missing. “You have to give it back; it has a tracker, Dmitri. If I’m not wearing it, he’ll ki—” Her mouth snaps shut when the couple in front of us twist, clearly irritated.
“Mind your business,” I nonchalantly say to the older couple. The woman’s jaw drops, flabbergasted, and she scoffs, looking away. I continue to stare down the old man, who is quick to avert his gaze and readjust himself in his seat.
“Elanee, I need you to listen to me,” I say very quietly as I crouch beside her seat and reach for her hand. It was habitual. The moment she was stressed over exams or family matters, I discovered this was the best way to soothe her. Her hand is sweaty, and it fuels my anger to know that she’s rattled with so much fear that I haven’t been able to do anything sooner. Hell, I didn’t even know what she was going through up until six weeks ago.
I want to kill every single fucker who watches her within the city. But if I do—more will come to replace them. I’d already intended to destroy my father beforehand, but this was the catalyst to fulfill that promise sooner. Right now, the only thing that held me back from throwing her over my shoulder was respecting her wishes to protect her family. And especially her sister.
Her breathing begins to ease as I carefully and pointedly say. “Remember when you and Layla used to play swapsies in exams.” Her eyes go wide with the realization as to where I’m going with this. “Well, she and I are on this plane right now. Might I add she hates the wig she has to wear, and she and I both have fake IDs, so no one, including him, will know we’re on this plane.”
“It’s too dangerous. I told you to stay away,” she bites back harshly. I can smell the fear, my jaw clenching tightly in response to the fact that she’s so rattled by the consequences if this goes wrong. But I can’t let her fight this on her own any longer.
I say nothing; my mind already made up for the both of us.
She looks me up and down, familiar with my defiant expression.
It feels like time hasn’t passed at all. And I choose to think of our good times rather than her last scathing words.
She swallows hard. “Dmitri, fake ID or not, you kind of stand out.”
“Thank you.”
“That isn’t a complime—”
I press my hand to her cheek to shut her up. She sucks in a harsh breath, and it’s nice to see this little trick still works. Soft, her skin is still so smooth, a reminder of how breakable she is. “Elanee, I’ve accounted for every person on this plane. I would not put you at risk. We pickpocketed your bracelet, and for the next two days, Layla will attend your clients wedding and enjoy your little getaway. Meanwhile, you and I need to talk.”
“But what if he calls? What if he comes? I can’t put Layla in harm’s way.”
My heart twists because I should’ve been there to protect her from the start. My own wounded arrogance should’ve checked up on her while she lived abroad in Russia. How long had she carried this burden alone? What things had my father put her through?
“Layla is well adept at dealing with situations like this. And I’ll have someone watching her to make sure she’s safe. If something goes wrong, I have tabs on your parents, who we’ll bring to safety immediately.”
“No, we—”
I brush my thumb across her sharp, defined cheek. She used to be petite before, but now she looks slightly on the gaunter end. It goes without saying I’ve kept tabs on her from the moment I found out. I’d hired Archer to watch her from afar in case something happened and I was forced to take her out against her own will. “You are not fighting this alone, Elanee. I’ve waited weeks for this opportunity. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to hold back?”
She swallows harshly. An announcement for seatbelts to be put on is made as we stare at one another. I’m fighting every primal urge to take her with me. Instead, I force myself to stand and press a kiss on her forehead. I know she hates me and I’m entirely okay with that. But I will never be sorry enough for the pain and suffering I caused her. And I was yet to find out to what extent that was.
When I stand, I’m hit with a head spin and catch myself on the back of her seat with a wince as more pain shoots up my ribs. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. I’d been dealing with headaches for the last two months, but this is new. And annoying.
Elanee is half standing out of her seat as she holds me up. “Dmitri?” she says concerned. I wait for the wave to pass.
“I’m fine.” I brush her off. “I’m just healing from two broken ribs. You won’t get rid of me yet,” I dryly joke, but neither of us finds humor in it.
I take my seat as she reluctantly takes hers but whisper shouts, “That’s not funny. And are you seriously still fighting?”
“I’ll have you know, I’m still in my prime, Elanee Lane. I’ve only just hit thirty.” She was only two years younger than me.
“It’s terrifying the fact that you think you’ve ever been in your prime with the amount you drink.”
My eyebrows flick up at her quick-witted response, and I see my girl for the first time. The Elanee, I knew. She’s still in there, fighting. She clicks her belt over the beige cashmere sweater and black leather skirt in a rather uppity mood. The corner of my mouth pulls up into an arrogant smile.
“If memory serves correctly, I’m not the only one who likes to drink.”