6. Dimitri
6
Dimitri
I watch her as she follows me through the house. Her steps are quiet, hesitant, like she’s walking on glass, afraid it might shatter beneath her. She doesn’t need to be afraid of me, not yet. But that’s something she’ll learn with time. The woman I’ve married will come to understand her place here.
“This is the kitchen,” I tell her, my voice sharp. I can feel her unease, and it stirs something primal inside me. “You can ask the chefs and prep people for whatever you need, and they’ll get it for you.”
She nods but doesn’t speak. That’s good. I like that she knows when to keep her mouth shut. Obedience will be necessary. I continue through the house, leading her toward the dining area. I don’t look back, but I can hear her soft steps trailing behind me.
“This is where you’ll eat all family meals,” I say, my voice steady, authoritative.
“Family?” Her soft, broken voice halts my steps. I turn to see that look again, that blank expression like she’s drowning in her own memories. Her eyes are glazed, her lips parted, and it takes everything in me not to shake her out of it. I’ve given her time to grieve, time to mourn her dead father and adjust to her new life. But this hesitation, this weakness—it irritates me.
“Elena, I’m your family now. Marie’s too.” I keep my voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. She needs to understand this. She belongs to me now, and so does her sister. I’ll protect them both, but it comes at a price—her submission.
She nods and falls in step again, her silence lingering in the air between us. I guide her through the rest of the house, showing her the rooms, explaining her duties. But my mind isn’t on these rooms or the fucking schedules. My mind is on her. She’s still in mourning, yes, but she’s mine. And tonight, she’ll learn what that truly means.
When we reach the living room, I point to a door on the far side of the room. “That’s my private den. You’re not permitted to enter there.”
Her brow furrows slightly. “Not permitted?” she asks, her voice carrying a quiet defiance that makes me pause.
“Yes. I’ve lived in this house alone for a long time, Elena. I’m the master of this household, and there are private spaces that I want to remain private.” She needs to understand—there are parts of me she doesn’t get access to. Not yet.
“I understand,” she says softly, lowering her gaze again.
Good.
We continue the tour, and I show her the sunroom, the hot tub, the sauna, and the indoor pool. I explain the rules, the procedures, the people she needs to talk to. It’s all business. But my eyes, my body—they’re tuned to her every movement. The slight sway of her hips as she walks in front of me, the way her long skirt clings to her body in certain places. It’s enough to drive a man insane, but I keep my composure. I’ll have her soon enough. Patience is key.
She questions me about security, about Marie’s school, and I lay down the law. There’s no room for negotiation here. She’ll do as I say because it’s the only way to keep them both safe. People are still after her. Her enemies are my enemies now, and that’s a dangerous fucking line to walk. I can’t afford mistakes. She must obey.
“I understand,” she finally says, her voice resigned.
“Good,” I reply, and I watch as she turns to leave. Her skirt hugs her curves as she walks away, and I catch a glimpse of the woman underneath—the one she keeps hidden beneath the layers of grief and duty. I want to rip those layers apart. I want her stripped, exposed, vulnerable under me.
Those are my curves, and I’ll make damn sure she knows it.
When she disappears down the hall, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The sight of her walking away stirs something dark and possessive in me. I won’t lie to myself—I want her. Not just in the way a man wants a woman, but in the way a predator wants to sink his teeth into soft flesh and leave his mark. I want to ruin her for anyone else. She’ll be mine, body and soul.
But not yet.
There’s more at play here than just my desire for her. This marriage is about power, alliances, and survival. Her father’s death left a hole in the criminal world, one that other wolves are eager to fill. But with Elena under my roof, they won’t touch her or Marie. They’ll stay in line, or I’ll rip their throats out myself.
Still, as I walk toward my office, I can’t shake the image of her standing there, eyes downcast, waiting for me to command her. The memory of last night creeps into my mind—her trembling form, the way her voice barely whispered, “Yes, Daddy.” It was enough to drive me wild then, and it’s enough now to send heat racing through my veins.
I can picture her tonight, laid out in that lacy lingerie, her hair falling down her back, her body trembling under my touch. I want to pull her close, wrap her hair around my fist, and hear her scream my name. But I’ll wait.
Tonight, she’ll be mine. And when I claim her, there will be no turning back.
With that thought, I step into the den, shutting the door behind me. There’s work to be done—things Enzo needs me for, tasks that require my attention. But even as I sit behind the desk, my mind is already elsewhere. On her.
Tonight, Elena will learn exactly who her husband is.