12. Dimitri
12
Dimitri
I can tell something’s wrong with Elena the moment we sit down for dinner. Her smile is too tight, her laughter forced. Marie is chattering on about her debate win, but Elena barely touches her food. Her hands tremble slightly when she reaches for her glass, and she’s been quiet—too quiet. Normally, she’s trying to engage, trying to please me, but tonight... tonight, she’s somewhere else.
I study her across the table, my gaze sharp, calculating. Something is off. The tension is radiating from her, but she hasn’t said a word. I keep my face neutral, unwilling to give away the storm brewing beneath the surface. Whatever this is, I’ll get it out of her. I’ll find out what’s bothering her because I’m not a man who allows secrets to fester in his house.
Dinner drags on, the conversation shallow, but I can’t focus. Not fully. My mind is already churning, already piecing together what could have happened. Marie’s oblivious, thankfully, too caught up in her own world to notice Elena’s strange behavior. But I notice. I always notice.
When dinner is finally over and Marie heads up to bed, I offer Elena my hand, as I always do. She hesitates—just for a second, but long enough for me to catch it. I feel the flicker of irritation rise inside me. She’s hiding something, and that’s not going to fly. Not with me.
"Come, my princess," I say, my voice calm, masking the growing storm inside. She takes my hand, and I lead her upstairs, every step thick with unspoken tension. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. I’ll get it out of her.
In the bedroom, I close the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. Just me and her now. I pull her close, pressing her against my chest, and kiss her like I always do—slow, deep, possessive. But something’s different tonight. She’s not melting into me like she usually does. Her body is stiff, her mind clearly elsewhere.
I push her gently onto the bed, my hands moving over her body, undressing her with a deliberate slowness. Normally, this is where she begins to respond, her breath hitching, her skin flushing under my touch. But tonight, there’s nothing. No heat. No desire. She’s distant, her body present, but her mind a thousand miles away.
I growl low in my throat, pausing, my fingers stilling on her bare skin. This isn’t right. I know her. I know how she feels when she’s with me, and this isn’t it.
“Elena.” My voice is sharp now, cutting through the quiet of the room. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer at first, her eyes darting away from mine, her lips trembling. I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “ Talk .”
She exhales shakily, and I see the fear flash in her eyes. That’s when I know—something happened. Something she hasn’t told me.
“I... I didn’t want to ruin tonight,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
“Ruin it?” My anger flares, but I keep it in check. Barely. “What happened?”
She hesitates, and that only makes the anger burn hotter. I sit up, pulling her with me, my grip firm but not rough. She needs to tell me. Now.
“Elena,” I say, my voice low, dangerous. “I’m not asking again.”
She swallows hard, her gaze finally meeting mine. “One of the Russians. He was at the school. In the coatroom.”
Everything in me goes still. The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
“What?” My voice is so quiet, so deadly, that I feel her flinch.
“He... he cornered me,” she stammers. “He threatened me. Said they’re waiting. That they’ll get to me. To us.” She’s shaking now, tears filling her eyes. “He said... he said they’ll wait as long as it takes.”
A cold, murderous rage floods through me. My hands tighten on her arms, and I see her wince, but I can’t stop myself. My blood roars in my ears, my vision narrowing as fury overtakes every other thought. The Russians. Those motherfuckers. I told them— I warned them . Touch her and die . That was the deal. That was the fucking rule. And now, they’ve crossed it.
“Elena,” I say, my voice a rough growl, “look at me.”
Her wide, terrified eyes meet mine, and I lean in close, my grip firm. “No one. No one touches what’s mine.”
The fear in her eyes shifts, softening into something else—something that looks almost like relief. She knows, deep down, that I’ll protect her. That I’ll always protect her. But right now, she’s afraid, and that’s not acceptable. Not when she belongs to me.
“I’m going to handle this,” I say, my voice a promise wrapped in steel. “They’re going to learn exactly what happens when they fuck with me. When they fuck with you .”
“Dimitri—”
“No,” I cut her off, my hands still gripping her arms, my eyes locked on hers. “You listen to me. You are mine . And anyone who thinks they can take you, hurt you, or even threaten you will fucking regret it. Do you understand?”
She nods, her breath shaky, her body still trembling. I pull her into me, holding her tightly, trying to calm the violent rage boiling in my chest. I’ll kill them. Every single one of them if I have to. I’ll make an example out of whoever came after her.
“You don’t need to be scared, Elena,” I whisper into her hair, my voice softening slightly. “I’ll protect you. No one touches what’s mine. No one.”
I feel her relax slightly against me, but it’s not enough. She’s still scared. She still feels unsafe. And that... that is unacceptable.
I’ll show them. I’ll make them fucking bleed for this.
Gently, I pull back and cup her face in my hands, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “I’m going to take care of this. You won’t have to worry about them ever again.”
“Dimitri, please don’t—”
“I said I’ll handle it,” I growl, standing abruptly, the fury inside me barely contained. I pace the room, trying to rein in the violent urges crashing through me. I want to storm out of here right now, hunt them down one by one, and show them what real fear is. But I can’t. Not yet. I need a plan.
I turn to her, my voice cold and hard. “They will never touch you again, Elena. They’ll learn exactly who they’re dealing with.”
She looks at me, a mix of fear and trust in her eyes. She knows I’m serious. She knows what I’m capable of.
I’m going to make sure the Russians understand that too.
Touch her, and you die . And I don’t care how long it takes, or how far I have to go. They’re going to pay for this. With blood.