Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Dmitri
Yuliana pours me a cup of coffee then returns to my father across the table to refill his cup. It’s a special blend with hazelnut syrup she likes to make after dinner.
We have maids, but Yuliana likes to cook and serve us when I’m home. My return pushes her into mom-mode, and she becomes the caring stepmother who’s always striving to fill my mother’s shoes in whatever way she can.
She married my father a year after my mother’s death. People always compared her to my mother because everyone—including me—thought Mom was perfect. She was.
My mother had known my father all her life, but his marriage to Yuliana was arranged at a whim’s notice. She’s also fifteen years younger than him, so she’s only just turned forty.
A senior Knight on the council must always have a wife, whether he loves her or not.
He was in love with my mother; that much I know about him to be true. I also know that he tries to love Yuliana, but she’s not my mother.
She sets the coffee jug down next to the remaining slices of pie and glances at my father, who is staring at me. An apprehensive look instantly washes over her face when she reads his contemptuous expression.
Her unease reflects how I feel. She’s probably just realized that I’ve hardly spoken to him since I got home, and he’s probably pissed at me because I got here so late.
He wanted me here first thing this morning, but there was no way in fuck I was going to do that. I arrived at dinnertime, so I’ve been home for close to two hours. Tension greeted me at the door, and it never left.
Yuliana does a good job of acting like everything is fine and cuts my father another slice of pie. I almost feel sorry for her. She doesn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of our silent war.
I’m not home often. Especially in the summer. Summer marks the remembrance of my mother’s death. And Tommy’s, too.
It’s been ten years since my mother passed and five for Tommy.
Losing Mom was hard, but she died from a brain tumor. Tommy was murdered. It’s different. His life was stolen from us, and the worst thing is, we’ve never had justice.
My father blames Mackenzie’s father, and that was the start of our family feud.
The hostility is heightened by the fact that Mackenzie’s family lives next door to us.
Everyone is home for the summer, so I spend it away with my friends, at football camp, or I head out to Russia to see my grandparents. I was only around this past week for initiation.
Usually, it takes place in the first week of the new semester, but this year, Aleksander moved it to the week before because he’ll be away on business.
“Thank you, dear.” Father smiles up at Yuliana when she straightens and looks at him again. At least he’s giving her a genuine smile, not the stiff-lipped versions he’s been doling out all night.
“Do either of you need anything else?” She looks from me to Father, and the blunt ends of her freshly cut brown hair brush over her shoulders like feathers.
“I’m good. Thank you for cooking. The food was great, as always.” I give her a curt nod and muster a grin even though I don’t feel like smiling.
The compliment brightens her pale gray eyes and loosens the tight line across her shoulders. “I’m glad you liked it. It’s so good to have you home. I like making sure you eat.” She reaches over and taps my head.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Again, she glances at my father, who gives her a clipped nod. A sign he’s already discussed with her that he wanted to speak to me.
At this point, my younger self would have wished she would stay as a buffer for my father’s abrasiveness. I hate being alone with him.
Part of me still wishes Yuliana would stay because her light chatter about fundraising through dinner served as a great distraction. But I do need to speak to my father in private. I need to know what he’s planning for me, so I know what I’m up against.
The moment Yuliana saunters away, Father leans forward and intensifies his stare. The way a jury would when they’re trying to determine a person’s guilt.
“I’m not sure if you set out to purposely defy me or if you piss with me because you genuinely don’t care.” He steeples his long fingers and sets his hands on the table.
“Neither.” Honestly, the truth is a bit of both, but I won’t tell him that. In any event, he already knows the answer.
“I guess it’s fruitless to argue you with you at this point. Do you plan on spending the week like I requested?”
It was more like he demanded it. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I’m heading back to Raventhorn next week.
“Indeed. I was hoping we could have spent the day going over the things I expect from you. But we can talk about them now.”
“I’m all ears.” I give him a mirthless grin. On seeing it, his eyes narrow with irritation.
“Football is going to be one of the most important things I need you to focus on.”
“You know you don’t have to worry about that.” He doesn’t need to lecture me on football, but, as always, he has to put his two cents in.
I suppose I can understand why. The only other linebacker to go down in history at Raventhorn for being legendary was him.
He and Kade’s father were the same as I am with Kade. They played like one unit, one mind, one body.
When they retired, they bought New York’s team, the Centaurs. That was a venture outside of the family investments business which has made my father billions. His heart has, however, stayed with football.
“I’m just making sure you realize your true potential. You also don’t have to make your choices based on Kade’s.”
“I know that.”
“Things have changed for him now that he’s engaged to that girl.” There’s no mistake in his condescending tone in regard to Isabelle.
She and Kade recently got together. I’m happy for them. It was a long time coming because they’d been jonesing for each other since high school.
They’re perfect for each other, but people like my father will disagree because Isabelle’s father isn’t a Knight. Assholes like my father believe those of pure Knight blood should stick together. No mixing regardless of how useful or valuable the other person may be.
“I doubt things have changed that much for him,” I throw back, borrowing his tone. “I’m sure Isabelle will be an asset to Kade whatever path he chooses.”
Father gives me a wry smile that amplifies the hardness in his eyes. “You speak with determination, Dmitri. I hope that’s not a sign of things to come, or anything, or anyone , I wouldn’t approve of.”
Like always, he’s referring to Mackenzie.
“No.” My answer is a half-truth, but it’s the sensible answer right now.
His eyes turn a shade darker and his focus fiercer, like a hungry wolf ready to maul its prey. “I certainly hope so.”
We rarely talk about Mackenzie, but he knows I’ve never been able to forget her.
I try to fool everyone else into thinking I have by fucking around. But I can’t fool my old man any more than I can myself.
“You stay away from that girl. I will never approve of you being with Mackenzie Domachenkov.” The added warning— with her full name —feels like a bullet piercing my gut.
I’ve been shot before, so I recognize the feeling. And I hate that I have such a crude response to his warning.
I should be able to tell him that he can’t fucking tell me what to do, or dictate who I can be with, but it’s not that simple. Life stopped being simple and my world shifted to that gray area of existence from the moment we found Tommy’s body in the woods with Mackenzie’s father standing over him, his hands bloodied and his hunting knife right next to them. The same knife used to gut the life from my brother.
I can’t argue with my father on that matter. When it comes to the past, my fucking hands are tied behind my back, and it’s not a war I can solve with my fists or my power.
And truthfully, even I know it’s utterly unconscionable for me to have any involvement with Mackenzie, let alone owning her via a contract.
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” I try to change the subject.
“No. But the gentle warning never hurts.” He sets his shoulders back and lifts his chin, standard preparation before delivering one of his I-am-the-law speeches. “Now that you’re officially a Knight, it’s time to talk about getting a marriage contract in place.”
Shit . I knew this discussion was coming.
Marriage contracts are a hot topic right now among the heirs at Raventhorn. Especially for the guys who just went through initiation. The Knights like to have marriages sorted out in the earlier years of your studies so you can focus more on integrating yourself into their way of life during your senior years at Raventhorn.
The other day, Logan was talking about his potential marriage contract because his father broached the subject to him before the summer break. Since our families are all close, I knew it would be a matter of time before I got hit with the same discussion.
“I will find my own wife when the time comes,” I say, keeping my gaze trained on my father.
“I think it’s best I choose for you.”
“No.” I cock my head, clench my jaw, and ball my hand into a fist on the table.
He gives me a no-nonsense grin in response. “I don’t think I have to remind you who holds the keys to your inheritance.”
Of course, he controls everything until I turn twenty-one. And even then, I’ll only receive half of what I’m supposed to get. The remainder will stay under his control to be released when I’m twenty-five.
“You don’t have to remind me. But perhaps you need the reminder that I have fifteen NFL teams scouting me as we speak.”
That shuts him right the hell down, but he keeps up the appearance that he’s boss over me with that grin.
NFL teams scout players from high school as part of their player development process. Then they track them right through to draft day after they graduate college. I’ve had scouts after me since I was fifteen, but they all descended on me like a plague of wild locusts after Raventhorn won the national championships last year.
“I don’t need the reminder.” Father’s voice is as stern as a judge’s, and his Grim Reaper stare is just as stern. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t be foolish enough to turn away your multimillion-dollar fortune.”
“I’m not, but you’re not going to fuck with my mind this year. It’s a big year for me with the college championships. If I do my best this year, I could be looking at signing with the Patriots after graduation. I don’t want extra shit to worry about.” It’s a good excuse, one of my best, because it works.
The harshness in my father’s eyes recedes, removing the darkness of contention, and acceptance loosens his jaw.
Anybody who knows me knows I can play football with my eyes closed. So, I wouldn’t allow a marriage contract to screw with me. I just don’t want the hassle of it, and I don’t want my father meddling where he doesn’t belong.
Fending him off with football is my get-out-of-jail card. He knows the recognition and fame I’ll attract with my talent, especially if I have any future with the Patriots, who are way better than the Centaurs. That’s more important to him than anything else.
“As long as that’s all you’re focused on.” His lips thin with displeasure.
“It is.” Another half-truth .
“Very well. But we’ll discuss the marriage contract again after the championships. I want you to be engaged by the end of the college year.”
I release a slow breath and give him a reluctant nod. I feel like I’m betraying myself again, but I know I won’t win this battle tonight. “Fine.”
“In the meantime, do your best to keep your dick under control. I take my new role as Lord Chancellor very seriously. You will not embarrass me by fathering any bastards or acting like some manwhore on campus.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” I neither have to justify nor explain myself to him, of all the people. He’s forgotten the numerous times I’ve caught him fucking around.
Yuliana has even caught him herself. Any other woman would have left his ass, but their prenup bounds her to stay. She’ll be broke if she divorces him.
“Don’t test me, boy. What I do behind closed doors is no one’s business. But you fuck around for the world to see.”
Maybe he’s right. I fuck to forget the shit on my mind. But I haven’t been that way since I bought the contract for the girl I can’t have.
“Don’t worry about me.” I straighten and steel my spine. “Are we done?”
“Yes. We’ll catch up tomorrow. There’s some stuff I need to go through for Tommy. That was the reason I wanted you here this weekend.”
A lump forms in my stomach and rises into my throat. “What kind of stuff?”
“The rest of his things. I’m sending them to storage. I want to sort through the things we can dispose of.”
I stare back at him and take in the grief lurking in the corners of his eyes. Very little was sent to the storage unit he’s talking about. It was mostly the stuff that was already packed away in the attic that Tommy didn’t use. We still kept all the things he used on a daily basis to the point where his room looks the same, as if any moment now, he’ll be back.
“Why? Why now?” I keep my tone low and respectful, removing the harshness that was there.
“It’s time. Time to let them go. It’s… not like he’s coming back.”
“No. He’s not.” I bite the inside of my lip, tamping down the wave of angst threatening to break free. I never know which emotion I should feel for Tommy.
Regardless of what happened, I didn’t want him to die.
“I’m also considering selling the house.”
I raise my brows, and my jaw goes slack. He’s always been adamant that he was never going to move. If we were ever going to sell, it should been after Tommy’s death, but back then, he was more determined to stay than ever. He wanted Mackenzie’s family to move, insisting that he didn’t want to live next to the man who murdered his son.
“Is it time for that, too? To sell?”
“Maybe. There’s little point in keeping the place now that Yuliana and I will be based at Raventhorn. My partnership with Logan’s father also allows everything at Valneko Investments to run itself now. I’m not really needed in New York.”
“I guess not.”
“I’m thinking of buying a house somewhere in Boston, near Raventhorn. I need somewhere off campus. I think Yuliana would appreciate that, too.”
“That’s understandable.”
“It’s also good for Bratva business. I’d like to keep that off campus.”
“I didn’t think you’d be doing that now that your Lord Chancellor.”
“They still need me.”
The Knights run the Komarovsky Bratva, and Aleksander Ivanov is the Pakhan. My father helps take care of the finances for the entire organization and assists Aleksander with the more illicit business run by the Bratva.
“I guess it’s nice to be so needed.”
“It keeps me busy. The point is, I’ll hardly be here, so it makes sense to sell the house. Unless you want it?” He gives me a wry smile.
I think about my answer. There are a lot of memories here. Both good and bad. For me, there are more sentiments that I never thought I’d have to say goodbye to.
I think of the boy I used to be and the girl next door. We’re both all grown up now, and so much has happened to drive us apart. But to me, we still feel like those people.
“I’ll get back to you on that,” I decide to say.
“Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t. I’ll get some boxes together in the morning for Tommy’s things.”
His flinty gaze returns. “See you then.”
I dip my head and leave. Like always, his eyes follow me.
I know there was more he wanted to say, but the two of us play the same game where we challenge each other a little at a time. Like we’re playing perpetual chess.
I head up to my room and go out on the balcony, needing some air.
The moment I step outside, the crisp night breeze takes the edge off my mind with the lulling effect of a drug.
Here, I’m directly opposite Mackenzie’s bedroom. Although it’s roughly fifteen feet away, it’s always seemed like I could reach out and touch it. Reach out and touch her .
Our houses are just as big as the other multi-million dollar homes in the Hamptons, but this space here was ours.
I pull a cigarette and a lighter from my back pocket. Seconds later, I’m drawing thick, rich smoke into my lungs. Then I see her.
As if she just materialized from my fantasies, Mackenzie walks into the smaller hall downstairs.
My eyes glue to my former best friend’s lush little body, and I allow myself the pleasure of admiring her from head to toe.
Tonight, she’s got her long honey-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s dressed in a full-black leotard with tiny straps over her elegant shoulders. It makes her look daintier and shows off all the right assets I can’t unsee.
At five feet four, Mackenzie is built like a little Barbie doll and compliments my six-foot-four stature.
Unlike most ballerinas who have a willowy figure and a flat chest, her body is more athletic and sculpted. And she has just the right amount of breasts to make a man like me happy.
She floats into the center of the room and starts dancing. I can just about hear the dulcet tones of piano music. Bach. Her favorite.
I haven’t seen her since we left college for the summer break. The poor thing was stuck in her usual daze, waiting for me to talk to her about our contract.
I’ll admit I’ve been a bastard, dodging the conversation we need to have. It’s astounding—and yes, unfair—that I’ve avoided it for three whole months and kept her like a collectable ornament on my shelf, waiting and wondering what’s happening. She must be going crazy.
The only reason I’ve gotten away with avoiding the confrontation was the two-month summer break. The month before that, I was away a lot for the final trials and Knight training.
In two weeks, when we’re back on campus, I know I’ll have to face her.
Given my father’s warning and watchful eye, it would be safer and more sensible to keep avoiding her, but it doesn’t feel right.
Until it’s time to speak, I’ll continue watching her— stalking her —from afar.
She’s getting ready to practice. She’s currently doing the summer show for the New York City Ballet. It’s her first big break.
Unbeknownst to her, I watched her perform on opening night. Then I got hooked on her and saw a few more shows that week.
We may not speak anymore, but I’ve made it my business to know everything I can about her.
Every time I see her dance, she seems to get better and better. It’s hard to believe that there was a time when she never believed she would be able to dance. Or that she was the worst in her class.
I’m instantly stolen away from my thoughts when her body flows into each movement with the grace of swans gliding across a lake.
There’s a desperation in the way she moves, a sharpness, a rawness, yet she still manages to maintain the delicate elegance of a ballerina. Every line of her body is a story, each spin and stretch a secret she’ll never tell.
That’s her talent. The ability to summon and control every emotion with her dancing. With just one sequence of moves, she can make you feel everything. Even things you never thought you could feel. And that’s just from watching her. Touching her is a different story altogether.
The thought of touching her makes the knots inside me tighten with lust.
Lust from the kiss we never got to have.
I was supposed to kiss her on the night the world changed.
Haunting memories of the past slither into my mind with that thought.
Depending on who you ask in our families, they’ll tell you the reason for the feud was Tommy’s death and the suspicion that Mackenzie’s father killed him.
But the real reason for the feud was her.
It was suspected that Tommy kidnapped her. That suspicion was instigated by me.
Tommy was a raging psycho I could never figure out, but like me, he seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with Mackenzie.
Weeks before he died, it got really bad, and he started taking inappropriate—virtually naked—pictures of her that he’d show me. He always taunted me about kidnapping and raping her.
I never knew if he really was obsessed or if he was just fucking with my mind, because that’s what he was like. At the time, he was nineteen, had a girlfriend, and I couldn’t imagine him wanting to be with a fourteen-year-old girl.
But when she went missing and he did, too, I assumed the worst.
When they didn’t turn up for four days, I told her father about Tommy’s obsession, doing so against my father’s wishes. Back then, I had no power, but I had enough resilience in me to get help where I thought I could.
My father ripped into me, but raising the alarm gave us more clues on where Mackenzie had been.
I was with him when he tracked her down in a deserted cabin in the woods. A deserted cabin that Tommy had been using. She was unconscious and covered in blood.
But we weren’t the first to get there and find her.
We found Tommy next. He lay not far from the cabin with Adrian hovering over his body with guilt written all over him.
And that’s where everything fell into the gray area. We don’t know what time he got there, and my father didn’t trust Adrian’s alibi.
I can’t say one way or the other if I do or don’t.
And the worst thing? Mackenzie doesn’t remember anything. Not one damn thing.
Whatever happened to her knocked it out of her mind. She said she fell and hit her head. That was the only relevant thing she remembered. Everything else was from days before when she was around people.
The truth that could give us answers is locked away in her mind.
The truth my father and I believe has been the only truth we’ve held on to.
It was too logical for it not to be true that Adrian must have found Mackenzie and killed Tommy for taking his daughter. But he maintains that’s not what happened.
He claims to have found the two of them the same way we did. However, he has said repeatedly that he wished he had killed Tommy for whatever he did to Mackenzie.
The aftermath was even more horrendous because Aleksander Ivanov absolved Adrian due to lack of evidence.
Crimes amongst the Knights are not dealt with in a normal civilian court. We have our own laws and our own justice system.
To murder a Knight automatically results in the death sentence. Or if Aleksander needs to keep you alive, you go to the Hallows, the Knights’ prison which only he knows the location of.
We thought either of those options awaited Adrian, but the evidence was inconclusive. The coroner wasn’t able to give a solid answer on how long Tommy had been dead.
The time frame that was agreed on the autopsy excused Adrian by almost two hours. He was supposedly with his private investigator, trying to find Mackenzie.
My father doesn’t believe that. Neither do I.
I can’t imagine how we’re supposed to when guilt points toward him. And he had a reason.
Tommy kidnapped, assaulted, and did fuck knows what else to Mackenzie.
The truth is, I wanted to kill him, too, for what he did.
I’ve never spoken those words outside my head. But my father knows how I feel.
The details of the investigation were never shared with the public. Only the people who were involved in the investigation know.
We weren’t allowed to talk about our suspicions to anyone. As my father and Adrian are both senior Knights and judges on the council, defaming each other would garner more severe punishments.
Everyone wondered how my family and Mackenzie’s went from being friends to enemies overnight. But people did the math and figured out that it had something to do with Tommy’s death.
Despite the warnings, I would have told Kade and Logan years ago, but I’ve never spoken about what happened until I took over Mackenzie’s contract. The two secrets went hand in hand.
Kade, Logan, and I are as close as brothers, so I couldn’t tell them about the contract without telling them about the past.
Mackenzie leaps through the air, the movement slicing through my mind like a blade. I’m pulled back to the present once more and the situation I’ve landed us in.
To say it’s complicated is beyond understatement.
All I’m certain of is that I still want her. My father’s rules, warnings, and threats won’t stop that.
Neither will they stop me from thinking of ways to have her.
I own her for the next six months.
That sounds like music to my fucked-up mind.