Chapter 18 Dimitri
DIMITRI
The overhead light bounced off the minuscule facets of the gems. A line of rainbow sapphires. Large emeralds. Pristine diamonds.
“These were mined and exported at Bratva-owned mining sites in Russia,” Maxim said, sweeping a hand over the black cloth. “We also procure curated selections of rare jewelry to sell on the black market.”
I controlled the urge to roll my eyes. Procurement might sound better than theft, but it all boiled down to the same thing. How Maxim maintained a serious expression while he spouted this shit was beyond me, but he’d always been a skilled salesperson.
“So, you need port access for importing?” Rossi asked.
My expression remained blank even as I bristled at the suggestion that I needed him for anything. I didn’t fucking need anyone outside my inner circle. With them, I’d stolen my father’s empire from right under his nose. But Sofiya was married to Rossi, so I needed to play nice.
I lifted my chin. “We’ve had no problems with our Canadian trading routes and could continue importing from the north.”
Maxim threw me an exasperated look.
“However,” I said, drawing out the word, “access to Boston and New York sea ports would allow us to expand distribution.”
Rossi peered closely at the gems and launched into technical questions about the mining and exporting process, which Maxim answered—not because I didn’t know the answers, but because I never wanted to talk about this shit again.
The information had been beaten into me for hours as a young child.
Every incorrect response had earned me a strike on the hand.
I clenched my fists, the white scars shining in the light.
I could still feel the sting. Still hear his cruel voice.
Is there nothing between your stupid fucking ears, Dimitri? What have I done to be cursed with a son this idiotic?
Dead. He was dead. I had fantasized about pulling the trigger so many times, but in the end, Sofiya had been the one who killed him.
I’d done my best to shield her from suffering, and while I may have protected her from the very worst of our father’s attentions, it hadn’t been enough to fully save her.
She’d earned the honor of ending him. But on rare nights, a dream slipped in between my nightmares.
One where I killed the bastard. I’d watched the light leave his eyes so many times in this dreamworld that it almost made bearing my nightmares worth it.
Maxim and Rossi negotiated what the Italians’ cut would be for the use of their port. I glanced over at Finnegan, who was staying oddly silent. I didn’t know much about the Irish leader. He kept to himself, content to rule over Boston without a hunger for more. Unusual in our line of work.
When he caught me studying him, his responding smile was broader and more at ease than any expression I’d ever made.
He leaned in and spoke in a low voice, like we were in on the same secret.
“Once these two stop arguing and finally come to an agreement, I’ll just jump on to whatever terms they agreed on.
But don’t let them know that.” He winked. Fucking winked.
Rossi rolled his eyes at Finnegan’s perfectly audible stage whisper.
The sun sank lower in the sky as the negotiations dragged on.
Matteo wanted access to our weapons manufacturer, and Ronan needed help setting up money laundering hubs at his new line of medical dispensaries. This led to a drawn out discussion on accounting that made me want to slam my head against the wall.
By the time we shook on our agreed-upon terms, the sun hovered at the horizon and I had reached my limit on socializing. Unfortunately, I had a whole dinner to get through.
Maxim smirked as we entered Rossi’s apartment.
The bastard knew how much I hated this. I was only staying so I could check on Sofiya.
She said she was happy being married to Rossi, but I needed to see it with my own eyes.
Which was why I was currently watching the Don feed dinner to a dog wearing a ridiculous white vest and black bowtie.
Sofiya loved dressing up her service dog, Noodle, and frequently sent absurd pictures of his new outfits in the Ivanov sibling group chat. Why Rossi tolerated it, I had no idea.
Finnegan nudged my shoulder. “Do you think he poisoned the food, or is that what your face always looks like?”
I shot him a scowl, and he chuckled. “Ahh, it’s just your face. Good. I’ve heard Sofiya’s an amazing baker. I’d hate to die before dessert.”
Noodle suddenly ran to the front door, his whole body wiggling. It swung open a few seconds later, revealing Sofiya and her bodyguard, Angelo. My sister let out a happy squeak and rolled towards me in her wheelchair. My long strides closed the space between us, and I leaned down to accept her hug.
“It’s so good to see you.” She beamed up at me, looking happier than I’d ever seen her. The tension in my chest eased. Not completely—I doubted that was even possible—but seeing her happy and safe made my sacrifices worth it.
Mila skipped over with Clementine in her arms.
“Hey dochenka, this is your Uncle Dimi. Can you wave hi?” Sofiya cooed in Russian.
My niece and I observed each other. She stared at me with big blue eyes.
I gave her a nod. “It is nice to meet you, zayka.”
Mila snorted. “You’re ridiculous.” She pulled Sofiya and me into a hug, and Clementine giggled as she was squished between us.
“I’m so happy we’re all together,” Mila said once we pulled apart. Her expression turned sly as she glanced up at me. “This is nice, right? So nice we could maybe…stay longer?”
My jaw clenched and she started whining, clearly reading the denial on my face.
“Dimi, please. We could just—”
“No, Mila.”
She flinched at my harsh tone, and I looked away. A curvy woman with dark brown and pink hair and freckles bounced inside and was quickly swept up in Romeo’s arms. That must be Juliet.
“Dimi—” Sofiya started, but I shook my head.
I hadn’t told them about the looming threat, the enemy taunting me from the shadows. I wanted to shield them from it. Mila was chafing at the additional protections, but what else was I to do?
Sofiya arched an eyebrow. “We’ll talk about this later.”
My lips twitched from amusement that she thought she could win an argument with me, and from pride at how strong she’d grown.
“Are you hungry? I think we’re all here…” Sofiya glanced over her shoulder as the last person entered the apartment and closed the door behind them.
My heart fucking stopped.
“Sorry, I was just talking to—” She spotted me and froze.
Our eyes locked, and a red haze fell over my vision.
It was her. Emma. The woman from Paris who had consumed my thoughts for weeks.
“You,” I snarled. I whirled to face Rossi. “What the fuck is this?” My hand went to my back, where my gun usually rested against my skin. Was this why Rossi had insisted we not bring weapons into the apartment? Because he was leading me into a fucking trap?
“I…what?” Emma’s eyes were wide with shock. It looked convincing, but she had been convincing the entire time in Paris.
“Dimi?” Sofiya’s voice was soft and hesitant. “What’s going on? Do you know Sienna?”
Not Emma. Sienna fucking Rossi.
I stepped in front of my sisters and turned to Rossi, eyes blazing. “Is this how you treat family?” I spat out. “Our alliance wasn’t enough, so you sent your sister to seduce me?”
The Don’s expression darkened. “What are you talking about?”
Sienna swore and pressed her hand against her stomach and the small bump there.
My chest tightened as the pieces of the puzzle slotted together.
Sienna must have seen the realization in my face, because she quickly dropped her hand. “We need to talk.” Her eyes flitted to her brother, then back to mine. “Alone.”