Chapter 38 Dimitri
DIMITRI
A low knock on the door jolted me out of sleep.
The room was dark, Sienna’s gentle breathing the only sound as she curled up against my side.
Her bare skin pressed against mine, soft and warm and perfect.
I wanted to peel back the sheet and uncover her body.
Kiss every inch of her skin. Thrust inside her like I was coming home.
The longing inside me was almost overwhelming. I wanted to keep her.
I squinted at my watch to see it was only six in the morning. This was not a promising start to the day.
I slowly slid out of the bed, being careful to not wake my wife. She made a soft little sound in the back of her throat and rolled over, wrapping her arms around a pillow.
When I cracked the door open, I found Maxim looking tense as fuck.
“Sveta got a message,” he said.
A cold chill ran down my spine. “Local?”
He lifted his chin in assent. Fuck.
Last year, we had rescued a small group of trafficked women, including Sveta, from a mansion on the outskirts of Chicago.
None of them spoke a word those first few days.
I would never forget their blank faces, haunted eyes, and hollowed cheeks.
But I also couldn’t forget how they slowly came back to life as Polina won their trust.
Sveta was the first to confide in her, sharing that half of the women she’d been imprisoned with had been moved to another location just days before our raid.
Aleksei dug through scattered records, emails, and data from cell phone towers and eventually confirmed that the missing women had been split up and sold to separate buyers.
The news had been devastating for all of us, but especially Sveta, who carried the heavy weight of survivor’s guilt.
We’d spent months searching for them, sparing no resources, but Sveta was the one who had made the real difference by forming a whisper network. She had become legendary amongst trafficking victims. They whispered her name and passed on her number. So far, we’d rescued four of the missing women.
Maybe one of the remaining survivors had managed to get Sveta a message?
I glanced back at the shapeless blob underneath my bedspread, fighting the urge to crawl back under the covers and drown out the world with Sienna.
My fingers clamped the doorframe while I sighed. “I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”
When I returned home hours later, my skin was crawling with the inconvenient urge to have my wife in my arms. After two decades of barely tolerating touch, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t shake the unfamiliar desire bubbling up inside me.
Maybe it was all the time I’d spent lately in the sunroom that had caused the strange affliction.
It was the one room in this house where I’d always felt safe, always felt loved.
Or maybe it was seeing the girl we rescued so broken and fragile.
Extractions like this forced me to confront my own helplessness.
They were reminders of the lives I couldn’t save.
The pain I’d suffered at his hands for years, with no way to stop it.
Until I did.
Rescuing Zorya was a drop in the ocean of my redemption—worthwhile because she was worthy of a safe, peaceful life. A drop because nothing I did could ever wash my hands clean.
The house was quiet as I passed through the living room. Early afternoon light filtered through the windows in a stark contrast to the darkness of the outside world. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but my needs came second to Sienna’s.
I released an exasperated huff when I entered the kitchen and saw Vovk sitting quietly at Polina’s feet while she fed him bite-sized pieces of steak.
“Lazy bastard,” I grumbled. “You shouldn’t feed him. He can hunt.”
Polina ignored me, cooing at Vovk while she fed him the rest of the steak. “He’s been a very good boy today, so he deserves a little snack.”
She turned to the sink, but not before I glimpsed her face. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. She silently started washing dishes, her shoulders tense, movements clumsy.
My breath gusted from my nose, and my palm pressed against the twinge in my chest. Polina was one of the strongest people I knew.
We had survived the compound together, made it out together.
Yet even after a decade of knowing each other, of living in the same shitty apartment together, I could count on one hand the times I’d seen her cry.
Her rare tears always came as a response to others’ suffering.
Like me, she seemed incapable of shedding tears for herself.
“You don’t have to do that, you know. I can hire additional staff so you don’t have to clean.” It was an offer I’d made countless times, but she always responded—“I don’t mind doing dishes.”
I drummed my fingers against the counter. “Sveta, Maxim, and Konstantin are driving the girl to a safe house.”
Polina nodded. Sveta had probably texted her all the updates already.
The girl, Zorya, wasn’t one of the missing women we’d been searching for, but had been trafficked under the guise of similar promises that lured Sveta—of good jobs and high salaries in the U.S.
—only to be sold to a high-profile Chicago politician.
Zorya had been trapped in his house, alone and abused in a country that wasn’t her own.
A maid in the home had told her about a woman who had made it out and was now helping other victims escape.
She had helped Zorya, and her parting gift had been a cell phone.
Zorya dialed the number she’d repeated to herself thousands of times until it was imprinted in her brain.
Zorya’s rescue was Sveta’s victory, and I couldn’t have been more proud. While my hands dripped with blood every night in my dreams, hers were unblemished. The survivor’s guilt she carried didn’t belong to her, and I hoped today’s rescue would help her relinquish it.
“Has Sienna eaten lunch?” I asked, because the things I wished I could say to Polina—assurances that she was safe, that I would do whatever I could to rescue more women and girls—lodged in my throat.
Polina shook her head. “She’s wrapped up in her computer game. I was about to make her a plate.” She finished with the dishes and dried her hands. “I suppose I can make one for you, too.”
“You are most gracious.”
I dried dishes while she plated steak, potatoes, and salad.
“Take the rest of the day off,” I said when I took the plates from her. I braced for her to argue, but she surprised me with a curt nod. Vovk followed her out of the kitchen, and I felt a strange gratitude at the wolf for keeping her company.
I turned down the opposite hall to the sunroom, stopping short in the doorway and scrunching my eyebrows as I tried to figure out what my wife was doing.
Sienna was sprawled across the couch in a position that looked equally absurd and uncomfortable.
Her legs were slung up on the back cushions, her feet tapping some unknown rhythm in the air, and her head hung partially off the couch while she did something on her phone.
Sienna was always in motion. The only time I’d seen her body fully settled was after I fucked her into utter exhaustion.
She only noticed me when I set the plates down on the coffee table in front of her.
“Oh, hi,” she said. “Whatcha doing?”
“What am I doing? What the fuck are you doing? How is that position remotely comfortable?”
She stuck her tongue out and returned to her phone. A strange emotion rose in me, and I suspected it could be jealousy. I wanted her attention.
I sat down beside her.
“I’m still dealing with ice cream shop drama,” she said. “It’s been a mess since Mary Margaret ran off with Elio, but I’m determined to make it a success.”
Before I realized what I was doing, I pulled her legs onto my lap. The tightness in my chest loosened and I could breathe again.
After a few minutes, she put down her phone and smiled. “Okay, the villagers are under control now.” She glanced over at the plates. “What’d you bring me?”
“Steak, potatoes, and vegetables. You need real food. You cannot exist only on bread, cheese, and chocolate.”
Her lips pursed. “I’m pretty sure I can.”
I grasped her hand and pulled her into a seated position. My fingers gripped her jaw and I leaned in so our noses brushed together.
She trailed light touches down my cheek. “You haven’t shaved.”
“Didn’t have time.” Something twinged in my chest and I added, “I had a last-minute meeting this morning.”
I wasn’t used to explaining myself, but I didn’t like the thought of her waking alone, unsure of where I’d gone. My confession was worth it when the line between her brows smoothed out and a smile played on her lips.
“Here.” I handed the plate to her.
She curled her legs underneath her before taking it. My hand twitched as I fought the urge to drag her onto my lap. She couldn’t know how much I wanted her, how much she distracted me every waking moment. It wasn’t safe.
Instead, I grabbed my food and started eating.
“What do you think of the couch?” she asked a few minutes later.
I grunted. I’d watched delivery men set up the couch through the house cameras. They had looked at my wife way too fucking much, which made me hate the couch on principle. Even if it felt like sitting on a cloud.
“I’m going to order some armchairs so there’s more seating,” she continued.
“More seating for who?” I muttered.
“For whoever might visit,” she said slyly.
I narrowed my eyes. “And who might these visitors be?”
“Did you know Christmas is only like four weeks away?” Her voice was suspiciously nonchalant. “It’s such a fun time of year, and what better way to spend it than with family?”
I stared at her in silence, waiting her out.
She let out a huff and ran her hand through her hair. “Sofiya and I were talking, and I offered to host Christmas. And before you say something grumpy, it’s a good plan. The New York apartment is a little tight to fit everyone, whereas we have oodles of space here.”
“Oodles?”
“Yes. Oodles. And if my timeline pans out, the guest bedrooms will all have floors and doors by then.”
I ate another bite of food, taking my time chewing.
Sienna nudged my arm. “What do you think? Bratva family Christmas?”
Hosting a rival Mafia family in my home?
I should say no. Put my foot down. Except.
..that would make her upset. But I didn’t have to be the bad guy here—there was no fucking way Rossi would bring his family to Chicago.
A political alliance was one thing, but spending the holidays together?
That was an extreme exercise in trust. “Yes, fine. Sofiya knows she’s always welcome here. ”
Sienna let out a squeal. She grabbed her phone and hurriedly typed out a text. Her eyes were bright when she put it down beside her. “Excellent. I told her you were especially eager to see Matteo.”
I rolled my eyes, but now it was my turn to nudge her in the arm. “Eat.” She’d taken a few bites of lunch, but her plate was still too full.
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “But baby Pomegranate wants a cinnamon roll.”
I tipped her chin but hesitated before speaking.
Fuck it. I’d fucked her in my bed last night, woken up with her naked body pressed against mine.
We were halfway to hell anyway, might as well jump in all the way.
“Good girls eat what they’re told.” I skimmed my nose down her cheek, catching notes of vanilla from her hair.
“If you eat your lunch, I’ll eat your pussy for dessert. ”
Her pupils dilated, and she shifted closer until our lips were touching in a barely there kiss. “And if I don’t?”
“You’ll take me into your mouth and suck me until I’ve come enough times to fill your stomach.”
She pressed a smile to my lips before taking a bite of steak. When I smirked, she elbowed me. “Stop gloating and eat.”
I took another bite.
“Just be sure to leave room for dessert,” she added.
Fuck.