Chapter Twelve
Inna Grace
I knew there was a reason Dmitri was forcing me to be his wife, and I was right.
Before I walked here, I overheard the truth while in the washroom.
Two ladies walked in while I was using the toilet and talked the way people do when they assume no one is listening.
They worked for Dmitri in the company, and one of them said a lot about me.
That was how I found out about Malia. The woman Dmitri was supposed to marry.
An arrangement that was there before I walked into his world with a stolen briefcase.
Dmitri didn’t want her. The girls made that clear too.
Though the way she said it told me she found Dmitri’s decision deeply unreasonable.
The other lady said he would discard me in a few months. And that’s how I knew Dmitri was using me to get rid of this Malia girl.
I didn’t know Dmitri well enough to predict him. But standing beside him, with his hand at my waist, I understood my position clearly. I was a tool. He would let me go the moment I stopped being useful.
That was how I came up with my own plan.
Dmitri was powerful, that much was obvious from every corner of this room. Maybe I didn’t have to wait for him to discard me. Before that happened, I could use him the same way he was using me.
If he tracked where Cole and I were staying, he could trace my father.
If he wanted sex, I would give him that.
If he needed a wife for a few months, I would play the part.
But I needed something in return, and I had to ask for it before the window closed.
If lowering myself to that level was the price, then I would pay it.
Cole needed at least one parent back, and I didn’t have any other options.
Dmitri stayed by my side as we moved through the room.
I tried to focus on breathing normally while wearing a million-dollar necklace.
It felt less like jewelry and more like a target someone painted on me in diamonds.
There were other pieces in the glass display.
But I was wearing the most expensive one, which seemed like a very specific way to get killed.
People looked at me as we walked, and I knew they were looking at the necklace. My body kept reacting like everyone’s eyes were weapons. I was sweating through the silver dress and hoping it didn’t show.
The woman I found Dmitri with when I walked in was still nearby.
The way I saw Dmitri lean on her told me enough to know his type.
I probably interrupted when I arrived wearing his necklace.
The comment about sex was either leftover energy from whatever the two were having or a new plan he was forming.
“Beautiful,” a man said, appearing at my side and reaching for my hand. Before I could process the movement, his lips dropped toward my knuckles.
Dmitri was faster.
“Careful, Malcolm.” His voice didn’t need volume to land. “I invited you. That doesn’t mean we’re that close.”
Malcolm laughed and pulled his hand back to himself. “Apologies. I meant the necklace. It’s remarkable.”
Dmitri didn’t spare Malcolm another second.
He simply moved and expected the room to adjust, which it did.
People shifted when he came near, older men included, men who had clearly been in rooms like this long before Dmitri was old enough to host them.
They nodded, stepped back, and waited to be acknowledged. He was filthy rich. That explained it.
We arrived at the red lipstick lady, and I kept my attention on Dmitri’s hand at my back, waiting for him to remove it. But he didn’t. He stood beside me as if I were someone special to him, which I knew wasn’t true in any sense.
Her eyes went straight to the necklace. “I don’t know about the others, but I’m taking this one.” She leaned in slightly, studying it. “A masterpiece. I have never seen anything like it.”
“Show me your best,” Dmitri said, and steered me further into the room.
I glanced back at her once. I genuinely could not explain this man. When I walked in, he was all over her, and now he was acting like she was nobody.
The viewing moved around us, and I followed wherever Dmitri took me.
I couldn’t say I was bored. There was something fascinating about watching people with more money than sense become emotional over jewelry.
They spoke in lowered voices as if they were in the presence of something sacred. That kept me entertained at least.
“Iker Perez.”
Dmitri’s voice changed when saying that name. He greeted the others with the mild civility of a man fulfilling a social obligation. With this one, he said it as if he anticipated this specific moment to say it out loud.
I looked at the man in front of us, and something in me immediately pulled tight. He looked awfully familiar. He was older, well-dressed, and composed. He was looking at me even as he responded to Dmitri.
We definitely met before. I didn’t know where or when, but his face wasn’t a stranger’s face.
I moved closer to Dmitri on instinct, and his hand at my back pressed me more firmly without being asked. He held me closer, and it made me feel safe.
They talked, but I wasn’t hearing a word. I was too busy turning the man’s face over in my mind, searching for where I filed it, which year, which version of my life it belonged to. Nothing came—just the feeling of knowing something about him.
“I can see the necklace interests you,” Dmitri said.
I pulled my attention back to them.
“Both,” Iker said, and let the word sit there. “Both the necklace and the lady.”
Whatever showed on my face or moved through my body in that moment, Dmitri felt it. I knew because it was the first time he introduced me as his wife.
“That’s where we draw the line, Iker. I don’t entertain men lusting after my wife.”
“No,” Iker straightened slightly. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“You know what I let you know.” Dmitri’s hand moved at my back as he stepped forward, a quiet signal that the conversation was closing. “I hope you find something worthy of your night.”
“Excuse me.” Iker stopped us, and Dmitri, to my surprise, actually paused. I spent enough time beside this man to know he didn’t halt for people. The fact that he stopped for Iker said a lot. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”
He was asking me.
Dmitri sighed. “Perez.” His voice dropped, but nothing about it was soft. “I believe I made the line clear.”
“Of course.” Iker raised his hands briefly. “I only wanted to compliment her. My daughter would love her, actually.” He chuckled. “She has the same taste in hair.”
The tension didn’t leave. It just rearranged itself.
This man knew me. I was certain of it now. I never forgot a face, only the context around it.
“Let’s keep the focus on what the evening is for,” Dmitri declared.
Iker moved his eyes from me to Dmitri. “Of course.”
We were already leaving before his response finished. I exhaled, glad that we didn’t stay longer with that old man.
“I don’t like him,” I told Dmitri while we moved.
“Why? You think I’d arrange for him to fuck you?”
I stared up at him. “That is all you can seriously say?”
“He was looking at you like he wanted to eat you where you stood.”
“Nothing about the way he looked at me suggested that.” I rolled my eyes. Was there a single conversation this man couldn’t route back to sex?
Dmitri stopped and turned to face me fully. “Tell me more. Sounds like you know how to read people.”
I exhaled. “He looked familiar. And you could tell he knew me from the way he kept asking about me.”
“Come on, wife.” His eyes dropped to my lips and came back up without apology. “You look edible. Have you seen yourself? Your shoulders are doing things to every man in this room. And when that slit moves, there isn’t a single dick in here that isn’t paying attention.”
I stared at him. It was clear that his weakness was sex.
If I didn’t want something from him, I could have let my face say exactly what I thought about men who let their cock do all the talking.
He was handsome, annoyingly handsome, but that wasn’t enough on its own for me, and it would not start being enough tonight.
“Don’t act disgusted,” he said. “I’m still fucking you tonight.”
I looked away. “When are we done here?”
“Why? You want it that badly?”
“Yes,” I said. “Maybe it’ll remind me I’m not losing my mind and that I am, in fact, trapped inside your world.”
A smirk pulled on his lips, amusement settling in at the edges. His hand moved to my lower back and rested where it had no business resting.
“Trapped is the wrong word.” His voice dropped. “If I wanted you to feel trapped, I’d be keeping you in a basement, tied up, fucking you whichever way I wanted until you learned never to lie about having a husband again.”
The goosebumps moved across my skin.
“But as much as I want that,” his lips grazed my ear, “I still want you out here. Troubling men.”
I swallowed. “When will you let me go?”
He chuckled against my ear. “I haven’t decided yet. I get bored easily, though, so who knows.”
He just confirmed that he would discard me, so I knew I needed to act before that happened.
After the viewing on the seventh floor, the guests filtered down to the basement, where the auction was taking place. My part was done, and Dmitri sent me back to the penthouse. It was fine by me because I had no interest in watching people outbid each other.
Cole was living his best life.
By the time I got there, he had already eaten and somehow managed to acquire a stack of books. He was completely at home in a penthouse that cost more per night than our monthly rent.
I spent the time doing something more useful.
The penthouse was exactly like everything else in Dmitri’s life. The view made problems feel distant, then brought them back when you looked away.