Chapter 20
Dimitri stepped into her office that evening and paused, watching her for a long moment.
Giselle sat at her desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, muttering under her breath as she fixed whatever error she had just made.
The tension in her shoulders, the tight line of her mouth—she was wound up so tightly that he could practically see the stress radiating from her.
"Giselle," he said.
She jumped, whipping around in her chair, eyes wide with alarm. "Sir!" she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.
Dimitri chuckled, closing the distance between them. “Nothing is going to happen tonight, Giselle. Let’s just have dinner and talk. Like last night.”
She exhaled heavily, relief flashing across her face before she nodded. "That would be really nice," she admitted, and that was exactly what he had wanted to hear.
"Come on," he gestured for her to shut down her computer. "You can update me on your progress while I make you chicken parmesan."
Her eyebrows lifted. “Isn’t that difficult to cook?” she asked as she locked down her computer, then gathered her purse and phone.
“Not if you know what you’re doing.”
He held the door for her as they stepped into the hallway, and together they made their way toward the penthouse stairwell. Dimitri noticed that she was more relaxed than the evening before. Was she getting comfortable around him? The thought pleased him more than it should have.
Giselle was unlike any woman he’d ever known.
Feisty yet reserved, independent but too easily manipulated by the people who claimed to love her.
She was an odd contradiction, and she fascinated him in a way he hadn’t expected.
His world was ruthless, filled with power plays, deceit, and violence.
He dominated it because he was more merciless than those who tried to challenge him.
But Giselle? She was different. She didn’t fit into that world. She was warm, generous, and far too willing to give. She had no idea how much of herself she sacrificed to keep the peace with people who didn’t deserve her loyalty.
His thoughts were interrupted when her phone rang.
The sound echoed through the stairwell—"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall…"
Dimitri snorted, amused. Giselle scrambled to pull her phone out of her purse, checked the screen, and rolled her eyes while silencing the call.
“Your father?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” She shoved the phone back into her bag with a heavy sigh. “I took your advice and told my mother this morning that I wasn’t going to pay her credit card bill. That she needed to return the items she bought if she couldn’t afford them.”
Dimitri’s smirk faded. That small admission held so much weight. He knew it was the first time she’d ever drawn a hard line with her family. His chest filled as he watched her, reading the mixture of emotions on her face—guilt, defiance, exhaustion.
“Interesting,” he commented, then began pulling ingredients from the huge fridge. “What did she say?”
Giselle settled onto a stool, primly folding her hands onto the countertop.
“I didn’t really give her a chance to respond, but I have several text messages from her.
I’m guessing they are all about how I was such a difficult birth, all the ways she sacrificed herself for me during my younger years, how I’m a horrible daughter who doesn’t respect her parents and… well, a lot more along those lines.”
“Does she bring out the emotional manipulation often?’
Giselle looked at him curiously. “Only when I don’t give in to her requests.”
“Is it always money?”
“Yeah.” She pressed her lips together, nodding her head slightly.
“That’s pretty much all she needs from me.
” Then she perked up. “Correction. She loves to call and complain about my dad and how he drinks all the time. Or when he doesn’t come home for dinner because he’s at the pub down the street.
” She shrugged. “It’s a dysfunctional family at its best.”
He started pounding the chicken with a mallet. “All families are at least slightly dysfunctional, Giselle.” He tossed spices into a flour mixture. “You just happen to be the only sane one in yours.”
Giselle tilted her head. “Am I though?”
He started cracking eggs. “What do you mean?”
Dimitri’s scowl deepened as he processed her question, but he kept his hands steady, slicing through the chicken with controlled precision. The rhythmic motion should have been calming, but the anger simmering inside him only grew stronger.
“Elliot grabbed me today while I was taking a walk during my lunch break. He said he just wanted to talk.”
Dimitri froze, then carefully put the knife down. He shifted to stare at her.
“He what?”
Giselle sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“Like I said, he wanted to talk. He grabbed my arm, tried to get me to go somewhere with him, but I refused. He kept begging, saying he needed my help, that I could talk to you, convince you to give him his job back.” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “As if I have that kind of influence over you.”
Dimitri’s jaw ticked as he considered what she’d just said. “You have more influence than you think.”
She blinked up at him, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze. “What?”
He ignored her question. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she answered immediately, then hesitated. “Well, not really. I mean, he grabbed my arm, but it wasn’t…”
Dimitri’s expression darkened. “It wasn’t what?” His voice was low, dangerous.
She sighed. “It wasn’t aggressive. Just desperate. I pulled away, told him no, and walked off. That was it.”
“That was not it,” he growled, turning to face her fully. He braced his hands on the counter, muscles tense. “He put his hands on you. That’s not acceptable.”
Giselle exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into her voice. “Dimitri, I handled it. He’s just a pathetic jerk who lost his job and doesn’t know what to do now.”
“That pathetic man tried to corner you, get you alone. If he had been a little more desperate, a little more unhinged, what could have happened?” His voice was controlled, but the fury behind it was palpable.
She sighed and looked away. “I don’t know.”
He reached out, tipping her chin up until she met his eyes again. “Exactly. And I refuse to give him another opportunity to find out.”
The quiet promise in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. He wasn’t just saying it—he meant it. There was an unmistakable finality in his words, a lethal determination that made her stomach flip.
She cleared her throat. “Can we just drop it? I don’t want to waste any more energy thinking about Elliot.”
Dimitri studied her for a long moment, then exhaled and picked up the knife again. “Fine. For now.” He pointed the blade at her, smirking when her eyes widened slightly. “But if he so much as looks in your direction again, you tell me immediately. Understood?”
She huffed, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the warmth curling in her chest. “Yes, sir,” she muttered sarcastically.
His smirk widened as he returned to his cooking. “Much better.”
Giselle shook her head, inching closer to peek at the food. “Can I at least help with something? I feel useless watching you cook.”
Dimitri flicked a glance at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You can pour the wine.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Then pour mine.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head as she grabbed the bottle. Maybe, just maybe, being around him wasn’t such a bad thing.
Dimitri’s hands tightened around the whisk, his muscles flexing as he turned back to her. “Giselle, let’s get something straight right now. You have never been useless. But more importantly, you are not to go anywhere alone again.”
She blinked, startled by the sharp command in his voice. “I—what?”
He dropped the whisk onto the counter, bracing his hands on the surface as he leaned in. His dark eyes locked onto hers, unwavering. “Elliot grabbed you today, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning sooner?”
She hesitated, then lifted her chin slightly, trying to hold her ground. “I didn’t go anywhere with him. I told him no, and I walked away. End of story.”
“Not even close to the end,” Dimitri growled, his jaw flexing. “He grabbed you, tried to get you alone, and you don’t think that’s something I should be concerned about?”
Giselle turned away from the wine selection, her fingers twisting together in her lap, the weight of his anger pressing into her.
But beneath the fury, there was something else—an unwavering protectiveness that sent warmth curling through her chest. No one had ever gotten angry on her behalf before. No one had ever cared enough.
“I handled it,” she told him quietly, trying to ease the tension vibrating through him.
Dimitri scoffed. “Did you?” His voice was low, lethal. “Elliot is desperate, Giselle. And desperate men do stupid, dangerous things. He got away with using you for years. Now, he’s lost his job, and I have no doubt he’s looking for a way to pin it on you.”
She swallowed hard, some of her bravado slipping. She had thought Elliot’s behavior was odd, but she hadn’t let herself dwell on it. Now, seeing the way Dimitri’s expression hardened, the way his hands curled into fists, she realized she might have underestimated the situation.
“I refuse to let him come near you again,” Dimitri muttered, his voice filled with a quiet promise that sent shivers down her spine. “As for your family situation, we’ll deal with that too.”
Giselle frowned, shaking her head. “Dimitri, I’m not some charity case—”
His gaze sharpened, his expression turning to steel. “That’s not what I meant, and you damn well know it.”