Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Maybe I don’t know much about love, but I know it’s not that.
CHAPTER 24
DAHLIA
My heart flutters as the limo carries us down the Strip, the lights blinking and glittering against the window in a fascinating, gorgeous interplay. Dimitri smirks and takes my hand, squeezing it warmly. Nerves stir in my belly as I think about the plan and my part in it. He said he had to wait until just before the party to tell me. Otherwise, there was a chance I would tell Mila and a chance Mila would tell her dad.
“I trust you, Lia, but in this life…”
I could tell he felt torn, but I understood. “This life takes no prisoners. Even if the chance was one percent, you couldn’t risk it.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No,” I say, “but for the record, I wouldn’t have said a word.”
Before I could turn away, he grabbed me and pulled me close. “It was wrong. It was paranoid. From now on, no more secrets about anything.”
Now, I try not to crush Dimitri’s hand in mine. I want to appear confident when I make my entrance on his arm. He said the time for hiding is over. We don’t have to pretend anymore. Ania sits next to Mila, gripping her hand tightly. Both of them seem intensely nervous.
“Are you ready?” Dimitri asks me softly.
“Are you sure about this?” I reply.
“Yes.” His voice is stern, the tone of the Bratva king. “No more hiding. No more game playing.”
Mikhail scoffs, “Well, brother, this whole thing is a game.”
“Hmm,” Dimitri grunts.
Mila glances up sharply, staring at me, and I wonder if Dimitri is right. If he told me, and I, for whatever reason, let it slip to Mila, would she go running to her dad? Is his hold on her that bad? I guess this is a sick, twisted upside to being an orphan.
Soon, the limo comes to a stop. We’re at the rear of what appears to be some factory, the basement doors thrown open and a pocket of yellow light shining into the street. A doorman approaches, opening the door. Dimitri climbs out first and offers me his hand.
Nerves try to throttle me as I take it, then step onto the street. I’m unsure what I imagined, but this is pretty low-key—just two doormen and a large basement entrance.
“Don’t worry,” Dimitri whispers, his hand tightening around mine. “It’ll be nicer inside.”
“Who said I was worried?” I shoot back.
We walk down the basement stairs, down a narrow corridor, and everything completely changes. It’s like we’re suddenly transported into the corridor of a five-star hotel. Luxurious rugs lay over the floor, with flickering actual fires in sconces on the walls. A host approaches us, wearing a sleek suit.
“Mr. Sokolov, sir, I’m so sorry for the delay. Your team has informed you that everything is safe, I trust? Of course, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here!” The man seems flustered and borderline frightened.
Dimitri smiles easily. “It’s fine. I knew it would be safe. I wouldn’t bring…” His hand tightens on mine. “… my people here if I didn’t think so.”
“Some prankster, no doubt.”
“Yes,” Dimitri says. “Or somebody who wanted the party delayed or called off for another reason.”
I wonder if Mila and Ania are fidgeting behind me. The host waves us into a large chamber-like room. Half of the room is underground. The rest is above ground, with tall windows letting in swaths of light through distorted glass, almost like a church. A jazz band plays softly, and the room is milling with people, men, and their wives, but no children.
As we walk across the room, the activity slowly stops. My cheeks burn. My feet feel like they’re trying to trip me up. The heels make me feel like I’m floating from footstep to footstep. Many people look outright angry, especially the men sitting at the table at the front—the table we’re walking right toward.
Mila makes a slight moaning noise, and I can tell it is terror at seeing her father. Nikolai is a sweaty man with a look of pure fury on his face—the man who tried to kidnap me. He glares like he’d happily leap from the chair and tear my face off.
“Dimitri,” he says, standing, causing everyone at the table to stand, four men and four women. The table is enormous, like some medieval round table, easily the biggest in the room. “This is… unusual,” he goes on. “You’re going to marry my daughter in a couple of weeks, and here you are, with this, this… this lady.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he wanted to say much more than “lady.”
This is the part that’s going to sting, but I tell myself I’m mentally prepared. When Dimitri gruffly laughs, I take a breath, getting myself ready. “Just because a man’s getting a wife doesn’t mean he can’t have some fun, does it? Relax.”