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DIMITRI
As I drive to the compound, I try not to think about Mila waiting for me—Milawith anM, not Lia, who I can still taste on my lips. I wasn’t planning on kissing her. After visiting her neighbor last night and clarifying what would happen to him if he didn’t leave, I told myself that was it. I’d give her the painting supplies, then forget she existed.
But the kiss still lingers on my lips. How am I supposed to do my duty, save the city, and marry Mila when Dahlia is the only woman I can think about?
I feel like a different man. It’s as if the kiss somehow changed me, but I meant what I said to her. She’s too good for me. Too pure. After the kiss, her face flushed and wide-eyed, she looked even younger. She looked even more innocent.
She doesn’t even know who I am. It’s not exactly common knowledge, and we do our best to keep it out of the press. Everybody has heard the whispers about the Sokolovs, but she thinks I’m just a CEO. Would she hate me if she knew the truth?
Far too soon, I arrive at the compound. After scanning in, I make small talk with the guards for a few minutes. They’re respectful but a little distant. I’ve known these men for years, so maybe it’s the change in my position making them cautious, or perhaps it’s the fact my father told them to give the city over to Nikolai if I don’t follow his orders.
Finally, I can’t put it off any longer.
It’s not like I can stay out here all night. I make my way to the house. This time, Yuri opens the door with a short bow. I’ve tried telling him many times that he doesn’t have to treat me like this, but I think he prefers the clear line between butler and employer.
“Your brother and friend are waiting for you on the rear deck, sir.”
“Thank you, Yuri,” I say.
Mikhail’s probably pissed at having to keep Mila entertained, but it’s better than her waiting here alone. I thought Ania might spend some time with her at first, but Ania has had anxiety on and off her entire life. She finds it difficult to meet new people.
Before going to the rear deck, I head to the basement. Deep down, I know this is just a way for me to put off meeting Mila for a little longer. I don’t know what she looks like or anything about her, but I know she’s nothing compared to Lia.
In the large basement dance studio, I hear the shoes squeak against the floor. I peek through the small window in the door to see Ania spinning and leaping around the studio. She wears her AirPods and faces away, but I see her smiling in the long mirror on the wall. That’s something, at least.
Since she’s clearly in the flow, I leave without disturbing her. Mikhail meets me in the back deck kitchen. Beyond him, through the open door, I can see the back of a woman’s head as she sits poolside. Mikhail frowns at me.
“What?” I say.
He moves closer, lowering his voice. “I don’t think she wants to do this.”
“And I do?” I growl. “Any progress?”
Mikhail gives me that searching look again. My hunger for Lia is making it difficult even to be surface-level civilized with my brother the day after my father’s death.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I grunt, reminding me of Lia again. That’s exactly what she said to me.
“It’s been a day,” Mikhail says. “I’ve started work, brother, but it might take a week. Maybe two. This is some serious digging.”
“Hmm,” I say, nodding. “I better go say hello.”
I walk onto the deck, over to the pool and the chairs. Mila looks over her shoulder when she sees me coming. She’s a nice enough-looking girl, I guess. Her hair is curlier than Lia’s, longer, and lighter. She has a similar build, but when Mila stands, I see she’s slightly taller. Freckles are scattered across her cheeks. She looks withdrawn and almost scared, but not Lia-scared, not how my firecracker gets with that determined twist to her lips despite the fear.
When she grips the corners of her skirt and does a little bow, I can tell her father told her to do it. It seems rehearsed. “Hello, Dimitri,” she says. “It’s so good to meet you finally.”
I want to leave, but Mikhail is watching us from the house, staring from the kitchen window. It’s like he wants me to make her mine so he can return to his own work.
“And you,” I force myself to say, almost offering my hand, but I decide against it. I have to marry her, kiss her, make babies with her, but I can’t shake her hand. I feel sick just thinking about it. “I hope the journey was okay.”
She nods shortly. “It was good. I had a nap.”
“Okay.”
A silence stretches out between us. If I really wanted to make this work, I’d do my best to fill the silence and eliminate the awkwardness. I find myself just standing there, wishing she was Lia instead, thinking about what it would be like to jump into the pool with my innocent, perfect artist.
I need to stop this shit.
“Have you eaten yet?” I ask.
