“Why you ask?”
“Well, I’ve seen a bunch of portraits here and it’s kind of eerie to see so many people with your eyes.”
“You are in library, right? So you see image of blonde woman above the fireplace.”
She smiled. “Yep. She’s beautiful.”
“Is my great, great, great, great aunt Anastasia. She was the third daughter and ran off to join convent when she found out she was betrothed to a man much older than her. He went after her and they ended up falling in love, but not before he had to kidnap her from her convent.”
“Wow, your family history is amazing.” She sighed, imagining the smiling woman in the picture being taken from her safe, virginal bed at the convent. If Dimitri’s ancestors were anything like him, she never stood a chance.
The door across the room opened and Dimitri stormed in. She threw Peter his phone and ran across the room to Dimitri, jumping up into his arms as she began to cry. All the pent up fear and anger came pouring out as he held her tight and she tried to keep from sobbing while she clung to him. He was here and as long as he was holding her she was safe.
“Are you hurt? Why you cry?”
“No, no I’m okay.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re here, I’m okay. I was just scared.”
“Zaika moya, I am so sorry you were frightened. Is inexcusable.”
“I’m okay, really I am. Just…just hold me for a minute, okay. Give me a second to get my shit together.”
He cradled her to his chest and she sighed, snuggling close. “Thank you.”
“Your woman is very brave,” Peter said in a low voice from across the room. “I’m sorry it had to be like this Dimitri.”
“What are you doing here?” Dimitri snarled in English. “Does Alex know you are here?”
Peter replied in Russian and the more he spoke the tenser Dimitri got.
Her man said something Russian that sounded menacing. She reached up and cupped his cheek. “Hey, please don’t be mad at Peter. He kept me safe.”
Dimitri frowned and turned her head to the side, examining her temple before sucking in a harsh breath. When he spoke his voice vibrated with rage. “Who did that to you?”
Peter spoke up and Veldor’s name was said a few times. Instead of freaking out, Dimitri quieted and nodded a few times before looking back at her. “He will not bother you again.”
The final way he said that kind of scared her, but she had enough to deal with at the moment. “Can we leave, please?”
“Not yet. I must speak with my father or he will keep taking you until I do.” He cupped her chin and lifted her face to his. “Do you want to wait here while I talk to my father, or do you want to come with me?”
Though the idea of going anywhere near that crazy old bastard frightened her, she reached out and took his hand. “With you. Always with you.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Dimitri strode down the hallway of his father’s wing. Things hadn’t changed much in the four years since he’d been here last and he wondered if his blood still stained the floors in one of the basement holding rooms. A fine layer of dust seemed to have settled over everything and he wondered if his father even had the rooms freshened anymore, of if they were rotting away just like their current owner. Dimitri’s mother had taken pride in keeping the Novikov homes updated and cared for and it would have hurt her heart to see their current state of neglect.
The only solace he could offer himself was that these walls would be standing long after his father was in the ground.
Rya jerked to a halt behind him and he turned back, finding her staring out the window. “Holy shit.”
Wondering what had caught her attention, he saw that her gaze rested on the Summer Home sitting on the edge of the lake. It was a beautiful palace, constructed in the 1700s with fanciful towers and balconies designed to catch the cool breeze from the big lake. Great sweeping dual stair cases flanked the front entrance and an elaborate fountain, now dormant for the season, sat between the stairs. Only a few lights burned on the main floor, illuminating a few squares of glass in the slowly falling dusk.
“What is that?” Rya asked with wonder in her voice.
He ran his finger down her cheek, avoiding the bruise spreading over her temple and on the side of her face. “The Summer Home. When that bastard dies it will belong to us. I would like to live there for at least part of the year. It is a beautiful home with much history and where we lived when my mother was alive. I have many happy memories of my mother and sister there.”
She bit her lower lip and looked up at him. He could tell by her expression that this idea did not please her. “Dimitri…”