Dimitri's Forbidden Submissive(132)

“No, we will talk about this later. Come.”

He held her hand again and led her back to his father’s room, his nose scrunching as the stink of death reached him. For a moment he stood before the closed doors, his heart racing as he tried to get his mind into the right place for dealing with his father. At one time Dimitri had worshiped his father, had thought he was a great man, but now his gut churned at the thought of seeing the monster who had so casually ordered his torture in the very home he’d grown up in all because he tried to keep two innocent young girls from dying.

Rya squeezed his hand, hard. “You don’t need to do this.”

He looked over at her, studying her face, her beautiful golden eyes and let out a pent up breath. “Yes I do. I do this for us.”

She tried to protest, but he’d already opened the door. Normally, they would have been locked, but without a doubt his father knew he was coming. Not only because Peter would have called ahead, but because he would have been seen on the surveillance system set up throughout the home. As Dimitri stepped into what had once been his step-mother’s suite a pang of sorrow hit him. Though he’d never met Alex’s mother, both he and his brother had spent a lot of time in this room, reading her books, looking at the pictures of her family, and basically helping Alex feel some connection to his mother.

The heavy indigo blue brocade curtains had been drawn over the windows and a fire blazed in the hearth, but the rest of the room was dimly lit. He looked all around the open space, noting how many of his father’s favorite pieces of art had been crammed into the room, but he didn’t see Olga, Alex’s mother’s picture hanging over the mantle and briefly wondered if his father loved the Monet that currently hung there more than he loved his first wife.

People milled around, nurses, bodyguards, and a group of his father’s advisors. He looked at them first, silently letting them know that they would pay for their part in taking his woman. While he wasn’t foolish enough to wage war on his father, the men standing at his side and looming over his sickbed like vultures waiting to swoop in for the kill would know his wrath. One of the vultures in particular, Gravel, made him want to stride across the room and snap the old man’s neck. Gravel was one of his father’s most trusted enforcers, a cruel man who only respected those with a greater propensity for violence than even Jorg possessed. Four years ago, Gravel was the one who’d been in charge of torturing Dimitri for information on the Boldin twins and Dimitri owed him much suffering.

Gravel looked away and nervously licked his thick lips.

When Dimitri finally looked into his father’s eyes he was surprised at the open joy he saw there and shocked at how bad Jorg looked. The last time Dimitri had seen his father two years ago he was ill, but still robust. Now the cancer that was slowly killing Jorg had almost won and Dimitri could see death hovering around the wizened old man. It took him a moment to process the changes, but once he was in control of himself and had pushed away the annoying pity that tried to take residence in his heart, he stared directly into his father’s eyes.

“If you ever touch Rya again I will end you.”

Everyone gasped, but Jorg gave that horrible, cackling laugh that Dimitri hated so much. In Russian Jorg said, “Good. I love that bloodthirsty streak you’ve developed. But do not worry, she is under my protection.”

Baffled, Dimitri stared at his father and drew Rya closer to him, aware of her confused look but too focused on what was being said to reassure her. “Your protection? Why would you do that?”

“You mean why would I give Rya my protection, and not Jessica?” He sneered at Dimitri.

“Yes.”

“Because Jessica was too weak, too gentle for the life of a Bratva leader’s wife. She would have been quickly killed. I was saving her.”

Striving to control his anger, Dimitri said in a low voice, “Saving her? She was killed anyway. Maybe if she had your protection she would still live and you would be able to love your granddaughter instead of visiting their empty grave.”

Jorg laughed and Dimitri had to grip his hands into fists to keep from launching himself at his father. How dare he mock Alex’s pain at the loss of Jessica. “You are so arrogant, so sure of yourself. How I wish I could see your face when you learn the truth.”

Confused by his father’s rambling, and concerned by his father’s increasing struggles to draw a breath, he shook his head. “You aren’t making any sense.”

Smiling at him, Jorg put his oxygen mask over his face and his voice came out distorted as he said, “I know you, Dimitri. I know how you think, how you will react. I know your heart.”