Dimitri's Forbidden Submissive (Submissive's Wish) (44 page)

“I happen to agree with you. It is refreshing not to deal with hysterics. You’re here because Dimitri’s father wishes to meet you. He’s been trying to see you since you arrived in Russia, but Dimitri has forbidden it.”

“And this surprises you how?”

“His father is dying.”

“And?”

He grinned at her. “You are a ruthless little thing aren’t you? No wonder Dimitri loves you so much.”

“Um…thanks?”

“Please, come meet Jorg, Dimitri’s father. It is his most desperate wish that his sons find happiness before he dies. Dimitri has been quite…adamant about not seeing his father, but it is vital that he comes here. I’m afraid that we have to use you as bait in order to make that happen.”

“Awesome.” She carefully slid off the other side of the bed and groaned as her head ached. “Can I get some Tylenol or something for my head? He really clocked me good.”

Peter stood and came quickly to her side. She flinched when he reached for her, but he made a soothing, almost humming noise. “Easy now. I just want to make sure you don’t need a doctor.”

“And if I did, you’d take me to one?”

Peter grinned. “I might at that. Look, the sooner you talk to the old man the sooner you’ll be returned to Dimitri, unharmed. Trust me when I say I’m not among Jorg’s greatest fans, but you don’t want him for an enemy. Keep that in mind.”

After being led to an old fashioned kitchen that was well cared for, she sipped at her cup of tea as she took what she hoped was aspirin. While she had no idea what kind of building she was in, it felt like a castle. Everything was lush, opulent, and over-the-top expensive, yet tasteful with a sense of great age. She certainly felt out of place in her modest navy suede skirt and matching jacket with a turquoise blue silk blouse beneath. At least she wore comfortable black leather boots. This morning she’d thought she looked put together in this outfit, now she wished she’d worn a pair of jeans or maybe a suit of armor.

She set her tea cup aside and followed Peter when he led her past a group of maids who looked to be in their late fifties and sixties. The women spoke in excited whispers as they passed. Rya kept her eyes forward and tried to pretend that this was all normal, that she was used to being abducted by her boyfriend’s dad.

No biggie.

Even before she reached the rooms where Dimitri’s father was staying she knew she was approaching a sickroom. The familiar smells that she associated with her hospice tinged the air and she took a deep breath then let it out slowly, chagrined that the hospital odors relaxed her. She didn’t associate hospitals with bad things and she spent so much time there that this almost smelled like home to her.

Before Peter opened the door to room, he looked over at her and all humor was gone from his face. He held her gaze and said in a low voice, “You will be respectful to Mr. Novikov. Do you understand me? If you love Dimitri you will do nothing to upset his father. He is lucid most of the time, but every once in a while he slips and when he does his temper flares. You will not fight with him. It would be a big mistake and complicate matters.”

“I understand. Go in, make nice, get the fuck out of here. Got it.”

He made a frustrated noise and opened the door. “Lucky for you Mr. Novikov has a similar taste in spirited women as his sons. He may enjoy your candor. Just don’t be stupid.”

Rya lifted her chin and strolled into the room, stunned by what lay on the other side of the door. The room itself was massive, with at least thirteen-foot ceilings and art covering every inch of wall space. And not just any art, wonderful paintings done in a variety of styles. She gazed around the room in awe, her eyes unable to focus on one object, overwhelmed by the splendor. After a long moment her gaze trailed over to the massive cream marble fireplace against the far wall and the very utilitarian hospital bed near it. A withered man watched her from the bed and as she stared into his sunken eyes he smiled at her. He was completely bald, even his eyebrows and eyelashes were gone, and she sucked in a soft breath at the obvious signs of the cancer ravaging his body.

He said in surprisingly good English, “You look like my first wife.”

She looked over to Peter for guidance but he seemed as baffled as she was. “Thank you. Was she Alex’s mother?”

“Come closer, little rabbit. That is what my son calls you, yes?”

She flushed and nodded, trying to keep in mind that this was a terrible man who had done dreadful things despite the fact that he was obviously on death’s door. “It is.”

“And what do you call him?”

“My wolf.”

He cackled with delight, then coughed heavily and brought his oxygen mask to his face. In reaching for it he almost knocked over the picture of a beautiful toddler dressed in a bright jumper with red gold curls and the Novikov gunmetal grey eyes. With a trembling hand he straightened the picture before turning to look at her again. “Yes, I have heard that you have brought out the predator in my Dimitri. He has become most savage in his defense of you.”

Unsure what to say, she kept her silence. There was a gleam in Mr. Novikov’s eyes she didn’t like, that small hint of insanity she was used to seeing in her older patients as dementia set in. Things had the potential to go really, really bad; she had to be smart and keep her temper. “Why am I here, Mr. Novikov? What do you want from me?”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly super polite, but she hadn’t told him to fuck off.

Mr. Novikov smiled at her, his gums had receded in an alarming manner. “You are here because I need some answers from you.”

Her heart raced and she pressed her hands to her skirt to try and hide their shaking. “What are they?”

“Did you really kill the man who tried to kidnap you?”

“I did.”

He lowered the oxygen mask and slowly nodded. “How did it feel?”

“What?”

“When you killed him, how did it feel?”

“I’m not talking about this.”

He cackled. “Yes, you are. You will answer my questions, little rabbit, or I will not let you go. I won’t hurt you, but I will keep you in a cage until your wolf comes to rescue you.”

She gingerly rubbed the tender bump on the side of her head. “Yeah, sorry if I don’t believe you thanks to this nice goose egg on my skull. Since I’ve already been hurt, forgive me if I doubt that you care about what happens to me as long as you get your way.”

Anger suffused his face, turning his skeletal features into something horrifying. “You have been harmed?”

Peter stepped up behind her. “Looks like Veldor hit her on the temple to knock her out.”

“What?”

Mr. Novikov began to scream in Russian and she stared in shock as he seemed to fill with energy, a brief hint of the man he’d once been shining through the shell of his fading body. Peter began to rush her out of the room but Mr. Novikov roared, “Stop!”

They both froze and exchanged a fearful expression before turning back to the madman on his death bed. His chest heaved and sweat made his sallow skin shine. He pointed at her with one trembling finger. “You have my protection, Rya. The Novikov Bratva will protect you, all of us and those loyal to us. You have my word.”

With that, he slumped back into the bed and grabbed his oxygen mask. A couple of older women in medical garb came in and Rya watched them tend to their patient for a moment before Peter hauled her out of the room. His phone rang and he answered it in Russian. After a minute of conversation, he was pale as snow and by the time they reached the hallway they were practically running. She was able to keep up in her boots but by the time Peter slowed down she was out of breath as he ended his call.

“What the hell is going on?”

Peter looked at her, really looked at her, then slowly smiled. “Mr. Novikov likes you.”

“That’s a good thing? He seemed pretty pissed when we left.”

“He was angry that Veldor harmed you. Mr. Novikov knows this will enrage Dimitri and he may never give Mr. Novikov a chance to make amends.”

“All of this was because Dimitri’s dad wants to apologize to him?” She shook her head and followed Peter through the mansion, taking in rooms where the furniture was covered with drop cloths. “Where are we?”

“The Novikov family estate.” Peter glanced over at her. “Once Mr. Novikov dies, this estate goes to Dimitri and Alex. If I was a betting man, I believe Dimitri will want to live at the summer home on the estate.”

“What?” She glanced around and took in the massive space. “Is this the summer home?”

“No, this is the winter home.” He stopped and pulled his phone out. “One moment.”

While he spoke in Russian she wandered down the hallway, looking at the different portraits on the walls. They seemed to be of the same man as he aged, starting out with a portrait where he was an infant in a bassinet fit for a king, all the way there where he stared out of the painting in full armor, the lines around his face deep, but his gaze was still fierce. She lingered there, seeing hints of Dimitri in the man’s features.

She was jerked from her examination of the portrait when Peter grabbed her arm. “Can you run?”

“Why?”

“Because Dimitri is about to shoot his way onto the compound and I need you to stop the bloodshed.”

“Fuck, give me your phone and call Dimitri.”

He handed it to her as they walked swiftly through the home and it went to voicemail. Pissed, she called it again, and again. By the time she called him for the fourth time Dimitri picked up and shouted something in Russian.

“Ouch, that was my fucking ear you just blasted,” she yelled into the phone. “Damn.”

“Rya?”

“Yes, it’s me, I’m fine. Stop whatever crazy Rambo bullshit you’re about to do.”

He sounded frantic in a way she’d never heard before as he said, “Why do you sound out of breath? Have you been harmed?”

“I’m out of breath because I’m running through your ungodly huge family mansion trying to get outside before you start shooting. And I’m in boots that were not made for running, so if you could just not kill anyone until I get there, that would be sweet.”

“You are okay,” he said with an audible sigh of relief. “Give phone to Peter.”

She did and Peter slowed down to a walk, nodding and speaking rapidly in Russian before handing the phone back to Rya. “Hello?”

“Stay with me, talk to me. I need to hear your voice as I come into this place that I swore I would never return to.”

“Okay, well, um I bought a desk today. Or maybe you bought it. Either way, I got you a new desk.”

“Tell me about it.”

She rattled through the details of the desk trying to remember what the sales lady had said about it while Peter led her to a gracious library with beautiful green and burgundy carpets and cream walls accented in gold. A fire burned in the fireplace and the whole room had a wonderful feel to it. Above the fireplace hung a picture of a woman with her hair piled atop her head wearing a sumptuous old fashioned gold dress. She had pale blonde hair and what must be the signature Novikov eyes, silver rimmed in black, captured by an artist hundreds of years ago.

Turning look at the picture, Rya said, “Dimitri, does everyone in your family have your grey eyes?”

“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.”

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.