My jaw hangs open in shock. “You’ve been in my closet? Are you stalking me?”
“Yes, and yes.” He doesn’t even flinch at my question. His response is flippant. Nonchalant. Like stalking and going through a girl’s closet are regular hobbies college-aged guys have. “I didn’t come here on a whim. I have been collecting information on you for a long time, Callista. I know a lot about you. Your secrets, your shame, your pain, the things about your family you never tell anyone.”
Every word sends a new spiral of fear into my bloodstream. I take back every good word I said about Dmitry Antonov. He’s not a good guy. He’s not my knight in a shining armor.
He’s a bully. He’s a villain. He’s a fucking stalker. But none of that stops my pussy from gushing for him.
Dmitry steps aside, granting me space like a benevolent tyrant. “Five minutes,” he reminds me, opening the door a crack, listening. The hallway is a hive again. He glances back at me, eyes dark and bright at once. “Smile, princess.”
“I am not your princess.”
His mouth curves. “Not yet.”
He slips out, the lock catching softly after him. The room expands around me like it was waiting to exhale.
I stare at the girl in the mirror. The kiss is still on my mouth, a flush I can’t powder away. I fix my mascara, press cold water to my wrists, reapply lipstick, twist one stray hair back into its place. The face I make is flawless. The girl behind it is in trouble. First, my dad cut me off. Now I am being bullied by a guy with connections to organized crime. Still, I tell myself I can use this to my advantage. I can make Dmitry fund me, buy me the thingsI used to buy with my Dad’s money. If he’s a bully, I can be a gold digger, too.
Five minutes later, I descend the stairs into a house that loves me because I never fail. Lila swoops in, eyes bright and nosy. “Where did you disappear to?”
I give her what she wants. “Kissing my boyfriend in the bathroom. I guess the rumors haven’t spread yet.”
“Oh my god, are you really dating Dmitry Antonov?” They giggle like they’d been waiting for that word. I decide I could use this fake dating scheme to my advantage. I always get hit on by guys. Having a boyfriend who comes from an actually rich family could give me advantages. I’ll feel like less of an imposter with him backing me. I’m going to use him, too. He’s not the only one who’ll benefit from our arrangement.
In the far corner, Dmitry watches the room like a man who already owns the deed. Our eyes meet for a brief second. He touches two fingers to his mouth and then to his phone.
Promise. Threat. Contract.
I glide into the center of my party and make it a stage again. I am the perfect hostess. I am the perfect lie. And in forty-eight hours, I am going to be Dmitry Antonov’s perfect girlfriend.
On paper. In public.
Everywhere he decides.
TWO
Dmitry
The house glowslike a cruise ship when I pull in. Light spills from the colonnade, soft and expensive. Aleksei picked this place for privacy and for the long view from the terrace. Marble floors, tall windows, a grand staircase that looks like it should lead to a ballroom. The furniture is dark wood and leather, heavy enough to survive a war. It smells like pine cleaner and something sweet from the kitchen, vanilla and warm sugar, probably the cookies Lena bakes when she cannot sleep.
I let myself in and drop my keys in the shallow brass bowl by the door. The foyer is quiet, then I hear it, the soft static of a baby monitor left on the console table. A tiny sigh comes through the speaker, a little rustle, then silence. The family wing is dark, a nightlight glowing somewhere down the hall. Aleksei keeps the nursery at the far end so that no one can reach it without crossing three cameras and two motion sensors. The security system hums in the walls like a heartbeat.
The living room is chaotic as usual. A single lamp throws a halo over the low table. There is a plate of food on it, meat piesfrom the bakery near the Russian market, still warm. Aleksei always pretends he is cutting back at night, then he heats these up after everyone is in bed. He is not here. The refrigerator door thumps somewhere in the kitchen.
I stop when I notice someone sitting at the table. The shape of his nose gives him away.
Leo.
Leo Antonov, the pakhan of the Antonov bratva. My oldest brother. My boss, if we’re being technical. Leo sits in the corner chair, jacket off, sleeves rolled, a crystal glass resting in his hand. He looks mellow, not soft, never soft. He sits straight even though he’s alone, unable to let his guard down even in solitude.
I feel sorry for him sometimes. The responsibilities he shoulders, the way he always maintains a façade…it reminds me of Callista.
They both wear masks, but Leo’s never cracks. He has become the mask. I bet he doesn’t remember how to cry. Maybe that’s why I felt so protective of Callista. I shouldn’t have wiped away her tears, or kissed her, but I wanted to give her the space to cry, to be herself, before her true self disappears. I couldn’t help it.
Leo notices me instantly. “Dmitry. You’re home.”
“Forget about me.You’rehome. It has been a while.”
“Thought I’d pay you a visit.” The lines on Leo’s forehead deepen. He must have some work for me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t bother coming. “Aleksei has been begging me to come and see his son. The boy might take my place in the future, so I had to oblige.”
