“You’re up early,” he says.
“So are you.”
He studies me for a moment longer than necessary, assessing rather than admiring.
“How did it go with Konstantin last night?”
I cross the room, pour myself coffee, and take a sip before answering. “It went exactly how you would expect,” I say calmly. “He issued instructions.”
Dmitri’s mouth twitches faintly. “I imagine that did not sit well.”
“It did not.”
He turns fully now, leaning one shoulder against the wall. “And?”
“And I think he had something to do with it.”
“With what?” he asks, though his eyes sharpen.
“My abduction.”
He does not look shocked. He looks thoughtful.
I hold his gaze. “Did you think it was him?”
Dmitri exhales slowly, a heavy breath that carries years of history with it. “I’m not sure.”
“That is not reassuring, Dima.”
“We’ve known him since we were children,” he says. “Our fathers built this alliance before you understood what it meant.”
“That does not answer my question.”
He drags a hand through his hair and looks back out the window briefly before meeting my eyes again. “He has always been a little off.”
I lift a brow, and Dmitri raises both hands in mock surrender.
“I have never claimed to be anything other than the crazy fucker I am.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth almost lifts. “At least you are honest about it,” I say.
He shrugs. “Konstantin hides it better.”
“In what way?”
“He acts like a prince,” Dmitri replies, voice cooling. “Polished. Controlled. Diplomatic.”
“And?”
“And he behaves like a demon when he thinks no one is watching.”
The words settle heavily in my chest. “You’ve seen it?” I ask.
“I’ve seen glimpses,” he says carefully. “Small things. The way he handles disrespect. The way he responds when someone challenges him. It is never loud. Never reckless. It is… methodical.”
“That does not prove he sanctioned what happened to me.”
“No,” Dmitri agrees. “It doesn’t.”
