I stare at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. “You want to tell them Alexei is alive? That Konstantin orchestrated all of this?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“They won’t believe you.” I sit up too, ignoring my protesting muscles. “Konstantin is respected. Trusted. He’s been part of the Volkov family for decades. And Alexei is supposed to be dead.”
“Then we show them proof.” His voice is hard now, determined. “I’ve compiled everything, the financial records, phone logs, forensic evidence, security footage. We give them no choice but to see the truth.”
I think about my father, about how he barely looked at me during the wedding. The man negotiated me away like I was a bargaining chip to save the family from war.
“My family won’t side with us,” I say quietly, hating how pathetic it sounds. “My father thinks you’re?—”
“Your father was manipulated too,” Dimitri interrupts gently, giving Vincent Ashford more grace than is warranted. “Konstantin needed both families at war to make this work. Vincent believed he was sending you to a monster. He believed he was saving everyone.” His hand finds mine. “When he sees the truth... he might surprise you.”
I want to believe my father actually cares enough to be angry about the manipulation, but I’ve learned not to get my hopes up.
“Okay,” I say. “So we call a meeting and show them the evidence. Then what?”
“Then we unite against the real enemy.” Dimitri’s voice is cold with promise. “And we finally end this.”
The meeting is set for that afternoon at the luxury hotel in town. Surprisingly, it’s owned by neither family but respected by both so it made it a perfect location.
I spend the morning showering away the grime and blood from yesterday and changing into fresh clothes that don’t have gunpowder and blood on it. Dimitri moves carefully, his injured shoulder making him stiff, but he refuses pain medication.
“I need to be sharp,” he tells me when I argue and nearly shove the pain pills down his throat. “I need to be able to think clearly.”
“You’re going to pass out,” I tell him, annoyed at his stubbornness.
“I’ve functioned on worse.” He adjusts his tie in the mirror one-handed, which looks difficult but he manages. “Besides, if I pass out, you can catch me. You’re very strong as you held a gun and everything.”
I groan, chucking the vial of pills on the bed. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Never.” He turns to look at me, and his expression softens, his normally cold gray eyes growing warm. “You were incredible, by the way. In case I didn’t mention it clearly enough while we were actively being shot at.”
“You mentioned it.” I cross to him, straightening his collar and inhaling his cologne and the smell of his soap. God it makes my knees weak. “Between telling me my aim was terrible and that I was going to shoot you.”
He raises a dark brow. “Your aimwasterrible. Did you forget that you hit a light fixture?”
“I was under pressure!”
He catches my hand and brings it to his lips. “You were perfect,” he murmurs. “Terrible aim and all.”
And just like that, the banter fades into something heavier.
“We’re really doing this,” I say softly, relishing the feel of his lips on my skin.
He nods. “We are.” He lets go of my hand but laces our fingers together and gently squeezes.
“What if it goes wrong?” I fret, trying to ground myself with his touch. “What if they don’t believe us?”
“Then we deal with it.” His gray eyes are steady.
“Okay,” I say, not entirely convinced.
Dimitri removes his hand from mine and tips my face up before he kisses me. It’s a slow and deep kiss and for a moment I let myself believe everything will be okay.
Then we go to war.
The hotel’s top-floor conference room is elegant in that old-money way with dark wood paneling, a massive table that could seat twenty, and crystal chandeliers casting warm light over what’s about to become averyugly conversation.
