I’m not the only one moving fast. Max is on his feet in an instant, growling and barking at the procession of cars as if they’re the enemy. It’s weird to see him acting so violent. He’s been fine with Dimitri and over a dozen of his armored goons the past three hours, so why is he acting so irritated by men sworn to protect?
“It’s okay,” Dimitri assures me before he quiets Max’s ruckus with the swiftest lift of his hand.
Although his vicious gaze remains locked on the fleet of vehicles coming to a stop at the front of the ranch, Max licks the dribble his vicious growl instigated before he returns to his protective post by Demi’s feet.
Confident he has one disaster diverted, Dimitri shifts his focus back to me. “They’re not here for me.” I choke on my spit when he nudges his head to Demi and says, “They are here for her.”
From the corner of the room, I watch the scene unfold. The dozen or more police officers don’t approach my home. They maintain their stalk from outside when a man with blondish brown hair exits the convoy from the final vehicle. Although the stranger is dressed differently than the prisoner I saw in the wee hours of this morning, I’m confident he’s one and the same. Not only does he have a distinct set of tattoos, when I was ushered past the Warden’s office, I watched him like a hawk when he went toe to toe with Dimitri. Excluding Rocco, I had never seen a man stupid enough to go against Dimitri.
I was fascinated by their exchange and somewhat worried. Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t worried Maddox would hurt Dimitri. I was panicked how turned on I was watching Dimitri in his element. He was as bossy and domineering as he was in the parking lot, but for once, his annoyance wasn’t focused on me.
“Who’s Maddox to Demi?”
Dimitri doesn’t need to answer my question. Maddox’s dart across the room tells me everything I need to know, much less Max’s blasé response to his quick approach. Furthermore, Demi responds to Maddox as if he’s the only man in the room, so I won’t mention the loving way Maddox cups her bruised cheeks, or you’ll think I’m a creeper.
I can’t help but watch. The fireworks sparking between them is out of this world. It’s almost as explosive as the ones that forever bristle between Dimitri and me.
“Is there somewhere they can go… for privacy?”
I glance up at Dimitri with playful mocking beaming from my eyes, adoring the unease of his question. I didn’t think he knew what awkwardness was, let alone have the ability to display it. “We don’t have any sex pods here. My nanna was miles ahead of her time, but she wasn’tthatadvanced.”
When his lips furl at the ends, I suck in a relieved breath. Even with his smile being as ghost-like as Demi’s, it’s better than the downward trend his lips have been wearing the past three hours. I still have a lot of anger to work through for how we departed, and why, but seeing how he coerced Demi from her hiding spot has me seeing him in an entirely different light. His naturally engrained protectiveness already makes him a great father, not to mention his ability to nurture when required.
“Perhaps my grandparents’ room would work?”
After jerking up his chin, Dimitri runs his hand down my arm in thanks, then makes his way to Demi and Maddox’s side of the room. I want to continue soaking up their tear-producing display of affection but lose the chance when the heat of a gaze captures my attention.
I’m assuming Estelle has noticed my body’s response to Dimitri’s briefest touch, so you can picture my shock when I realize her stare isn’t directed at me. She’s peering past me, eyeballing the last person I ever anticipated for her to watch. She’s gawking at Clover, and if the fizzle of their stares going to war is anything to go by, he’s watching her just as closely.
“That’s not a good idea,” I warn after joining her on the couch.
The hiss zapping in the air weakens when Estelle drags her eyes to me. “What isn’t a good idea?” She’s been super quiet this afternoon like visiting prisoners and being surrounded by gangsters isn’t an everyday occurrence for her. She works at an establishment owned by no other than Mr. Monroe. He’s as well-known amongst the locals of Erkinsvale as the Petrettis are to Hopeton inhabitants, so she can’t play the innocent card.
“Giving gaga eyes to a paid hitman.”
Estelle rolls her eyes like I didn’t hit the bullseye. “Puh-leaze. I was warning him to stay away.”
I wiggle my finger around her flushed cheeks. “If this is your threatening face, what was the one I saw when you and Brayden went to town Thanksgiving weekend?”
“Don’t you dare judge me.” The humor on her face weakens the intensity of her snapped tone. “You were all, ‘good riddance, I can’t stand him, how dare he treat me the way he did’to, ‘hey there, good-looking, can I get you a cup of coffee? One clump or two?’”
I sock her in the arm, doubling her smile. “I was trying to be helpful.”
“You were trying to take the focus off your pressing thighs.” When the truth of her statement lowers my shoulders, she jabs her elbow into my ribs. “I can’t blame you. He’s fucking hot, they all are, but…”
When she fails to find a reason for my insanity, I help a girl out. “It’s crazy to thinkthisis any type of normal?”
After breathing out of her nose, she nods.
“Would it make you feel any better if I said it’s not close to being normal because it’s not meant to be? There’s bad and good in every person. You’ve just got to find the one who makes your flaws less obvious.”
“What are you saying, Roxie? You’re the concealer for Dimitri’s blemishes?”
I shake my head before I can stop myself. “He’s not the one with the marks, Estelle. I am.”
Before the shock of my confession can register, the man we’re talking about steals my focus from across the room. The briefest glance Dimitri awards me under hooded lashes isn’t responsible for my utmost devotion. It’s the tick of his jaw when he stares down at a tablet Smith shoves under his nose.
My brows spike as quickly as my heart rate when Dimitri instructs Rocco to take me to my room. He only ever does that when he’s going to hurt someone I love or punish me. With his narrowed eyes locked on a group of officers mingling on the front porch, I doubt the latter is a contender. He’s so worked up, Smith’s tablet barely dings before he races across the room like a bullet being fired from a gun.
