6
Roxanne
My eyes shoot to the door when a tap sounds through it. Dimitri and I are in a tangled mess on our bed. Sweat is drenching my hair even more than the shower we shared, and I’m reasonably sure my outsides are wearing as much cum as my insides. We fucked for hours. It was glorious, but my god am I exhausted. Matteo’s sleeping pattern is as bad as his fathers, and Fien hasn’t had daytime naps in two years. I should be sleeping, but for the life of me, I can’t. It feels like a storm is brewing. I can smell the rain on the horizon. It just feels like more than a downpour is about to occur.
I think Dimitri is sensing the same thing. He isn’t usually a cuddler, but I’ve spent the last twenty minutes with my head on his chest, having my hair raked by his tattooed fingers. That’s as foreign as Matteo sleeping past six. Very unlikely. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relishing the rare snippet of peace, but it still feels odd.
When Dimitri hands me his shirt, I drag my teeth over my lower lip to hide my ill-timed smile. Every inch of our family home is wired to the hilt with surveillance—exceptour bedroom. Dimitri isn’t lying when he says he’d bury me beneath six foot of dirt before he’d ever let anyone see me naked. Although Smith would never snoop, Dimitri is untrusting of everyone’s motives. It’s a hard neurosis for him to give up since it was drummed into him since birth.
After ensuring my private parts are covered, Dimitri tugs on a pair of jeans before he heads for the door. Like a woman who wasn’t already pushed to the brink of ecstasy multiple times tonight, I stalk his walk. He has such an arrogant stride. It sets my pulse racing even more than when I discover who is on the other side of the door.
Rocco loves riling Dimitri, but not even he is so stupid to interrupt us during a marathon sex romp. We’ve been mauling each other for almost four hours but that doesn’t mean we’re close to being done. Dimitri has only expelled half the angst making him more reserved than he usually is, so my job is not yet done.
“What is it?” I ask Dimitri when Rocco’s departure is quickly followed by Dimitri moving to the walk-in closet to get me some clothes. “Dimitri—”
“I need you to get dressed and come with me.”
You have no clue how dry those words make my throat. I haven’t heard them for years, but they’re like a scar that refuses to heal. They’re burned into my heart, meaning I not only stumble while clambering out of bed, I almost cry as well.
My heart thuds against my chest while thrusting my arms into the jacket Dimitri is holding out for me. It’s July, in Florida. It’s way too hot for a jacket, not to mention one that’s lined with steel plates.
“It’s okay, baby,” I assure Fien when she’s walked into our room by a group of men with guns strapped to their chests. Even with her being the princess of the Italian Cartel, her eyes are wide and full of fear. “Come to Momma.”
After weaving my fingers through her dead straight locks to fix the kinks, I assist her into the coat Dimitri had specifically commissioned for his family. They’re bulletproof, bomb proof, but nothing close to panic proof. I’m scared out of my mind we’re being walked through the procedure Dimitri assured would only ever be a drill. He hasn’t handled a takeover bid in years, so why now is he suddenly being hit with one.
Nikolai.
“Is this about Nikolai? Is he coming for our family?” The shock in my tone can’t be helped. Dimitri said Justine was pregnant with Nikolai’s child, so why didn’t the knowledge he’s about to become a father soften Nikolai as it did Dimitri.
Furthermore, Dimitri isn’t his enemy. He wasn’t when he paid him fifteen million dollars for the raid he undertook in Czechia four years ago, and he wasn’t the past four days when he worked sun-up to sundown to put rumors to rest a Russian entity was attempting to place footholds in Hopeton.
“Dimitri!” I shout, frustrated he’s once again placing me on the sidelines right as the whistle blows. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Although he doesn’t appreciate my clipped tone, he finishes buttoning Matteo’s jacket as if my fear has no basis before he shifts on his feet to face me. “The Petrettis aren’t facing a takeover bid. Nikolai is.”
Relief is the first thing to engulf me. It’s quickly shadowed by confusion. “Then why are we being evacuated?”
He gathers Fien into his arms before hovering his spare hand above the curve in my lower back. He doesn’t need to guide Matteo out of our room. He takes control, determined to prove to his daddy he has what it takes to be the leader of the Italian Cartel. “We need to leave because the person hoping to topple Nikolai’s reign knows too much for me to ever believe you are safe here.” He drops his eyes to mine. His big, brooding frame leaves no doubt he will protect his family no matter what, but his eyes are on the opposing side of the field. Nikolai is his family. He just refuses to acknowledge it right now. “I promised to keep you safe, Roxanne. I won’t fuck it up a second time.”
“You promised to keep yourfamilysafe, Dimi. That includes Nikolai.”
While guiding me through the foyer of our home, he shakes his head. “He explicitly stated we would never be family.”
“Because he was raised by a man as unhinged as your father. Besides, if you truly believed what he said, you would have put steps in place long before now to remove him from the agenda. He is alive because you want him to be.” After removing Fien from his arms and placing her into the middle SUV in a line of six at the front of our home, I pivot back around to face Dimitri. “But he won’t be by the end of tonight if you don’t listen to your heart for once instead of your head.”
Some may say I’m mad coercing him to go into battle. It could get him hurt, or worse, killed, but knowing his brother was slayed on his turf without him interfering at all would hurt him more. He has a heart, a massive one. He’s just never had the chance to showcase it until now.
“Help your brother, then come back to us. We’re not going anywhere, Dimi. We will be at the safehouse, awaiting your return.”
My heart whacks out a funky melody when he shifts his eyes to Rocco. He only ever seeks his advice when he’s unsure which direction to take. That’s proof I’m getting through to him.
As always, Rocco has my back. “I agree with Roxie. He spurts out a heap of shit he doesn’t mean, and more times than not he’s racing ahead at a million miles an hour…just like you,but even snakes have hearts. They might be small, and under a whole heap of ugly fucking scales, but they’re still there, nonetheless.”
Dimitri doesn’t laugh along with Rocco. He doesn’t move, speak, or breathe. He just stares straight into my eyes long enough to see the pride in them before he shifts his focus to Matteo. “You’re the man of the house now, Matteo. Mama and Sissy are now your responsibility.”
As Matteo’s chest swells with smugness, Rocco slaps Dimitri’s with the back of his hand, eager for carnage. The shit-eating grin stretched across his face doesn’t linger for long. Dimitri barely shakes his head, but it is the equivalent of jabbing a knife into Rocco’s ballooned chest. It deflates as quickly as Matteo’s ego when it dawns on him who is actually in-charge while Dimitri is gone.
“Protect my castle, Rocco. If it falls, I fall. No fear.”
