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“What’s your game, Dimitri? Spit it out,” I snap, irritation edging my voice.
“She was at your welcome home bash.”
“And?” I challenge, my patience wearing thin.
“And…she wasn’t called Sophia,” he drops the bombshell.
“The fuck?” I growl, an unexpected spark of anger igniting within me. “Christ, Dimitri!” I throw a look at him. His face is stone, the only movement a slight twitch of his lips. “The fuck are you saying?” I growl, the surprise quickly melting into anger. But before the heated words tumble out, I catch myself.
Dimitri’s got a mind like a goddamn steel trap; remembers names, faces, dates, every damn detail like it was engraved into his memory. It’s a fucking wonder, and at times, a downright curse.
And in that moment, I find myself grappling with a mindfuck of disbelief and irritation. I know better than to dismiss Dimitri’s words. It’s a maddening notion – Sophia not being who she says she is. Yet, I can’t ignore it, not when it’s Dimitri who brought it up.
I look at him sharply, a deep frown furrowing my forehead. He doesn’t meet my eye. He’s focused on the city lights streaking past.
“You better explain, Dimitri,” I warn, my tone dripping with the unspoken promise of consequences.
A wasted drunkard stumbles right into the goddamn path of my Jag. With a swift swerve, I narrowly avoid turning him into a crimson smear on the asphalt.
“Blyat!” I grit out, shooting the fool a glare that could melt steel. But Dimitri, cool as ever, barely even flinches. He’s still staring out at the city, unblinking, focusing on something I can’t see. The silence in the car grows thick, oppressive.
Feeling the tension, I slam my foot onto the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. The scenery starts to blur as we barrel down the road.
I shoot Dimitri another glare. He’s still looking straight ahead.
“Explain. Now.”
A sigh. Barely audible, but in the hush of the car, it’s thunderous.
“She worked your party,” he says. “Under a different name – Sonia Brown.”
Chapter 29
Sophia
“AND THEY lived happily ever after,” I sigh out the end of Beauty and the Beast for the second time tonight. My eyelids are drooping, and I’m relieved to see Yulia’s are finally fluttering closed. Max is already snoozing, a puddle of warmth against my thigh.
I reach out, tucking a stray curl behind Yulia’s ear. She looks so peaceful in sleep, a sharp contrast to the turmoil I know is stirring within her. The same turmoil I remember all too well from my own childhood after losing my parents.
Once I’m sure they’re both deep in dreamland, I rise, my gaze lingering on their innocent faces a moment longer before I silently tread my way out of her room, a wave of fatigue washing over me.
But as I pass by Luka’s door, my heart thumps wildly in my chest. The door is closed, and the room behind it is silent, but I can’t help the sudden flash of memories. His hot touch, his rough kisses, the way he took me in his bed… It’s imprinted in my memory. My cheeks flame at the thought, a heated reminder of the most intense night I’ve ever had.
I know he’s not there. I would’ve heard him if he was. I was practically holding my breath, listening for that slight creak of his door. Pathetic.
I hope he doesn’t die…
The thought rushes at me like a runaway train, filling me with a kind of terror I’ve never known. His life is a twisted game of Russian roulette, a step away from a bullet, a crash, a betrayal. Aleks—
No, don’t go there.
I heave in a deep, ragged breath, desperately pushing the horrific thoughts away. Stealing another glance at Luka’s door, I’m almost willing it to open.
Fucking hell, Sophia, get a grip.
Shaking off the ridiculous thought, I step into my room. It’s new, it’s unfamiliar, yet there’s something vaguely comforting about it. The scent of fresh linen and polished wood, the soft hum of the AC, the ambient lighting casting warm shadows across the room. It feels…safe.
