Page 120 of No Longer Mine
His breath came out slow and measured as he leaned forward. “I’m keeping you alive, Scarlett. I’m making sure you don’t end up on my father’s radar more than you already are.”
I swallowed, heat curling low in my belly at the way he said my name. At the way he looked at me—like I was already his, like I was something worth protecting, worth fighting for.
But still.
“Being alive and being hidden aren’t the same thing,” I said softly.
His gaze flickered, his lips parting just slightly before he snapped his mouth shut again. He was listening, really listening.
I reached across the table, my fingers brushing against the back of his hand. “I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need you to scream my name in the middle of the city.” A small smirk played on my lips. “Though, I wouldn’t mind hearing it in other settings.”
His nostrils flared slightly, and I could feel the restraint in his body.
“But I do need to know this isn’t something you’re going to be ashamed of.” I squeezed his fingers, my voice softer now. “Because I’m not.”
He exhaled slowly, flipping his hand so his palm pressed against mine, his fingers threading between mine. His touch was warm, grounding.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he said, his voice rough. “I just want to keep you.”
My heart melted within my chest. “What happened?”
He pulled his hand from mine, and I almost felt his pain enter the room. “Where would you like to start?”
I licked my lips. “Wherever you would like to.”
The waiter interrupted us with the first course, and I felt some of the tension leave the room. Was this really good for oursecond date? The food looked like something that belonged in an art gallery and not really in my stomach. I wondered if that was why Dimitri had chosen this place.
As if he read my mind, he smiled and it was devastatingly beautiful smile. I was lost in it. “This is the first restaurant my mother brought me to. She loved the food but, she loved the way it looked even more. She’s the one who instilled a love of art within me. It was my first fine dining experience.”
“You speak fondly of your mother, so is she nothing like your father then?”
His brows furrowed. “She’s light to his dark. It was an arranged marriage for political and monetary reasons. My father’s father wanted everything that her father wanted.”
“The grannies’ husbands?” I was practically on the edge of my seat.
“Yes, and now they’re both dead.”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected that. “The grannies killed their husbands and became best friends throughout it all. Sometimes I wonder why my mother didn’t kill my father and live the life that they do.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “She’s too soft for that though. She wasn’t built for ruthlessness and the darkness that would come with it.”
I studied him, letting his words settle between us. The contrast between his parents was stark, and yet… it made sense. He was the product of both—a man molded by darkness but with too much light in him to fully become his father.
“Do you think she regrets it?” I asked softly, picking at the delicate dish in front of me.
“No, she doesn’t regret my father, though I know she’s making moves to be rid of him. She’s waiting for us, I think. But I know that she loves him too.”
I almost choked on the little bit of food in my mouth. “How could she love him?”
He smiled again, but this time it was haunted. He nodded slowly, swirling his wine. “I know. It doesn’t make sense. But I think… I think she sees something in him no one else does. Some version of him that existed before the power, before the corruption.”
My stomach twisted. “Or maybe she’s just afraid of what happens if she stops loving him.”
Dimitri’s gaze snapped to mine, sharp and assessing. “Maybe.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. I swirled my fork in the air, gesturing at our surroundings. “So this place, it reminds you of her—of your mother.”
“Yes,” he admitted, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “She was the first person to make me believe there was something more to life than the world my father built.”
I leaned forward slightly, my voice softer now. “And what about now? Do you still believe that?”
