Page 69 of The Tsar's Obsession
"How did you guys meet?" I posed the question, wanting to hear Dmitry's side of the story. Undoubtedly, Kirill and Dmitry seemed like two polar opposites, and I wondered how they remained friends and partners for so long.
Kirill was like a model, tall and broad-shouldered, but his facial features didn't hint at his professional life in the slightest. He had no visible tattoos if he wore a long-sleeved shirt, and he really could have been an investor, just like he lied when he first met me.
But Dmitry had some kind of ambiance I didn't want to fully acknowledge. Brutal. The jet-black hair and dark eyes only added to his intensity.
He always dressed in black and gray, his bomber jacket and military-style boots accentuating his tall and ripped physique. And then that large skull tattoo on the back of his hand. It all gave off criminal world vibes. Sitting beside him made the whole thing feel real.
I didn't like that.
I wanted to live in my perfect little bubble of love where Kirill did what he did out in the world, and when he was with me, he was a man who only sinned in the bedroom.
Dmitry leaned back against the couch, swirling the wine in his glass as he spoke.
"We met on the streets," he said easily, as if just mentioning it in passing. I already knew Kirill had been on his own as a child, but hearing it aloud never got easier. "We were homeless. Cold, hungry, dirty kids. We slept in the same bus shelter during the winter just to stay warm." A sad smile lingered on his lips, but his eyes observed the wine in his glass. "I guess when you have nothing, there’s nothing holding you back."
"I’m sorry." I really was. I couldn’t imagine what that kind of life was like. My father had given me everything; I’d never known real struggle. "That must have been awful. Didn’t anyone try to help you?"
Dmitry lifted his brows and let out a humorless chuckle. "No one wants to take in someone else's troublemaker, Mia. Kirill had no one. And I wasn’t staying anywhere near my parents’ house, that’s for sure."
My eyes caught sight of Polina again, still speaking to Kirill in an animated fashion. "What about Polina? When did you meet her?"
Dmitry tilted his head, as if thinking it over. "She was about sixteen when Kirill took her under his wing. I wanted nothing to do with her."
That caught my attention. "Why not?"
He glanced behind him to make sure Polina wasn’t listening, then lowered his voice, "Because she was, how to say... an easywoman. You know?" He gave me a knowing look. "And I had no interest in getting involved in that."
My head buzzing with Dmitry's words, I wanted to knoweverything, considering Kirill told me almost nothing, just that he had known her since they were teenagers. "What do you mean?" I pressed, feigning ignorance.
Dmitry studied me for a moment before leaning back with a smirk. "You really don’t know anything?"
I shook my head, dying to find out more details.
"She was a prostitute," he said bluntly, as if he were talking about the weather, but the word slashed against my ears. "She serviced the man we worked for. Him and his crew."
He leaned further back into the couch, looking comfortable, but my whole body was on edge from this story.
"One night, she left that man's office all battered, and Kirill saw it. His poor little heart couldn’t take it, so he paid the guy a shitload of money to ‘buy’ her out, so to speak. To make her exclusive, just for him." Dmitry used air quotes, watching my reaction closely. "She was very grateful. She was ready to serve him in the bedroom, but instead of fucking her, Kirill used her knowledge to take the man down. She knew all his people, his business, his secrets. Everything."
Holy shit. My butt was planted to the couch, immobile after the story. I had no idea what I was expecting, but I wasn’t prepared for these kinds of details. I turned my gaze toward Kirill who still leaned against the island in front of Polina, hands in his pockets, concentrated on her story.
"After that," Dmitry continued, “She became his little CIA spy. She’s cunning, manipulative, and a master seductress. Don’t let her long lashes and manicured nails fool you. She’s a fucking beast."
She was a beast. And who was I?
"That’s…quite the story." I managed to say, filling the silence with empty words.
Dmitry raised an eyebrow and asked curiously. "You really didn’t know?"
I waited a few seconds, thinking about what to say. "No. I never asked."
"Hmm." His low voice rumbled somewhere close by, but I couldn't look away from those long eyelashes he just mentioned. Her eyes were absolutely glued to Kirill who wasn't responding with the same energy. Why was she looking at him like that? Why was she so territorial? "Maybe you should ask more questions before you find yourself running away barefoot...with bloody hands."
And this changed our conversation in an instant. I twisted my head to Dmitry, who was no longer smiling, his eyes dead serious. "Don't have any illusions about who you're sharing a bed with, Mia. He would tell you the same; don't start thinking I'm gossiping here."
That little disclaimer did nothing for me. My skin broke out in goosebumps, and all I wanted was for the couch to swallow me whole.
"You just seem so innocent.” Dmitry’s little smirk suddenly looked anything but warm and genuine, like at the beginning of the conversation. “Far removed from our world, now that you know what it is.”
