Chapter 104 Chapter 104 The Mafia Boss' Birthday
Dimitri is sitting at a table with a group of suits, swirling a dark drink in his glass like he doesn’t have a single problem in the world. He laughs at something one of them says.
I strut toward him in this see-through dress with pure, unfiltered determination. Every step feels heavy, my anger carrying me forward.
Finally, he looks up.
His eyes lock onto mine, then drag slowly down my body. He chokes on his drink mid-sip, coughing hard. Those cerulean eyes darken the closer I get, shifting into something deeper, heavier.
I stop in front of the table, gripping the backs of two chairs while I wait for him to stop coughing.
“Duchess,” he says with a grin, voice rougher now. “You’re not leaving much to the imagination.”
Every man at the table turns. Heads tilt. Eyes drop. I can feel them taking me in, stripping me bare.
“Duchess?” I repeat, raising a brow. Since when does he call me that?
He just grins wider, offering no explanation.
“We need to talk, Dimitri.”
“I think we did enough talking in Mexico,” he shoots back, laughing. The rest of the suits join in like a pack of trained idiots.
One of them leans forward, looking me over like I’m something to be handled. “Dimitri, do you need me to deal with this female?” he says. Then to me, “Go find your seat, honey. The General doesn’t want to talk to you.”
I snap my gaze to him. “Was I talking to you, asshole?”
He pushes his chair back and stands.
“Sit. Down.” I lean forward slightly, voice sharp enough to cut. “Before I sit you down.”
I am not in the mood, and I will absolutely knock his ass out if he pushes me.
“Sit down, Nicholas,” Dimitri says calmly, not even looking at him. “Before she drops you. Remember the clip of Mason Jones folded on the ground?” His eyes flick back to me briefly. “That was her. I don’t need one of my captains embarrassed in front of everyone.”
A few murmurs ripple through the table. Nicholas sits.
Dimitri stands, pulling out his phone, removing his earpiece and a few other things, dropping them onto the table.
“Let’s go talk, Duchess,” he says, dripping sarcasm. The table erupts in laughter again.
I don’t wait. I turn and walk, pushing through the double doors and into the hallway. My pulse is racing, my hands clenched into fists.
He catches up quickly, reaching for me—but I slap his hand away hard enough that it stings my palm.
“Boys, clear the hallway,” he orders.
Guards move instantly, filing out without question.
Dimitri opens the bathroom door, and we step inside. The second it shuts, I lose it.
I slam both hands against his chest.
“I let you in, and you left me alone!” My voice cracks, emotion clawing its way up. “I want things with you I’ve never wanted with anyone else!”
I stop, trying to swallow the tears threatening to spill.
“Was this a fucking joke? Something to brag about to your guys?” I hit him again. And again. “Say something, you asshole!”
My hands keep striking his chest, over and over. “I let you in!” I repeat, like if I say it enough, it’ll finally land.
Dimitri exhales, loosening his tie as he leans back against the sink.
“I shouldn’t have,” he says quietly. “I took an oath. I took it too far.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You let me fall in love with you,” I throw back at him. “You knew everything—my thoughts, my fucked-up dreams—and you just walked away. Dropped me and let me shatter like every other guy!”
My voice shakes. My throat burns.
“Fuck you. Fuck your oath. Fuck your empty words.”
The tears press harder, but I force them back. I refuse to cry in front of him.
Dimitri steps forward suddenly, grabbing me, pulling me into him. His lips crash into mine before I can stop him.
And my body betrays me instantly.
I melt into him—into the heat, the familiarity, the way he fits against me like he was built for it. I hate myself for it, but my hands clutch at him, afraid he’ll disappear again.
His mouth moves to my neck, finding that spot, the one he knows will unravel me. He bites down softly. A moan slips out before I can stop it, and I hate myself even more for that.
His hand slides under my dress, finding me, invading me.
Dimitri groans, pressing his forehead into my neck. “I miss you,” he breathes. “Even now, with you in my arms, with my fingers inside you—I fucking miss you.”
His fingers press deeper.
“I told you I want to give you everything…” He inhales sharply. “…but I took an oath. To serve. No relationships. No love. No kids. No family.”
He pulls back, forcing me to look at him.
“If I break it, I die.”
My breath catches.
“There is no way out,” he continues. “Being his son doesn’t protect me. I used to hunt oath breakers.”
He rips open his dress shirt, lifting the undershirt. Then he grabs my hand and presses it to his chest.
The scars, little lines.
I feel every single one under my fingertips.
“These,” he says, voice low, “are oath breakers. Confirmed kills. Every one of them.”
My stomach twists.
“Ask me how many.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to know.
“Ask me, Elena.” His voice drops, commanding. “Ask.”
“How many?” I whisper.
“Three hundred twenty-nine.”
The number hits like a punch.
“Every single one had someone who loved them,” he continues. “Like I love you.” His head drops slightly. “I would rather live and share the pain than leave you alone with it.”
Silence stretches between us.
“I thought you married him,” he adds quietly. “I lost my mind.”
“I only want to marry you,” I admit, the truth spilling out before I can stop it.
His lips are on mine again instantly, desperate, consuming.
Control slips through my fingers as I give in, just for a second. His tongue moves against mine, slow, intoxicating. His hand slides back under my dress, fingers finding exactly what they’re looking for.
I gasp softly as he moves, building pressure, making my body respond like it remembers everything.
He pulls his hand away, undoing his belt, freeing himself. Then he lifts me onto the counter, pushing my dress up carefully.
He presses against me, asking without words.
I want it. God, I want it. My body aches for it, dripping with need.
His tip slides in just slightly, and we both groan.
And then—
I stop him.
“No.”
I push against his chest, forcing space between us.
“No. I don’t want to.”
He freezes, confusion flashing across his face.
I take a breath, grounding myself. “If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want any of you.”
The words feel solid. Real.
I slide off the counter, fixing my dress, smoothing my hair like nothing just happened.
Then I walk out.
Leaving him behind—shirt torn open, dick in his hand, and me finally in control.