4. DMITRI

4

DMITRI

Kavi Basra barges into my hotel room and makes me forget my pain. I can't breathe, but I don't care. Her hair is not as bright pink as before, but her mouth is still full and fucking kissable. I stare as she yells.

"You deserve to be punched! Not that I'll hit you, because that's sinking to your level. But don't get comfortable either, because I could!"

My face tilts back, broadcasting blunt arrogance. Take a shot, Princess.

She stops circling and glares. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

No. There's nothing to say, because she shouldn't be here. She's not my princess. We shouldn't be talking, and I should not be noticing the neckline of her top or the taut fabric stretching over her curves. I rip my eyes away like I've always had to, pretending she doesn't exist.

"I see," she snaps. "You're the same, but bigger and meaner. Why did I expect something different?"

A concave feeling in my chest takes a second to understand. Disappointment? It better not be.

"What you did tonight was unacceptable." Her hands move in the air. "Pure macho bullshit. Utter neanderthal garbage."

She's talking about the fight with Smith. I assumed that's why she was here, but the confirmation pisses me off. Did he send her? Is it his plan? To use her to mess with my head so I can't play properly?

It'll work. And this is the last thing I need.

The only thing that matters is my contract getting renewed. That's why fighting Smith was a massive clusterfuck.

Bruised hip. Ribs. Shoulder.

I was fucking lucky my knee didn't get hit. If it got caught in the cross-fire, then I'd fall down like my old man with his buried dreams.

"Are you listening to me, Lokhov?"

She's still talking. Does her mouth ever stop?

"There are ways to get into a player's head, but not like that. "

I sneak a peek. Her cheeks are flushed. I see . She's been drinking. That makes more sense. It means the real Kavi Basra is out of her cage, too caught up to overthink and downplay her opinions.

"He was skating away and then you went after him," she yells.

True.

"He got hurt! It could have ended his career."

I know. I counted each punch, Princess. And too bad it didn't.

"If you hadn't said all those terrible things about me, then he wouldn't have had to defend me!"

What the fuck? I blink. Instead of blocking her out like I've trained myself to do, I'm back to staring. Her last words repeat in my head, and I do something my voice hasn't done in a while.

I laugh.

The sound is rusty. Unused. But I can't help myself.

My hand runs through my hair. It's damp from the shower I took earlier. "You think I trash-talked you?"

Of course the bastard spun it that way. Not that I should correct her. No, it's a mistake that I opened my mouth to laugh in the first place because Kavi has shot across the room to invade my personal space. I tip my head down to look at her. This pipsqueak of a nightmare is assaulting me with her pleading brown eyes. A thigh almost brushes against my leg.

A low noise tries escaping my throat.

"Why does that surprise you?" She prods my arm. "Why did you laugh?"

When I don't answer, her tone sharpens.

"Dmitri."

The sound of my name on her lips is torture. I shouldn't have answered her text, and I certainly shouldn't have let her in my hotel suite. But she said she was wandering the streets alone, and I couldn't have that, could I?

Her forehead furrows. "Wait. Tell me. You didn't say horrible, unspeakable things about me?"

"Like what?"

She chews her bottom lip. "I'm not sure. Tyler didn't say. Maybe how I've achieved absolutely nothing to be proud of?"

The blood in my veins goes glacial. Is that what he's filling her head with? That asshole thinks I lost it at this game? He's got no idea what's coming for him.

"You won't believe me if I tell you the truth." My voice is low and harsh. She lets me go, clearly shaken. My hand lifts, but I stop it in time. What the fuck? Was I about to touch her?

My fingers clench into a fist. To distract myself, I focus on my rage. Tyler Smith is scum. My knuckles vibrate with the need to hit him again.

"It's fine," she says softly, clearly retreating into a shell. Gone is the bravado. Gone is her rage. What's left is an act of her being okay. "All I want is the truth. I'm saying if you did say all that, it wouldn't hurt my feelings."

My teeth grind. "Yeah?"

"It's what everyone is thinking."

"No."

Her mouth slants with confusion, so I repeat myself.

"No."

Then I force myself to add, " You're the one who's too good for Smith."

Her chuckle is weak. "Hmm."

My body strains, swamped with an urge of protectiveness, screaming at me to do something. Does she really think he's better than her? How is that possible? Seriously?

"Step away from me." My voice comes out harsh. Great .

She winces, but listens.

"Stay right there," I order. "Be quiet."

From my pocket, I pull out my phone and move further away so she's nowhere near me. Scrolling to his number, I wonder if he'll answer.

I've not saved the contact, but like clockwork, before every game we play, he texts me to talk shit, thinking it gets into my head.

I'll video call him so she'll know for sure it's him. Smith might have her fooled, but he doesn't pretend to be anything other than a total jackass around me. Maybe that will help her realize the poison he's whispering into her ears isn't true.

I don't care if this is a bad idea. I can't stop myself. Maybe if I do this, she'll learn the truth and leave.

The video comes to life. I'm treated to a pretty-boy grin as Smith answers.

There are party sounds in the background, but the noise softens as he walks into what looks like a separate room.

Before he can speak, I start. "What you said tonight, never say it again."

Smith cackles. "The only thing I'll do differently is get in your head at the start of the game now that I know it works."

My nostrils flare.

Smith keeps going. "Known for your legendary control, aren't you? The man no one wants to mess with? What a joke. You lost it so easily when I brought up this particular topic."

"I. Don't. Care." Each word is ground out.

"Don't you? All I did was brag about how much I love her fat mouth on my dick."

From the corner of my eyes, I see Kavi stiffen.

Something dark and possessive rolls down my spine. "She has nothing to do with our rivalry. Leave her out of this."

"Not a fucking chance. She's going to marry me . I have everything, Lokhov. And you are lucky that my ankle isn't broken. It's only sprained. Either way, your team is rolling you out on a fucking stretcher next time, and she'll be watching it happen, cheering me on. Won't that be something? You prick."

How he's speaking isn't new or shocking to me, but the whites of Kavi's eyes show.

Smith laughs again, unaware. "Did you call me to confess? Is this about your obsession?—"

I hang up.

Kavi marches over to me. Her face is splotchy. "Call him back."

"Wasn't that enough?"

"No. Call him back now."