Chapter Eighteen - Dimitri

Four years on…

A light melodic tone filters through the ballroom speakers, as I survey the room. It’s packed with Chicago’s high-society types, darkness covered in fancy suits, and women playing dress-up, concealing and buying into their secrets. And per every square inch of table, there’s the bare minimum of a millionaire sitting at it. Another glitzy charity event to increase my profile and power. There’s enough media personnel to have me on the socialite pages, and I’m in the right room for business.

A petite, manicured hand with a fat diamond ring on it, lands on top of mine, clinging on. Staring down at it, an instantaneous feeling to pull away from it follows, but I play the game smiling without feeling as I stare at Cara, my fiancée, pretending that we’re in love, when we’re anything but.

My mother got her wish, and these days she gets whatever she wants because she’s the one my mother choose for me, and in the end, she’d been right.

If I think hard enough about how Ava betrayed me, the ache in my heart intensifies. So, I don’t let her enter. I keep the door closed most of the time, the door blocked with a boulder, but every now and then the ghost of Ava sneaks up on me, drifting into my thoughts and making me think about what could have been.

Cara’s the right pedigree of woman for my endeavors, and she is what I deserve. And it’s already proving to be a partnership that’s bearing fruit, her billionaire father introducing me to the right connections for Raven’s Peak and adjacent ventures. The ink has dried on some of the contracts, but still, I feel nothing for the woman who occupies my bed every night.

“You made the right decision, son. You can’t let a little fling stand in the way of what our family is destined for. You’ve worked too hard to make a comeback. We’ve been the dark horses for too long, and it’s our time to take our spot in the Bratva ranks.”

My mother made the speech at our next family dinner. The one where she innocently inquired about what happened to Ava, but she’s just a distant fog, and only Raven’s Peak exists in her wake. I haven’t asked my associates where she went after she left that final day, and I don’t care to know, but I could find her location if I really wanted to.

“You look miles away, Dimitri. What are you thinking about?” Cara politely chuckles, her aquiline nose perfectly powdered, along with her immaculate polished features and turquoise-colored nails matching her off-the-shoulder ball gown.

She always knows what to wear at all times and how to greet high society members. She has a closet full of clothes that most women would die for and not a blonde hair is out of place. She resembles a Russian doll and couldn’t look more perfect on my arm. We even have matching hair color and eyes, and together we make a formidable couple.

“Nothing,” I lie. “Having a good night?” I ask, trying to find any reason to love her, and there’s plenty of reasons. She’s not unsatisfying in bed, and seems to be open to my every whim, but we don’t have chemistry, only a fake promise to make each other more money.

“I am. I think there’s a jazz ensemble about to play soon. Maybe we can dance a little,” Cara suggests, her blue eyes sparkling.

“Hmm, maybe.” I turn her hand over squeezing it for a second, but wishing it were someone else I was here with. No. Don’t think about the betrayer.

Disappointment rides over Cara’s face, but I have no problem letting her down. She’s merely a placeholder to me. And if it’s supposed to work out, then we will have two perfect children and live in our mansion together all our days.

“Did you see your brother is here. Looks like he found a date for the night. I met her, and she seems nice.”

“Oh, you did?” I small talk with her, the haunting face of Ava flashing in my mind. Ryurik and her got along well, and he seemed just as smitten by her as was I, but it’s all just a bad dream.

“Yes! I spoke to him on the way to the bathroom earlier. Maybe he’ll bring her to the family dinner.” Scoffing at Cara’s delusion, I shake my head.

“No. He won’t bring her. It’s likely she’s been paid to attend the event, knowing my little brother,” I whisper hoarsely. Cara doesn’t flinch at all; she understands it.

“Yes. That might be true. Ruslan’s here as well, I saw him talking to Dane.” I stare at Cara for a moment. Nothing seems to get past her if she’s at an event. Her ability to reel off every name in the room is why I like to bring her to these events. That and given the fact she’s my fiancée.

“Ah. Of course, they’re business partners. Makes sense,” I tell her, distracted by the other men at the table, making small talk about business, but a thud hits my heart with a song change as “Pillars of You” by Ava’s favorite songwriter and singer drifts through the speakers, the strum of a guitar starting the song. An assembly of old thoughts cascade in through the door I’ve got locked, the light shining in.

She would dance around the house to the song, singing out of tune, but I loved her voice. Everything about its distinct blend sounded like pure harmonics to me. Ava’s ghost is still haunting me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get rid of it completely. It’s the price I have to pay for entertaining her in the first place. I wanted to believe her when she told me, but what I saw… it was too much, and couldn’t be denied. But I have the secret still. Cara has no idea, and she never will. She’s not the type to snoop, she plays her role very well.

I held on to a keepsake of Ava that day. A scarf she left behind. A forest-green one stowed deep in the back of my closet with the scent soaked through its fibers. In the beginning, I would sniff it in torture, wanting Ava back, but I sat for nights on end privately reviewing the links, but I had to drag myself out of the sunken hole and send the links to archives. I didn’t want to risk opening them accidentally and reliving the nightmare.

Our arrangement stood for Raven’s Peak. I didn’t go back on my word. Ava will receive a percentage as operations get underway, and we are almost there, clearing the way for mining permits and other bullshit had been a problem until they realized who I was. Mysteriously, all the permits required began to come through very quickly.

Sentimental feelings are what made me lose my head in the first place, and for a moment I got lost in them. I blink, removing the glaze of nostalgia from my eyes, clearing my throat.

“Are you okay?” Cara comforts as I stare at her coldly, because in reality she could never replace Ava, but she does try.

“I’m fine. Nothing to worry about,” I reply, not caring if I’ve convinced her or not. “Look, the entrée is on the way.” I redirect Cara to the food arriving, and to my relief the song gently fades away. It’s five-star quality as usual, and the company at the table is respectable, and I know every man at the table inside and out. Most of them are stuffy rich people with hidden—sometimes open motives. They’re wrapped up in their own worlds of politics, deceit, money, and private trivial dramas, and the one person who gave me enough strength to stomach it was Ava.

With her sweet candor and innocent view of the world, she somehow was able to help me coax enjoyment out of these events.

“Why is caviar such a delicacy? Isn’t it just fish eggs?”

Amused, attending a business expo event together, I’d laughed, but other associates had given Ava a dressing down for not knowing what it was.

“Yes. It’s a delicacy, because it’s rare. Like you.” I kissed the place behind her ear, finding out it was a spot that got her hot, knowing she would be squirming at the table until we got home that night.

“I do like it, it’s different, but it’s not as filling as a hot pastrami sandwich hear Broadway.”

“No. It’s not.” And it was those types of statements that reminded me of a real, normal life in Chicago. She wasn’t from the sheltered high-flying life that I lived, and that’s why she was refreshing to be around. She gave me the opportunity to see life with color. I stand up for a minute wanting to stretch my legs and to get a grip on my mind.

Other men at the table have the same idea after the entrée, taking the opportunity to mingle with other guests at the neighboring tables. Cara stands with me, her eyes longingly wanting to connect with mine, but Ava stole that romantic part of me, and I don’t necessarily want it back. My answer is a cool smile as she slides her hand around my waist. I stare at her for a moment, wondering how long she’s been brainwashed into acting in certain ways in order to have what she wants.

Not Ava. She had principles that she was willing to fight for. Or that’s what she had me believe in the beginning, and she wasn’t afraid to fight me over things. Cara only ever agreed with my plans. “If that’s what you think is best,” is always her response, and I’m sick to death of it.

Ava. Ava. Ava. Apparently, I wasn’t enough for her, and she wanted more than I could give. I slide Cara’s arm out from around my waist as she lays her head on my shoulder. She’s getting too close, and that’s not something I’m going to allow.

“Honestly, sometimes, I don’t know what you want,” Cara says in a quiet voice, but I remain stoic. Silent.

Taking a seat again, Cara’s ashen face reveals a flash of sadness, but she has her own personal motivation for her jewelry and accessories line, wanting me to bolster it through my connections to the Chicago media outlets. Her father might know them, but he doesn’t have the same relationship with them as I do. Marrying me is merely a beneficial power play, and one her father is aware of. If she ever wants the relationship to end, all she has to do is say the word. I don’t give a fuck.

The main course arrives as the event begins, the founder arriving on stage as they explain the auction process and bring out the board to keep a tally of the profits being raised. I know for a fact all the profits aren’t going to where they say they are. A third of them are being skimmed by the Bratva and coming right back into our pockets. Hence, why I donate a large amount only to receive it back double. It has the added benefit of giving me a “good name” in philanthropy circles, as well as the access to who I can corrupt and do business with in the future.

It’s the way of the Bratva. During the main course any thoughts of Ava thin out, and Viktor, who’s seated to the left of me whispers in my ear.

“Don’t forget we have an early flight out to L.A. tomorrow.”

“Ah, I forgot; I’ve been buried under paperwork at my desk lately.”

“Yes. I know, because I’m the one doing the burying,” he quips, cocking an eyebrow at me. Smirking, I clap him on the back.

“That’s right. I hate you. Remind me to deduct it from your wages,” I say to him sarcastically, noting Cara’s found somebody else at the table to engage with. Good. It takes the pressure off me entertaining her.

“I’m going to need a raise after our meeting tomorrow with Anatoly Petrov. He’s going to be a huge credit to our business, you understand, right?”

“I do indeed. Petrov Energy could be another solid investment for Raven’s Peak. I trust Anatoly enough to consider giving him a stake in the property. Especially if he can do what he claims he can.”

“Yes. And that’s the part we want to confirm. Can he do what he claims? Interesting enough, right?” Viktor proposes.

“Yes. L.A. here we come.”