Page 40 of Possessive Vows

Dimitri Volkov.

Snapshots of the last thirty seconds flit through my brain.

In the bathroom, he pulled away the moment I snapped. He saved me from concussing myself on the hardwood. Stopped my brother from touching me and making it worse. Talked me out of my panic attack.

Blood streams down his face from his nose as he squats a few feet away.

It’s my fault. I elbowed him.

“M-Mio Dio, I’m sorry, Dimitri.”

I sound like a frog with my emotions clogging my throat, but urgency pulses through me. I can’t let Giorgio think this was Dimitri’s fault, and the guilt shredding my heart demands I apologize.

Dimitri swipes the back of his tattooed hand over his nose.

“Is nothing,so´lnyshka, as long as you are okay,” he assures me.

I nod even though I do not feelat allokay.

I can’t marry him, not if he doesn’t understand the noose he’s tying around his neck if he does.

“Maybe I should bandage her up,” Loretta says from the doorway.

I shake my head. A hollow ringing at the base of my skull warns of another attack. I hold up my palm in the universal sign for stop.

“Out. Please. I’ll be okay, but I need—”

Loretta steps out of sight before I finish, and Aurora leans into the room to pull Giorgio through the doorway as Dimitri rises and steps toward the hall.

“No! Not you. You stay,” I demand.

Aurora closes the door, but I glimpse Giorgio’s expression of shock before the wood comes between us.

“I need to tell you something,” I say before my courage dries up.

“Sit on the bed,so´lnyshka. You do not belong on the floor,” he says.

The first tear drips down my cheek, but I don’t bother wiping it away since I’m sure there will be many more to follow.

Dread and heartbreak pulse throughout my body as I prepare to tell him just how broken I am, because the possibility of him turning his back on me and never returning is very real.

And very painful.

Chapter 10

Dimitri Volkov

Camilla’s misery waftsfrom her every move as she forces herself to her feet and stumbles to sit at the foot of the bed. I long to pull her into a hug and cease her trembling but cannot risk sending her into another panic attack.

When she glances up at me, her brows pull together in a scowl.

My sinuses throb and fresh warmth trickles down my chin, but she didn’t break my nose. If I were a lesser man, she would have shattered my face with her vicious blow, but after innumerable hits over my lifetime, it’ll take much more than a sunbeam’s elbow to hurt me. I smirk as I recall her ferocity but fall somber when I remember the blind panic in her expression.

“Stay there,” she commands.

Like a hound eager for a treat, I stay frozen in place as she staggers into the bathroom and returns with an icepack and a damp washcloth.

She stops a few steps away from me and considers her options before offering them to me on outstretched palms. I accept them and wait for her to lift her head before I thank her. She nods and limps back to the bed. As I wipe the blood from my face and pinch my nose, she sits in silence and traces the strap of the ice pack on her arm.

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