Page 11 of Beautiful Trauma
Dima cocked his brows at me. “Should it matter?”
“Not really.”
“Is there a reason why you’re ignoring him?”
With an apathetic lift of my shoulder, I lied, “I’m busy.”
The statement wasn’t totally untrue. Despite not originally wanting to be part of my father’s dirty dealings with the gallery, I’d thrown everything I’d learned in my Public Relations degree into turning things around at The Lumiere. Although he’d never throw a compliment my way, I’d made the gallery successful in its own right without considering the money laundering. I organized and executed events that had the elite of Philadelphia society attending.
While my professional life was exceeding expectations, my personal one left much to be desired. My trust in others was murdered along with my mother. That meant I kept friends at arm’s length. Most could only take so much ghosting before they moved on.
I pretended not to care, but in reality, it left a gaping hole in my chest.
As for men, I never let myself get close enough to fall in love. They were a means to an end. An orgasm or two at the end of the evening, and then a blocked number.
Lately, I hadn’t even partaken in any meaningless sex, which left my neglected vagina protesting my actions.
I was brought out of my thoughts by Dima’s eyes darkening. “You know nothing good comes from ignoring Father.”
“Nothing good comes from trying to escape him either as well we know,” I snapped.
Pain flashed in Dima’s eyes. “Don’t,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“And I understand. I really do.”
As I stared intently into his eyes, words I shouldn’t think, let alone say, slip out. “Yet you stay and do his bidding.”
The vein in Dima’s forehead bulged. Our father did the same when he morphed into rage. “You should know better than anyone else that I have no choice,” he hissed.
For years, I survived only on a dream of Dima spiriting my siblings and I away in the night. Sometimes he took us to Russia. Other times we disappeared to Southeast Asia.
Anywhere from our father’s clutches.
And wherever we went, we were able to follow the desire of our hearts. No living a life of fear in our father’s shadow. No one forcing professions on us. No arranged marriages. No brutality.
Just peace.
But those were fantasies that never came true.
Since I didn’t want to alienate one of the greatest loves of my life, I nodded my acceptance to him. “I’m sorry.”
Dima sucked in a few harsh breaths through his nose. “Good.”
My heart ached at his expression. With every year that passed, I lost a little more of him to Father and the Bratva.I wondered how long it would be until he was completely unrecognizable.
With soulless eyes, Dima said, “Get your things. I’m taking you to Father.”
Another twist of my heart at my protector being my abductor.
“Give me five minutes,” I replied.
I didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, I whirled around before sprinting to my office so he wouldn’t see my tears.
After locking up the gallery, I followed Dima out the back door. As we stepped into the alley, Dima grabbed my hand, causing me to jump.
Regret flashed on his face. “I’m sorry for earlier,zaika.”
