Page 41 of Sweetest Sin
Peyton
“My brother did.”
I take a step back, even though there’s nowhere to go on this plane.
“My brother did.”
I knew what Dominick was capable of. I’d learned it the hard way four and a half years ago. But the fact that he’s outright admitting it instead of denying it tells me more than when I thought he was responsible for Dale’s death.
“You—”
“Never lied,” he finishes. “I asked if he was giving you any more issues, and you said he was dead.”
He shrugs.
The motherfucker shrugs!
“You knew and didn’t say anything!”
“Who’s Damien?” he asks nonchalantly, changing the subject like he didn’t just admit to playing a vital part in a man’s death.
“None of your damn business,” I hiss, refusing to answer his question.
He reaches out to stop me, but I’m prepared this time and duck out of his hold, practically running to the front of the plane.
“What the hell was that?” Sonia asks once we’re out of earshot of Dominick. “You know who he is, right?” she says, her voice shaking.
I do know who he is. Dominick Antonov. The son of Andrey and Larisa, brother to Matteo and Brielle. His father was worth millions, but after he passed away four and a half years ago, Dominick took over the company and has expanded it tenfold. He’s taken the real estate market by storm, investing in dozens of commercial and residential properties, making him one of the youngest billionaires in the country.
The online articles paint him as Harbor Point’s most eligible bachelor. Women flock from all over to try to catch the beautiful business mogul. He donates to charities, and his latest project will create housing for hundreds of lower-income families.
But below the surface, there’s more to the Antonov family. It’s what you won’t find online because they make sure to have it all wiped from the internet. But I asked around and learned they were dangerous, violent, and above the law. It was hard to get anyone to talk. From what I’ve gathered, they own the entire city—drugs, weapons, underground gambling, you name it—nothing in Harbor Point happens without their say.
“Yeah,” I tell Sonia, “I know exactly who Dominick Antonov is.”
And I’ll be damned if he gets anywhere near me or my life again.
The restof the flight is spent with Dominick working and me avoiding him. Sonia brings him his meals, and I handle thingsfrom the galley until he finally calls it a night and retreats to the back bedroom to get some sleep, allowing us to take turns doing the same.
When we arrive at the airport in Moscow, I hide while Sonia sees Dominick off, and then we head through security and go straight to the hotel since it’s not even noon yet and we’re not leaving until tomorrow morning.
Usually, when we fly to somewhere I haven’t been to, I’ll explore the city, but from what I could find, Russia isn’t the safest, so I decide to stay at the hotel until I need to report back to the plane.
Generally, I try to only fly local, not wanting to be gone overnight, but I’m filling in for a colleague of mine who had a family emergency, and I owed her one.
And it’s just my luck that I was stuck on a flight with Dominick Antonov.
Once I’m situated in my room, I text my babysitter, Lisa, to check on Damien, despite it being one a.m. there and she won’t see it until the morning when she takes Damien to school.
After my mom died, since I was struggling to pay the bills and had to give up the house we were renting, I moved Damien and me into a small apartment, where I met Lisa. She’s a sweet older woman, who immediately took a liking to Damien, saying he reminded her of her grandbabies she didn’t get to see because her son was in the military and lived overseas. The woman has been a godsend, watching Damien when I need to work and he’s not in school.
The plan was to live in the apartment until I finished school. Thanks to a scholarship I’d received that covered my entire tuition and books, I walked across the stage with my degrees in business administration and hospitality last month, and I’ve started to apply to companies so I can get a better-paying job and move us somewhere nicer with two bedrooms. I haven’tgotten any calls for an interview yet, but I’m hoping something will pop up.
I spend some time reading, order room service for dinner, and fall asleep before the sun goes down, both mentally and physically exhausted.
Before I know it, my alarm is going off to let me know it’s time to report back to the plane, and I’m reminded of who I’m going to see on board.
“You’ve got this,” I tell myself in the mirror as I apply my makeup. “One more flight, and then you’ll never have to see Dominick Antonov again.”
