Page 1 of Dimitri
Chapter 1
"You're making a mistake."
Dimitri turned from his contemplation of the view from the window overlooking the icy mountain towards his brother and smiled slightly. Alexei was older by two years, which made him forty-four and wore his authority as the heir to the vast Petrov resources like a mantle. After all, he had been groomed for the position since he was born.
Both men bore an astonishing resemblance to each other. Tall, well over six feet, tanned, athletic with dense ink black hair and piercing dark eyes, they were handsome and commanded respect in their hometown of Russia. Despite their almost military upbringing, they shared a bond that only brothers did.
"You're, how shall we say? Concerned for me." They also had an excellent command of the English language. As well as four other languages including the native tongue.
"I am, yes." Alexei strode towards the liquor cabinet. Picking up a bottle of their own vintage whiskey, he studied the label, with a proud look on his handsome face, before reaching for a tumbler. "Papa will not allow you to leave."
A flicker of annoyance covered Dimitri's face before it was erased. They were Russians as well as being Petrovs and didnot show their emotions. That had been taught as well and was ingrained.
"I am a grown man. Like he keeps telling me." He was chafing with impatience but managed to control the restless movements. Accepting the glass from his brother, he moved back to the window to contemplate the view. There was nowhere like his home in Moscow. Other people, some who did not and could not appreciate its icy beauty, would call it harsh and unforgiving. But they would be wrong.
The mountains were covered with snow, the dazzling white a perfect backdrop for the pearly sky. Their home sat on a slight incline with towering trees and dense foliage dripping with ice particles. Winter had hurtled in with a vengeance and even though it was barely January, snow had come in droves. He liked the cold, relished it actually.
He had spent time in other countries, but Moscow would always be home for him. Only for the first time, it felt strange like a suit that did not quite fit. Ever since mother had left them. No, she had died. Someone, a careless driver, had taken her away from them and the pain was felt keenly. He needed a fresh start.
"You belong here." His brother's voice jarred him out of his painful reverie and brought on a fresh spate of anger. Controlling it was easy of course; he had learned from a very early age to do just that.
Without turning, he took a sip of the excellent liquor and responded. "You're the first born, the favored son." It was said without an ounce of resentment. Dimitri loved his brother and accepted his role in the family. "You've produced an heir, a son." A smile curved his lips as he thought of his adorable nephew. Only three and already a true Petrov. "You will produce more."
"And you?"
Lifting his shoulders in a shrug, Dimitri often wondered the same thing. He had been with many women. After all, he was a Petrov and women chased after them. He had his share, but none had interested him enough to want to give up his freedom. He was not made to love that way. Perhaps he would go through life being alone and unattached.
"I will, how do you say? Discover what life holds for me when I leave here."
"You love this place."
This time he turned and gave the older man an assessing glance. Authority suited his brother. He was dressed in black, they both were, but Alexei was also wearing a jacket over his thick cashmere sweater. Very soon, the maid would announce dinner and then the real test would begin. But his mind was made up.The plans were in place and within a week or so, he would be leaving his home for an unspecified time.
He needed healing and he would take the time needed to do so. He just had to get away. There were times he felt as if he was suffocating. It had to be done. He would do better at his grandparents' place. They needed him as well.
"I do. It's home." He acknowledged simply. "Always will be. But I have to go, and I will. No matter what he says." His mouth tightened, the sensuous lips thinning. "I will do what pleases me for a change." He flicked a hand in the air. "We've always been rule keepers. Do this or do that and we have, no questions asked. I want the freedom to do things my own way."
"I miss her too." Alexei said quietly, watching the younger man closely. That much was true, but he had a wife, a son, both of whom meant the world to him and his position as VP of Petrov Industries gave him purpose. His brother was different. Dimitri hated the confines of the office, and it showed. And he had been their mother's favorite.
"Yes." He did not want to talk about her. It was still too much, even with his only sibling. "So does he."
Their father might be a tyrant, a man who ruled his family and company with a rod of iron, but he had genuinely loved hiswife. She was the only American he could stand. Losing her had devastated him. Even after a year, he still had not recovered. They had both seen the usually strong and indomitable man crumple in acute pain. The same pain that had left him shattered and bitter.
He was finally seeing other women, a new one every week, after all, the Petrov men were known for their healthy sex lives. But no one could hold a candle to the extraordinarily beautiful Angela Petrov. And no one would. She had been in a class of her own.
Tossing back the drink, Dimitri squared his shoulders and pinned on a smile. "Perfect timing." He nodded to the maid who stood in the doorway and ignored her look of invitation. He was a Petrov and that meant, taking up with the help was never allowed.
*****
The dining room was stark. Aesthetic, white with an antique table best suited to host a dinner party of thirty people. There was a smaller more intimate one in the informal dining area, but that had been closed off since the death of the lady of the house. It was where she had insisted on having supper with her family. This one was formally reserved for out-of-town guests and dinner parties.
Ivanov had ordered the intimate dining room closed off, just as he had ordered her salon, one she had designed herself, off limits. Now here they were as a family, having the meal in almost complete silence. Conversations were not usually allowed at the dinner table, at least not anymore. The atmosphere was oppressive, the silence heavy. And unbearable.
Dimitri knew he was in for an interrogation, one that was going to be taxing. If he had not made his mind up about leaving, he would have stayed. An argument with Ivanov always left him weary and angry. He wanted it over and done with.
With that in mind, he pushed aside his plate, indicating that he was finished with his meal. His sister-in-law, an exceptionally lovely Russian born and bred woman looked over at him and offered a bolstering smile. Anastasia Petrov understood what was racing through his mind. He loved her and had at times wished he had seen her first. But now she was his sister and friend.
"Papa..."
