Page 1 of Darling Dmitri

Present

Dmitri

Whoever coined the term “waiting for the other shoe to drop” should have to take a swift kick in the nuts. Fuck that. I would never even give the first shoe a chance to fall. Even if life’s circumstances were out of your control, you could always change your own destiny. I certainly did. The way I started out in life would’ve looked bleak to anyone else, but I’d come a long way from those days. I was heading into my senior year at Hillside as the star wide receiver, with a national championship title under my belt.

With my three best friends who were also ballers, Roman, Nick, and Axel, we had all committed to stay an extra year and shoot for another championship ring. And after this year, we’d all go into the NFL. That was the blueprint. The plan. Our dreams were about to be a reality as we geared up for our final season of college football.

My life at Hillside was simple, straightforward, and filled with a fuck lot of fun and debauchery. Just like I wanted it. No complications. My only responsibilities included playing football, passing my classes, and staying out of trouble. Simple concept, right?

We all lived in a 5,000-square-foot house off campus and spent the day hanging out in our pool, enjoying the final days before we reported back to football practice in August. It’d been hotter than hell today, but the sun was setting, giving us a little reprieve. Roman and Nick manned the grill, and now we were about to sit down and have hamburgers. It didn’t get better than this.

Until I heard Axel call out, “Are you lost, little girl?”

Was this one of Axel’s groupies? I wouldn’t be surprised since it’d happened before when a girl showed up at our house unannounced, looking for him. I followed his gaze, gearing up to see the potential drama unfold.

Then I saw who it was.

My humor fled.

It washer.

My nemesis.

The never-ending thorn in my side.

And the first shoe fell.

Dmitri

—Age 16

Ever since I first laid eyes on her, she was a thorn in my—no, scratch that. She was more like a battering ram, bludgeoning me until I broke.

I had recently turned sixteen when my adopted father, Artynom Popov, or Arty, brought home the dark-haired girl with black hair and deep, brown, wide eyes who looked like a waif.

“This is Sorina. Your new sister,” he announced as he drew her close to his side.

“Wait, what?” Dad went out of town on one of his many business trips and came back with a daughter? I noticed her eyes narrowed slightly as she clasped her hands together.

“We will discuss this later,” Artynom said quietly with a steel warning laced in his diction. In all the years I’d lived with him, he’d never raised his voice, and he wouldn’t now. I knew. But I also knew he was not sharing any more information on the topic, for now.

He smiled gently at her as he guided her around me. “Let me show you to your room.” My gaze was still on her in puzzlement as I saw our driver, Logan, stacking suitcases in the foyer. Logan was more than just a driver. He was like another member of our family.

“Dmitri, help Logan carry her luggage upstairs. Her room is the one across from yours,” my father called out without a backward glance, and I was about to mutter something under my breath when I noticed dark eyes watching me with a mixture of curiosity and…something else that almost seemed like smugness.

Before I could analyze it, she turned away and followed Artynom through the museum-like living area to the spacious curved staircase.

I briefly glanced up at the ceiling in annoyance before stalking over to the Louis Vuitton set of luggage piled up high. Logan was red-faced as he struggled to lift a trunk. What the fuck did she bring? Who needed a damn trunk? My man was a big, stocky guy, but he wasn’t the epitome of health by most standards. He had an impressive beer gut and smoked like a chimney. In his defense, he was somewhat strong for a middle-aged man and always tried, so I gave him an A for effort.

“Let me help you.” I gripped one end of the stupid trunk, while he grunted, wrestling the other end into his arms. It was heavy. Dad could’ve hired people to move her in. I mean, it looked like we were moving in the fucking queen or some shit. And Arty had more money than most. However, he was also practical and drilled the value of hard work into my head. To say he was a shrewd businessman was an understatement.

He probably thought this was good exercise for me anyway, since I’d just started football practice a few weeks ago. I was a sophomore in high school, and we had two-a-day training every day in August until school began. I guess Dad thought I was slacking on my weight lifting.

By the time we made it up the stairs and down the long hallway to the door on my left, Logan was huffing like he needed an oxygen mask. Maybe he should lay off the foot-long pastrami subs that he so craved like a long-lost love. Along with being a human kegerator…

Artynom was pointing around the room, giving her a spiel of information as if she couldn’t navigate her way around a bedroom by herself.

“Where do you want this?” I asked, eying my dad, about to lose my patience because this fucking trunkwasheavy.

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