Part 2: Chapter 3

Arya

Dimitri Volkov. It sounds weird, but I have dreamt of this guy with the silver eyes before. Everything about him seems familiar and warm, like sunshine after a rainstorm. I didn’t want to act like a brat, I wanted to talk to him more, but then the pity replaced the amusement in his eyes and I backed off.

The pity always pops up, and I hate it.

Why did he have to be there? Why did he have to save my life when I was just about to end it? Of all people, it had to be the beautiful man who plagued my dreams when the nights got bad. He’s cocky as shit and when he grabbed my arm, I nearly jumped at the warmth of his touch.

My mind drifts to him even as my father is shouting at me for making him worry and the whisky on his breath is palpable. I allow him to get out his anger and worry; he’s the only one who cares about me anyway.

Besides being Russian Mafia, who is Dimitri Volkov?

That’s when I remember something and turn to my father who is leading me inside the mansion.

“What did you