VOLKO

Chapter Fifteen

Ten minutes later I wondered about the halls praying my memory would remember the way back to civilization, or I'd be forced to spend eternity in Dimitri's company. Which wouldn't have been too bad if he didn't insist on walking so close behind me, I could feel his warmth on my back.

"I think my father is putting me to the test. I really have no idea who any of these people are, no matter how many times Jake tells me." I said truthfully.

"I've heard of most of them myself. Albert, he's your... great grandfather I believe?" Dimitri looked to me for clarification, clearly expecting me to know more than I let on.

"Maybe." I half laughed to cover up for my lack of knowledge.

"He came to America from Italy. Although married only once and to his death, it's said he has many bastards hanging around. But none powerful enough to claim the crown from your grandfather."

"The crown?"

"Houses, money and such." Dimitri carried on past me, surprisingly he knew my family history well. Each painting had its own story and Dimitri knew them all.

When Jake had told them, half the details were missing, he'd rushed past the painting without much thought. Now I felt glad Robert had forced me to give the tour, Dimitri spent his time going over each one. His company was becoming bearable.

As we neared the end of the hall a smaller painting of a young boy caught my attention. I imagined Dean when Dimitri's family took him in. I'd never gotten on with my mu- Helen, but I wouldn't know what would have happened to me if I'd suddenly found myself alone.

Dean's tough love seemed a lot more relatable now. He'd had to get through something that can make or break you. With Dean, he'd been made.

"It was kind of your family to take Dean in, I didn't know that. He rarely speaks of his childhood." I found myself saying.

"He rarely speaks at all. But let's not talk of Dean. I'd much rather talk about you." Dimitri was right, Dean didn't speak often. Maybe that's why people listened when he did? Dean refused to waste his time on trivial shit.

"Not much to say really." Stretching out a hand to touch the face of the boy in the painting. He stood alone in a field with tears brimming to escape. Why my father had such a sombre piece of art was beyond me. Did it remind him of Dean as well?

So lost in thought, I failed to see Dimitris's extended hand until I found it enclosed around mine. In a blink I had been pulled into his chest. Resisting, I tried to pull away but his hands were like steel, trapping me.

"Are you always this modest?"

"I think we should head back downstairs." The small smile I offered didn't ease the panic rising inside.

"Where's the fun in that?" Before his words really registered I was pushed into darkness, landing painfully on my knees.

With my hands out in front of me I tapped around me hoping to find something to tell me where I was. My heart pounded in my chest, as I tried to remain calm.

Slowly my eyes began to adjust to the low lighting with the help of the moon shining through the window.

A bedroom. One yet to be refurbished by the look of things, the floor cracked with each step I took. I noticed a fine line of light coming from around the shut door I'd just been pushed through.

A figure I knew to be Dimitri stepped in front of it, from the moon light I could just about make out the smile that graced his lips. He took one step forward, I took one back. The deadly silence made the pumping in my ears so much louder.