Dmitri

Chapter 2

Dmitri watched Elena as she moved around his office, her movements graceful and slow as she paid special attention to the wall that held all his books. As the head of the syndicate, Dmitri had no time to waste on mindless hobbies, but books were objects of knowledge, something he'd grown to appreciate over the years. Many of the books in the shelves that Elena was browzing through were first edition collectables and worth a substantial amount of money, and as he watched her fingers run lightly over the backs of the books, he realized many of them had been gifted to him by her father. 

At one point, Mikhail Lenkov had been vital to the organization, and even after his "retirement", he remained one of the most respected men within the syndicate. Mikhail's position was primarily the money-man of the organization, he kept detailed books and Dmitri never made a decision money-wise without running it past Mikhail first. It had been six years since Mikhails "official" retirement, but in their world one was never truly out until the day they died. 

Dmitri was thirty six years old, he'd been sent to New York from Moscow when he was twenty four on orders from the head of the Moscow Bratva to get the New York faction under control. He was young, yes, but he'd lived a rough life and by the time he hit twenty he had already made a name for himself, established himself as someone to watch out for among the more experienced members. 

Now as he looked at Elena, he felt a deeper respect for the man who had been his best advisor in his quest to clean up the NY faction and establish new leadership. Mikhail had been a hard man to anyone who knew him, but he kept his family protected as much as he could, and his only daughter had never been forced to live in the darkness of the shadow-world that Mikhail spent most of his life in. 

"My father gave you this," Elenas voice moved him out of his thoughts and he shifted his focus to where she was standing against the wall, a book held in both hands pressed to her chest and her eyes were on him. 

"Yes, he's given me many books over the years," he said quietly, watching her intently as her eyes drifted towards the window, but the book remained pressed to her chest, her fingers clutching it tight. 

"You should get horses," she stated seemingly out of the blue, and Dmitri said nothing in response. 

"This place would be great with horses. You have the room, enough grounds, you even have a stable that's not being used for anything. If this was my home, I'd have horses. I've always loved horses." She didn't seem to be talking to him as much as she was talking to herself, but he heard everything she said, listened to every word and she was giving him a lot. 

For days he'd twisted his mind inside-out, searching for ways to give her something that might help her begin to heal and start living her life again, now he finally had a clue. If Elena wanted horses, he'd get her horses, anything to see something but despair in those stunning eyes she possessed. 

"Lena, you need to eat something," he changed the subject even as he was planning to buy horses, Elena's body giving a small jerk at the sound of his voice and then she looked at him again, a distant expression meeting him as she did. This had become a recurring problem, her ill-will to do essential things like eat and sleep, and he was done watching her wither away in front of him when he could do something to stop it. 

Her parents funeral was two days away and it was Natalya who had taken care of most of the arrangements, Lena making the final decisions on whatever his sister deemed important, and he knew that Talya taking charge had been a big relief for Lena as she dealt with her grief. 

"Lena," he prompted when she said nothing, just stared at him, her eyes cloudy and void of life. 

"I'm not hungry," she muttered, the same answer she always gave him, but this time he refused to accept it. 

"Starving yourself is no way to honor your parents," he told her, brutal in his words because he needed to be, needed to break through and get something from her, anything at all. She flinched at his words, her face paling, throat visibly moving as she swallowed over the emotion filtering into her eyes. Finally he had a reaction that proved she was still in there. 

"I can't believe you just said that," he was surprised to hear her shift to russian, her voice barely a whisper and contorted with pain, but he realized that she had afforded him a window of opportunity and he didn't hesitate to take it. 

"Your father was a good friend to me, a good man and he married a good woman. They loved each other, and despite the way they went, they both died together knowing that. They died knowing they had a beautiful daughter that was precious to them, that they loved more than anything, and that you would go on living your life even with them gone. You feel their loss, I know that angel, and I'm doing everything I can to make it right, but you do no one any favors by starving yourself and giving up on life before you've even lived it." 

Tears were flowing down her cheeks when he finished, he saw the book shaking against her chest where she held it with trembling hands. He waited, giving her time to process his words, and held himself back from going to her. 

"He was gutted," Dmitri closed his eyes at her whispered words, raw pain in every syllable that left her mouth. "And she was..." He pushed out of his chair as she faltered, rounded his desk and made his way to her where he pulled her into his arms and pressed her face against his chest. 

A second later she gave him her entire bodyweight, his arms around her the only thing keeping her upright as a violent sob tore up her throat, hurting his ears at the painful sound. Then he stood with Elena Lenkov in his arms as she let go of the torture she'd been keeping inside for too long, and he gladly took it all. 

***

Elena

Absently I wondered if I looked as terrible as I felt. My break-down in Dmitri's home office and consequently in his arms, had drained the energy right out of me. Simultaneously it was like I'd been cleansed of everything bad that had taken root inside me since I found my parents dead, it was a great emotional relief I hadn't even realized I needed. 

The clothes that Irina and Talya had loaned me was all spread out on the king-size bed in my room, and they were this way because I'd all of a sudden realized the funeral was in two days and I had nothing to wear. 

Since Dmitri brought me to his home, I hadn't stepped outside once and had mostly walked around the house wearing pajama's or comfy clothes, which there seemed to be a lot of in my closet, but because of that I had no idea whether there was actually something in there fit for a funeral. 

No black dress or skirts, just jeans and tank tops, and I couldn't wear jeans and a tank top to my parents funeral. 

Blowing out a breath, I turned my head and looked out the window, seeing that it was still sunny outside, summer still going strong. Turning back to the clothes, I grabbed a blue and white flowerprint sundress, knee-length and strapless, it had a matching belt that quinched at the waist and it was the kind of dress my mother would have loved. She always encouraged me to wear clothes that were explicitly feminine, dresses and skirts, girly blouses and formfitting clothes in all shapes and manner. 

Tasha Lenkov had been the fashionista to beat all fashionistas and she was all about accessories, shoes and showing off all she had to offer in the best ways possible. 

I smiled a small smile for the first time in I didn't know how long as I brought the dress into the bathroom and heard my mothers voice inside my head, whole-heartedly approving in my wardrobe choice while reminding me that I had to find the perfect shoes to go with it. 

"I will mom, and if I can't find them here, I'll buy a pair," I whispered to the voice inside my head and then I took a shower, dressed and got ready to leave the house so I could buy an outfit for my parents funeral, and if Dmitri came with me, I might even let him buy me dinner.