Ten

DIMITRI'S POV:

“Breakfast is ready.” I announced coldly to the women, disrupting whatever conversation they were having. The Mother's head snapped around at once, like I had said something so abysmally wrong.

I ignored her glare and locked my eyes on the daughter, who shifted uneasily under my stare, drooping her head low. “We're coming.” She muttered in a small voice but loud enough for me to hear.

My eyes turned intense on her, brows knitting together and a frown weaving its way to my face.

“I want you to join me now!” I said flatly, leaving no room for negotiation. Elena's head jerked up and our eyes met briefly, she shivered — looked at her mother for help, which only made a wicked smile crawl up my throat.

That's too sad little wife, mummy wouldn't be coming to your rescue any more.

I walked over to them, closing the distance between us in just few strides and before they knew or could even do anything about it, I was standing in front of them— holding an inviting hand out to my wife while totally dismissing the ferocity in Mrs. Tataglia’s eyes.

“Come on now, wife.” I growled impatiently, her face turned pale instantly, eyes fluttering to mother for rescue again, well that was a little too late since I didn't even give her the chance to decide on that. I bent low and took her hands in mine, carefully before firm enough to pull her to her feet, despite her flinching and the wide panic in her eyes.

I left her hands and slid my hands round her waist, pulling her firmly against me. She stiffened self-consciously, eyes widening. I could even hear her heartbeat suddenly tripled.

Can you fucking relax! And also tell your mom to stop glaring at me like that huh!

“Are you joining us or not Minerva?” I asked finally, turning to give Mrs. Tataglia a stare, returning her glare with an equal cold smile— not at all inviting.

“It's Sofia.” She snapped, her tone icily cold and infuriated.

My eyes met hers in a challenging defiance. “Right, Sofia?”

That seemed to do it, she snapped to her feet immediately eyeing me daggers nonstop and squaring her shoulders in. I chuckled.

Safe for me, this woman would never fucking be in my house. Oh, fuck Romero! for this shitty idea to invite the she devil over to talk some sense into her daughter— but from the looks of it, she might as well even be doing the opposite.

“I'll be more than glad to, Mr. Dimitri after all we're family now.”

Oh, yeah! Nice glare though.

“Suit yourself then.” I said simply and pulled my stiff wife, literally dragging her to the dinning room. She might well have been just a porcelain doll from the looks of it.

We entered the dinning room and I had to literally force Elena down into a seat, before turning around to take a seat myself. The mother sat at the opposite end of my table, glaring daggers at me still.

Good thing, she had no guns in those eyes.

Immediately we sat down, the house staffs rushed to serve breakfast. Elena and her mother kept chattering nonstop while trying to ignore my presence as best as they could all through breakfast.

Seizing a lull, in their conversation, I set down my cutlery and turn to my wife, who literally stiffened at my glance, the color draining out of her face.

“Elena, I have something to discuss with you.” I began calmly.

She shifted uncomfortably, squirming inaudibly in her chair— her eyes rushing to her mom's again.

“Can you stop doing that!” I snapped angrily, my tone rising. She jumped up startled, knocking off her glass of juice all over the place. Spilling enough on herself to get her off the table.

I sighed and looked away, shaking my head.

“What did you do that for?” The mother snapped, her face dark with fury.

I ignored her and signalled the servants who came to lead her out of the dinning room, to clean her up.

“Dimitri, I'm talking to you.”

Why was she so determined to get on my nerves.

I dropped my cutlery back with a sudden click and turned on her, my anger in full swing, melting her earlier glare away as fast as water soaking through paper.

“I wouldn't tolerate any further interference, woman, you were brought here to do just one job and not to start a mini war with me. And if you think you're not capable of doing that job..” I paused signaling one of the waiting servants to bring me the telephone. “Then I'll have no choice than to ring up your husband to get you back to town immediately.”

At the mention of calling her husband, the defiant demeanor she'd held all along crumbled, she reached for her glass with shaky hands and downed the entire content.

Just as the servant returned and placed the telephone in front of me, I reached for it and snatched it off the cradle, while watching her. “So what do you say?” I continued. “Do I make the call?”

She swallowed, her face turning ashen as though she had just been fed the most unpleasant meal ever.

At her silence, I began punching a number in to the keypad. Her mouth snapped right open. “I'll do it, alright. I'll do it— don't call him please.”

A small smile curled up my lips. “I'm glad, we have an understanding, Mrs. Tataglia.”

“It's Sofia.” She said in a voice fighting to maintain calmness.

I nodded, picking back my cutlery and returning to the meal as though there had never been an interruption.

Three minutes later, I looked at one of the servants. “Where's Elena?” I asked.

“She's up in the bedroom, she didn't want anyone going in there with her.”

I frowned, pushing off my seat and wiping my hands and mouth with a napkin.

“What the hell is she doing there?”

“I don't know sir, but we heard sobs as though someone was crying inside.”

I frowned, my gaze turning cold. “Sobs, you say?”

The servant swallowed uneasily and nodded curtly.

I clenched my fist, folding the napkin into a ball in my grip. The mother shot up. “I'll go get her.”

She made to leave the table, I snarled. “No, you stay.”

I tossed the napkin into a trash can and made my way back upstairs to the bedroom. The sobs were audible enough from the hallway, filling the entire space and re-echoing in my chest with a constant ring to it.

I slammed a fist on the door. Once, twice, thrice. No fucking reply.

“Open up, Elena.” I growled.

Still no reply.

I knocked again, harder and louder than before. My fist constantly thudding against the door at an uneven rhythm.

“Don't make me break this door open, open up right now.”

Still no reply, more sobbing. Louder sobbing.

I frowned, slammed another knock into the door.

The sound of water rushing in the bathroom came through the door.

“Elena!” I growled. “Open up. Come on!”

I drew back. “Alright then, suit yourself.”

I turned away, my footsteps receding behind me.

The sound followed me down the hallway. I had heard crying like that once before in my life. I was eleven years old and standing outside my mother's door.