Thirteen

DIMITRI'S POV:

I took the elevator straight to the last floor of our mansion and literally jumped out immediately as the compartment doors dinged and slithered open.

I tried to regain my cool as I walked up to the door and entered the password. Immediately I stepped in, I found Yvvette my house keeper. She had just stepped in to the room from the kitchen at the same time, she halted the moment she saw me and gave a small bow.

Which I didn't bother acknowledging.

“Where's my wife?” I asked coldly.

“She’s still upstairs locked in her room.” She replied simply, not daring to meet my gaze.

I swallowed the anger tightening in my chest and glared at her.

 “Have you given her anything to eat?”

She shook her head. “No sir, I just sent some food upstairs not quite long. She hasn’t touched anything or even opened up even once.”

A vein twitched in my arms. “You're dismissed.” I said, before turning to the stairs. Ignoring her completely.

There was only one thing that mattered now. I had to ensure Elena was safe. Not just because I was afraid of the Tataglia's wrath— which wasn't anything to be scared of anyway.

But because no other woman was allowed to die under my roof. Not in my room.

I took the stairs, two at a time. Reached the door in few minutes. Several food carts had been lined up at the door and two maids stood just outside it, both knocking and pleading.

I walked over to them, eyes trained on the door and said coldly. “Take everything out.”

They jumped with a start at my sudden appearance and quickly turned abruptly, grabbed the food carts and scurried out of sight.

Now I was left alone with the door.

I drew closer, dragged in one sharp breath before my fist connected on the panel.

“Open up, Elena.” 

No reply.

“I'm going to break this door if you don't!” I threatened, hammering harder on the door, the metal frame shuddered and creaked on impact.

But I kept knocking and calling.

Three minutes later, I'd already lost my mind from knocking. I began kicking at the door and shouting for her to open up and only stopped when I felt my voice start getting hoarse.

Anger surged through me, blinding my thoughts and every stupid reasoning and the next second. I was fishing out my gun from the holster and pointing it at the door handle.

“I'm going to shoot this door open, if you don't get up to open and you can get hurt you know. I mean you can get badly hurt, since I'd be shooting blindly.” I threatened.

No movements still.

My brows furrowed, I raised the gun up and aimed at the door. “I'll count to three Elena!” I growled.

No answer still. My rage stilled.

Was she still alright in there? 

Did her mother sneak her out or something?

I twisted abruptly, turning from the door. “Yvvette, get in here!” I called, my voice shaking with anger.

A minute later, Yvvette rushed towards me panting profusely.

I threw the question at her, straight up at once. “Did Mrs. Tattaglia step out with my wife?”

She shook her head. “No sir— I saw her leave.”

I breathed a sigh, relief flooding through me all of a sudden.

I turned back to the door, knocking harder. “Elena please open the door, we need to talk.”

A disturbing silence greeted me back.

This was it, I drew back and uncocked my gun. “I'm going to count to three, Elena.”

I heard Yvvette hold her breath behind me.

“One.”

I aimed at the keyhole, my pulse kicking nonstop.

“Two.”

My finger curled round the trigger, the cold metal syncing with my finger.

“Three.”

The lock clicked. I lowered the gun, just a minute before the door swung open.

I gaped at the woman staring back at me with disbelieving eyes.

“What the hell happened to you.” I said reaching out to her, but she flinched. Inching away from my touch. I grabbed her still and pinned her against myself hugging her against her will.

She weeped into my chest, biting into my cloth, into my skin. The pain stung so hard, but I held her still. Not letting go.

We stood like that for several minutes before she finally calmed and I had to let her go.

“What have you been crying about Elena?” I asked, staring down at her. I was some good six feet taller and she was five nothing.

She kept quiet, head lowered and back leaning against the door frame.

She wasn't going to answer.

I turned to Yvvette. “Go clean her up and bring her some food.”

“Yessir.” She bowed and made to leave

I turned again, hot air hit me straight in the face as the door slammed again. The lock clicked the next minute.

“Fuck!”

My knuckles connected with the door again. “Open up!”

But she never did open up again. Not the next morning or even two days later.

I called her mother again. Although I hated to have the lady around. I needed to reach her daughter. 

She was my wife. Legally bound to me. How could she not want to see me.

“How's she?” I asked Sofia, during breakfast four days later.

She lowered the sandwich she had been getting ready to feast on and glared at me, like I'd just said the most unpleasant statement ever.

But I didn't care what she thought anyway, I met her gaze with a bored, unimpressed expression until she dropped the glare and actually spoke.

“She doesn't want to see you.”

“That's not what I asked.” I snapped.

“I don't think you deserve to know whether she's fine or not?”

“And why do you get to decide that?”

She dropped the sandwich and reverted to her fullscale glare which I was already so fucking used to.

“I'm her mother, I decide what's best for her.”

“I'm her husband.” I said slowly, coldly meeting her gaze. A dangerous glint in my eyes.

She swallowed. “You might be her husband, but she doesn't want to see you.”

I pushed back my seat and stood up.”You know what, I think I need to see her right now.”

She jumped up— “You can't do that!”

But one cold look from me silenced her, she dropped lamely in to her seat. While I marched from the dinning room. climbed up the stairs and made it to the door.

Our bedroom door— the same fucking place I'd been locked out from for almost an entire week.

I didn't bother knocking, my hands gripped the door handle and I pushed it backwards. It gave in easily, for the first time in a long while.

I stepped in to the room. The smell of bathing shampoo and strawberry hit me straight in the face, the very moment I entered the room. 

Water was rushing in the bathroom. The bed was made, the whole room looked different. I walked to the drawer and took out my favorite cigarette before walking to the window. The view from here overlooked the bustling city— the lights and works of Chicago. I stood there watching and tapping the tip of an unlit cigarette against my lip, when the bathroom door clicked.

I turned around abruptly, our eyes met almost immediately and she gasped, a minute before her hands flew to cover her body— except she couldn't.

My gaze was firmly locked on her naked body, every inch of it.

Every instinct wanted me to cross that room and for the first time in my life, I didn't trust my own instincts.