Dimitri's point of View I’ve always known my father didn’t trust me.It was there in the way he looked at me when I entered a room, his gaze sharp and measuring, as if he were waiting for me to prove him right that I was weak, that I would crack under pressure, that I wasn’t fit to carry the Dimitrov name. I had spent years masking every trace of doubt, every flicker of hesitation. But lately, I could feel the mask slipping.Because of her.Missy.I told myself she was just a distraction. A pawn in a larger game. Another piece on the board that my father wanted moved, manipulated, destroyed if necessary. But the more I saw her the fire in her eyes, the defiance that slipped through even when she tried to hide it the more I felt that noose tighten around my own neck.And my father noticed.He always noticed.At dinner the night before, he had leaned across the table, his voice calm but laced with threat.“The Montoyas are growing too bold. Their little princess Mark’s sister needs
Missy's point of View Dimitri’s words would not leave me.The next move they make, it won’t just be against your family. It’ll be against you.That sentence had sunk into my chest like a shard of glass. Every breath I took pressed against it, every moment of silence reminded me it was there. Even when I forced a smile during training, even when I sat with Sienna at the edge of the courtyard, laughing at things that weren’t really funny, it was there.I thought I could ignore it, bury it the way I’d buried a thousand other things. But at night, when everything went quiet, his voice came back. Dimitri. The rival heir who should’ve been nothing to me, who I should’ve hated, who somehow managed to sound like both a threat and a shield in the same breath.I told no one at first. Not because I trusted him but because I didn’t trust myself.But keeping a secret in this house was like trying to hold smoke in your bare hands. Nico noticed.He always noticed.The first time he cornered me a
Dimitri’s POVIt had been days since the warehouse meeting, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about her.Missy.Her name burned through me like whiskey. The way she held herself, even under the sharp weight of her father’s presence, had been intriguing. Most heirs cracked under the eyes of men like ours. They bent, they flinched, they tried too hard to prove they belonged. But not her. She stood tall, quiet, almost unreadable, except for the flicker in her gaze when I’d spoken to her directly. She tried to hide it, but I saw it. That moment of hesitation. That pulse of curiosity.And I wanted more of it.Which was dangerous.Because she wasn’t just another girl I could charm and discard. She was the daughter of a rival I wasn’t supposed to touch, the sister of a man who already hated me by blood. Every logical part of me knew I should have left her alone. Walk away. Forget her face. Focus on the war that was brewing between our families.But logic didn’t mean shit when it came to her
Missy’s POVI hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about him.Every time I closed my eyes, his face was there—those sharp eyes, so dark and unreadable, yet soft in fleeting moments I wasn’t supposed to notice. Dimitri. The name itself felt dangerous, like whispering a curse in the middle of the night. I should’ve erased him from my thoughts the second the ambush was over. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t an ally. He was a rival, a threat, someone my brother warned me about again and again.And still…When I tried to focus during training, the sound of gunfire echoing through the yard, I caught myself imagining his voice instead of my instructor’s. When I sparred with one of Father’s men, I thought of the way Dimitri had moved in the chaos quick, precise, like violence was second nature to him.The worst part was remembering the way he’d grabbed my arm that night, pulling me out of the line of fire. His hand had been steady, firm, not desperate like most men caught in danger. He wasn’t
Mark’s POV I could tell the difference in my sister’s eyes.Missy had always been transparent to me too transparent for the kind of world we lived in. I used to tease her about it, telling her that one day her softness would get her in trouble, that one wrong smile could give someone all the leverage they needed. She’d roll her eyes, call me paranoid, then go right back to daydreaming about her books or whatever else was safer than the life we were born into.But lately she wasn’t the same.I noticed it first in the way she lingered by the window, staring at nothing for too long. Then in the way her answers grew shorter, like her mind was carrying on two conversations at once one with me, one with herself. After the ambush, that distraction only deepened. She looked shaken, yes, but also torn. Torn in a way that unsettled me.I didn’t like it.I didn’t like the way her shoulders tensed whenever I mentioned Dimitri.Dimitri.Even the sound of his name grated against my chest. The
Dimitri’s point of View The night air outside Missy’s family estate was heavy, thick with the scent of iron gates, oil lamps, and power that stretched too far into the city.Dimitri adjusted his cufflinks as he walked back to his car, but his mind wasn’t on appearances. It was on her. Missy. The fire of the ambush still lived in his veins, but not because of the danger. It was the way she had looked at him in the chaos eyes wide, lips parted, torn between fear and determination. She hadn’t flinched when the bullets rained. She had fought. That alone separated her from the others he’d been forced to smile at in his world of heirs and bloodlines. And tonight, she had confirmed what he already suspected. She felt it too. The pull. He slid into the back seat of his black sedan, his driver silent and tense. “Drive,” Dimitri ordered, his voice low. But instead of heading home, he leaned against the window, watching the estate grow smaller in the distance. He had entered their ter