A Pole and a Gun

15 - Falling into you

♧ TRIXIE

Dimitri is pacing his office, on edge after the meeting with his men. He didn't sleep last night; I know this because his footsteps grew louder and angrier as the night drew on. He was waiting to hear back from them, growing impatient and constantly checking the CCTV and hidden cameras that Nox had installed in the facilities Sergei uses.

A heat sensor triggers them and starts recording when someone passes by. Well, that's what I understood from one conversation I was innocently eavesdropping on earlier. From what I can hear, every single time I pass the hallway, he is spiraling. The cursing and slamming of objects around doesn't stop.

I can't keep listening. I need to take his mind off of the shit going down; I have the perfect distraction. His men and surveillance team will let him know when they find something, so there is no reason for him to barricade himself in his office.

"What can we do, Nox?" I ask the bodyguard over a cup of coffee in the kitchen, while we both wince at another grunt from Dimitri followed by a loud smash of something hitting the ground.

"It's Sunday, he should go see Babushka," Nox answers, nodding towards the hallway. "I am pure done in," he sighs, rolling his shoulders. (I am pretty tired.)

I realize Nox has been sleeping poorly with all the commotion going on and I can't stop myself. "I'll go talk to him," I state, gliding off the stool.

"Your funeral," Nox warns me, but his sadistic smile is telling me he is happy to throw me to the lions' den, in this case, his frustrated and angry boss.

I wander down the corridor, and various scenarios sprint through my mind. I imagine a raging Dimitri holding me up against the wall by my throat for interrupting him and strangely; I don't feel fear, but arousal. What is this mafia environment doing to me?

"Dimitri?" this time, I knock gently before walking in.

I see him in an inclined position, breathing unevenly, on the oversized armchair in the corner. His eyes are downcast and in his hand is a tumbler half full of vodka while the other half is lying in puddles on the floor.

I approach carefully and crouch down so we are at eye level. I peel the glass away from his fingers while his other hand is covering his eyes, probably fighting a migraine or an early hangover.

"Trixie," he whispers, and I notice the anger in his voice subside.

"Let's go see Babushka," I offer him my hand and while I'm expecting nothing more than him to slap it away, he takes it and locks his gaze on mine.

He nods and stands up, buttoning his suit and closing his hand around my wrist. "You're coming with me."

I hurry to change into something more appropriate from the new wardrobe that Dimitri purchased; a soft pink cocktail dress to match my fake purse and I tie my hair quickly in a ponytail. Not much later, we are heading to the elevator that leads us to the garage.

Nox and I exchange a silent conversation as we pass him in the hallway. He smirks, knowing that I've been roped into this by not keeping my mouth shut for once and I flip him the bird. He erupts into laughter, and I don't have time to retaliate, because Dimitri is pulling me with him.

"Why are you taking me with you? Your two guards can make sure I don't go anywhere," I push Dimitri to talk. I don't think taking me to see his family is the best option here.

"My grandma liked you and you can keep her busy from asking stupid questions that I don't have answers to right now," he answers, looking forward and straightening his tie.

I think about his words as we walk towards the convertible and the car freak in me does a happy dance. From the moment I saw this red baby, I wanted to ride in it.

Dimitri opens my door and rounds the Ferrari to step in himself. I get in, my skin making contact with the supple leather and I inhale the new car scent, making me sigh in contentment. It earns me a small, lopsided smile from Dimitri.

We don't exchange words as Dimitri revs the engine so loudly that the roar echoes and soon we weave into the Sunday traffic. After a while, I reach for the volume on the radio because I can't take the heavy silence between us anymore.

Something sounds in the distance, and the side mirror is blown to smithereens.

"Duck!" Dimitri yells.

I'm paralyzed with fear, stuck to my seat. Dimitri doesn't flinch, only takes his gun out of his holster and turns around quickly to fire back. With my hands on the seat, I take a peek. We are being chased by a black truck, men firing at us from the loading bed.

Fear grips my chest and my knees buckle, causing me to slide down the seat into a fetal position. I'm almost kissing my knees as the sweat trickles down my neck and Dimitri focuses on the road.

"Fucking bastards," Dimitri grinds his jaw together, his knuckles whiten as his fist tighten around the steering wheel. We are sliding in and out of the almost static traffic. Dimitri is concentrating on getting away from the car chasing us, firing his gun over his shoulder. Dimitri swerves the car, firing again, desperately trying to hit their windshield and tires to slow them down.

I whimper, listening to the sound of broken glass as the rain of bullets impacts more parts of the car. When I look at Dimitri from my hiding place, I see the worry in his eyes. Our eyes lock and I can't hold back the tears.

"I'll get us out of this, hold on," he says, concentrating on the road.

He fires again, and I hear a crashing sound in the distance, followed by the screeching of tires against the tarmac. Dimitri spins the steering wheel in a rapid succession and I feel the g-force increase as we tear away so quickly from the scene.

I don't know how long he drives or where he is taking us, but I can't hear the truck anymore. I lower my head and hug my knees to my chest. Sobs break free, and I shudder, frightened of what might have happened if Dimitri wasn't prepared for this situation.

Suddenly, the car stops, and I hear Dimitri sighing deeply before his hand rests on my shoulder blades. He is making soothing movements, trying to relax me, and it works.

He grabs my chin with his hand, lifting my gaze to meet his. It's like a magnetic force that pulls me to him and in moments, I'm in his lap.

"Are you alright?"