7. A year to comply

~Dimitri~

Since his youth, he'd learnt to stop wishing for things, because they won’t come true. He grew up and made things happen on his own. So knowing that, how come he found himself staring at the house he'd just stepped out from, wishing that what's happening behind the closed door is not what he's thinking.

Dimitri showed no reaction. His face didn't give away the chaos on his mind as he leaned against his car opposite Vincent's house. He waited, and waited and each minute moved agonisingly slow until the door opened and a disheveled Elora descended the stairs, huffing, and using her hands to smoothen her hair.

When she reached the feet of the stairs, her gaze moved to the man leaning on a car across the street. Her eyes widened before she clenched her teeth and marched towards him seething.

“You! Who are you?”

Dimitri raised an elegant eyebrow, his lips twitching as he moved his hand from under his chin and dipped it into his pocket.

“You don't want to know.” He stated.

Elora assessed him with a scrutinizing glare, her petite figure barely containing her attitude. “Stay away from my fiancé.”

Dimitri tilted his head, his own cold eyes assessing the little creature before him. To him, it's too early into the night to have a sour mood. “And what if I don't?”

“I don't want to be charged for murder.” Elora spitted which made Dimitri let out a low chuckle.

“Insecure much?”

If Elora was red in anger before, now, she was simply about to combust as she clutched her red gown, her knuckles turning ashen.

“Stay. A. Way.”

With that, she turned her back to Dimitri and crossed the road to her own car before speeding off.

Dimitri spared the little apartment a last glance, contemplating, on going back in and starting what's on his mind but he shook his head and entered his car, speeding off.

He knew he still has to confront Grandpa Santini. Leaving the old man hanging always gave him more trouble than he want and he knew better than to take a detour route to his apartment. So, he changed course to the direction of his parents’ mansion; the last place he wanted to be and where Grandpa Santini always stay anytime he visits the state.

The large metal gates swung open and after driving deeper for what felt like hours, he finally arrived at the mansion. He exited and threw the key to another young man to park.

“Welcome pakhan.”

Dimitri nodded, not sparing him a glance as he stepped further into the mansion. A young maid rushed towards him and took off his coat with her gaze fixed on the floor.

The whole place screams of wealth and grandeur with glowing golden chandeliers. At the center of the mansion, there are white couches placed aesthetically on a gray rug and there's a sweeping golden staircase with a red carpet on it at the back. On one of the White couch sat and old man with white air that has specs of black. His frail hand held a walking stick that was leaned on the chair. Behind him stood two lady in black and white maid uniform and a gaunt man in casual clothings.

When Dimitri reached the centre of the mansion where the old man sat, he bowed. “Night, sweet grandpa.” He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm since grandpa Santini is nothing near sweet. “I see that you are already expecting me.”

The old man shook his head in disappointment and pointed his stick to the chair opposite him. “Take a seat you punk.”

Dimitri lips twitched, his steps faltering for a while before he decided to do as the old man had said. He sat down with a soft thud and placed his right feet on his left thigh.

“Wassup.” He asked.

“What happened to Ava?”

Dimitri sighed, lifting his feet so he can lean forward. He clasped his fingers together between his thighs. “You heard I was detained, charged to court, and set free right?”

The old man nodded. “But at the same time, you can easily go scot-free which is why I need to know what happened to her personally.”

“Just so you know, the court didn't find me guilty, so I was set free.” Dimitri paused, as if wanting the words to sink in. “And… do you want to know so that you can have another arranged marriage waiting at my door?”

Grandpa Santini coughed and one the maids behind him hurriedly passed a cup of black herb to him. He took a sip and passed it back to the maid who collected it and went back to standing like a statue.

He shifted his attention back to Dimitri. “I'm doing that for you, you punk!” He croaked.

Dimitri sighed. He'd lost count of how many times they have to go through this conversation. “I'm gay, sweet grandpa.

“Hi gay, nice to meet you.”

The second maid that's not holding a cup bit her lip, as if trying to supress a laughter. Dimitri only scoffed and tried to change the subject. He knew he didn't want to win against the old man since it would only stress his frail heart and increase the number of drugs he does use, which is why he'd surrendered and tried to change the subject. “Why are you here?”

“The Bianchi family had been disturbing me for the past one week. I need to rest and find another wife for my heir who's slowly becoming vintage all in the name of ‘gay’ which is a fake world introduced by—”

“You know nothing will change my mind right?”

“You. Will. Do. As. I. Say.”

Dimitri stood up. “Wrong choice of words sweet grandpa.”

Grandpa Santini gritted his teeth and stood up on wobbly feet, leaning on his cane for support. “Dimi–”

“ —Hi son.”

A voice sounded from the foot of the stairs which made Dimitri and grandpa Santini's focus shift to it. The man on the foot of the stairs is in pristine white shirt and black pants which seemed to have been specially made for him. His hand is dipped in his pocket and his hair looked tousled. He looked like a much older version of Dimitri.

Dimitri's fingers clenched beside him but his face didn't betray any emotion. He shifted his gaze back to Grandpa Santini and bowed. “I will take my leave now.”

Then, he turned back, ready to leave the mansion which held all his darkest childhood memories, the dark ones had tainted the good ones. But his father's voice broke through the air, halting him for a moment.

“A year. You only have a year, unelse, the empire will be passed to Ivan.”

Dimitri gritted his teeth but didn't turn, instead, his strides turned wider as he exited the mansion and back to his waiting car.