“I always knew you would be the death of me, Dima,” she managed to say, her voice delirious with gratification as she dragged the tips of her fingers to his mouth. “But still, didn’t you promise me forever?” Dimitri looked up at his father. His brother. Then Dimitri Fedorov looked down at Marya Antonova, watching her eyes flutter shut. Don’t you know we belong together, Masha? It’s inevitable. You might as well give in. “Don’t worry, Masha,” he said quietly, pulling her close, his hand still tight around the handle of the knife. “I would never make you go alone.”
