Dimitri, catching his breath, dropped a bombshell. "I got a contract," he announced, his voice unexpectedly serious, the playful defiance gone. "Liverpool. They want me to start immediately." He looked at Anya, his blue eyes intense. "And I want you to come with me."
Anya's heart skipped a beat. Liverpool? A prestigious football club. This changes everything, she thought, a wave of surprise washing over her. She hesitated, her usual composure wavering. "I'll think about it," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Dimitri's internal monologue raced: "She'll say that. She always says that. 'I'll think about it' means nothing. She'll let it go, pretend it never happened. I need a confirmation. She's the only person in my life, the only one I care about. I can't go to Liverpool alone." He pressed further, his tone gentle but insistent. "No, Anya, you need to decide now. 'I'll think about it' means nothing. I'll be all alone there, without you." He forced a playful tone into his voice, "Think of all the lonely times with my six-pack. That wouldn't be a good idea, right?"
Anya repeated, "I'll think about it," several times, each time with increasing uncertainty in her voice. Dimitri pressed, sensing her internal struggle. She's not thinking about it; she's avoiding a decision. I need a yes or no. A commitment. She needs that confirmation to make it real. He said, with a smile, "Okay, I'll give you a day to decide. But if you don't come with me…well, I might just have to drag you kicking and screaming across the Atlantic!"
Dimitri leaned closer, his blue eyes intense, the playful facade completely gone. "Anya," he said, his voice low and serious, the words hanging heavy in the air between them, "I'll come to your apartment tomorrow. I won't ask, I won't plead. I'll simply be there. If you don't say yes—yes, to coming to Liverpool with me—I'll make you say yes. You can't avoid this, Anya. You can't escape this decision." His voice hardened, the playful facade replaced by unwavering determination. "She needs to commit. She needs to make this real. I can't let her avoid it with this 'I'll think about it' nonsense."
Anya stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. His intensity was unnerving, his determination palpable. A wave of fear mixed with a surprising surge of something else—a flicker of excitement—washed over her. He's serious. He's actually serious. And his desperation… it's strangely compelling. "He's not giving me a choice. What am I going to do?" she thought, a sense of dread tightening in her chest. She knew, deep down, that her answer was already decided, but the thought of confronting that answer and the consequences that followed was paralyzing.
Dimitri's knuckles rapped sharply against Anya's door. "She won't give in that easily," he mused, his internal monologue a mixture of anticipation and a steely determination. "I always get what I want. This is no different."
Anya opened the door, her expression guarded. Dimitri, his blue eyes intense, wasted no time. "So," he said, his voice low and serious, "what's your decision?"
Anya hesitated, her gaze drifting to the framed photographs on her wall, images of a life she might be leaving behind. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't want to leave everything…"
Dimitri scoffed inwardly. "Leave everything? She's got nothing here but debt and regret." Aloud, he said smoothly, "Anya, I'm indebted to you. I need to repay that debt. Besides, I've got this huge mansion in Liverpool, sitting empty. The thought of living there alone… it terrifies me."
Anya's internal monologue flared: "He's doing it again. The guilt trip. The manipulation. It's so transparent." Yet, despite her awareness of his tactics, a part of her—a dangerous, thrilling part—wanted to go. No, another part of her mind countered. He's clearly manipulating you. Don't fall for it.
"Okay," Anya said, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the decision heavy in the air between them. "I'll think about it."
Dimitri scoffed, his amusement evident despite his outwardly serious expression. "Oh, come on, Anya," he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. "'I'll think about it'? You don't have all day. You know I always get what I want." He then pulled out his secret weapon – a carefully crafted look of puppy-dog vulnerability, complete with wide, innocent eyes. "Please, Anya?"
Anya couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You think that look will work on me?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, despite her internal turmoil. "He's not even trying to hide it anymore," she thought, a mixture of exasperation and something akin to amusement washing over her. "The manipulative bastard."
Dimitri grinned, undeterred. "Why not? It always works," he said, his tone light, yet his eyes held a spark of unwavering determination. "She's already weakening," he thought, a surge of confidence boosting his spirits. "This will work."
Anya hesitated. "Damn it," she thought, the internal battle raging. "A part of me really wants to go. But another part knows he's playing me. But that part also wants to go." She finally spoke, a determined glint in her eyes. "Okay, fine. I'll go with you… but on one condition."
Dimitri's confidence faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Name it. Any condition," he said, his voice brimming with false bravado. "As long as she says yes."
Anya playfully slapped him on the head. "You have to respect my boundaries," she stated firmly. "And no, I'm not your personal maid. You do your own chores, and I will be there to… guide you. To scold you when you need it."