His face turns red, but I don’t give him time to argue.
“I’m not signing that or anything else you put in front of me. We’ve agreed to an alliance between our organizations with the marriage of my son to your daughter. That’s the agreement. I won’t pay you a fucking dime if one of them fucks up. You have my word that Natasha will be cared for, and while the money you owe me—all one hundred million of it—will be forgiven, it’s notforgotten, Sergei. And any future money you owe me willnotbe forgiven.”
His jaw is so tight, I can hear his molars grinding together.
“Papa?”
We all glance to the doorway, and I’m pretty sure one of these fuckers just shot me in the head and I’m dead because I’m looking at a literal angel.
This woman is fuckinggorgeousin a white dress that flows just past her knees and shows off ample cleavage.Long blond hair flows in waves past her shoulders, her eyes are striking blue, the color of Kashmiri sapphires, and her glossy pink lips press in a line with uncertainty.
He’s willing to sell this beautiful woman’s soul away for a measly one hundred million?
I should kill him where he sits for even considering it.
“You wanted to see me?” Her voice is soft, and her eyes shift between her father and me with unease.
“Yes, come in, malyshka.” Sergei hardly looks at her as he waves her in. “Sit.”
“I don’t want to intrude?—”
“SIT!” he yells and slams his fist on his desk, and Natasha hurries to the chair near the one I’m in and takes a seat. Her back is perfectly straight, hands are folded in her lap, one ankle crossed behind the other, and she looks down at the floor obediently.
I’d really like to gut this asshole.
“This is Julian Stavros,” Sergei tells his daughter, gesturing to me. “I’ve arranged for a marriage.”
She gasps, her spine snaps even straighter, and those beautiful eyes turn to me. She blinks, looks me up and down, and her cheeks darken.
Interesting.
“I’m marrying him?” she asks timidly just as the door opens once more.
“Sorry I’m late.”
I sigh and don’t bother to look behind me as Elliott strolls into the room. I can smell the whiskey on him from here, and God only knows what casino he left to get here.
“Elliott,” Sergei says with a nod. “This is Natasha. Your bride.”
I haven’t taken my eyes off her. She swallows hard, a slight frown appearing between her brows.
She wants to object.
She takes her punishments.
“My what now?” Elliott asks, and I finally look up at my son. “Since when am I getting married?”
“If you’d answered any one of my calls over the past three days, this wouldn’t be news to you.” My voice is calm, because I’ll never give Sergei the satisfaction of seeing any emotion from me, but I’m going to have it out with my kid later.
Elliott blinks at me, then looks over at Natasha, and when his gaze rakes over her gorgeous body, his lips spread in a smile. I want to push him out of the way and claim her for myself.
Which is fucking ridiculous.
“I’m so sorry for my manners,” Elliott says as he holds a hand out for hers. “I’m Elliott.”
“Natasha,” she answers, eyeing his hand. She doesn’t want to touch him, it’s written all over her perfect face, but she holds her breath and slides her hand into his. “Hello.”
“Excellent,” Sergei says. “Let’s have some vodka.”
