“In fact, I believe I heard Evelina speaking with Mother Markov only yesterday. A fat, amiable Russian from the old country. Preferably one with birthing hips.” He spoke with a straight face, not a hint of a joke in his tone and my heart skipped a beat.
Alexander threw back his head and, yet again, gave a riotous laugh at my expense.
“Oh, Brother. You should see your face.” He walked over to his father and laughed again. “Father, you’re going to give him a heart attack.”
“What?” Eduard straightened his posture, brushing his hands down his suit to shake out any wrinkles--there were none, as his suit was insanely expensive and made to never look disheveled. “I only told him the truth. If he doesn’t believe me, he can call his mother.” He pointed his gaze at me, mouth turned down in a slight frown. “She says you haven’t called her in weeks, Nikolai. That is not how you were raised.”
The Bratva King shook his head in disapproval and then walked past me towards the exit. He opened the door, and was immediately greeted by two soldiers who led his way out of the resort building.
“He can’t be serious.” I gaped after him, too stunned to move.
“You should have expected it, Nik. They’re making Katya meet several suitors while we’re on vacation. They’re not going to let this slide. I thought my wedding might give you more time, but…” Alexander’s voice trailed off and he shrugged.
We walked out of the room, lapsing into silence for a bit, before something Eduard and Alex said registered in my brain.
“Hey, why is Katya busy tomorrow?”
“Like I said, they’ve got her meeting a few potential husbands.”
Goddammit.The fury that flared inside of me was uncontrollable. It made me clench my fists and stop walking. Thinking back, I had overheard something of the sort on the plane… but I hadn’t understood. Not then.
Alexander didn’t notice my reaction. Which was good, because I didn’t want to explain why the mention of Katya meeting possible husbands made me want to punch a wall. I couldn’t explain it myself. But it did.
And I couldn’t put out the fire,no matter how hard I tried.
Chapter Twelve
Katya
The third glass of champagne was always my favorite.
The first and the second always made my tongue tingle too much and I had to strain to stop myself from grimacing. Champagne was my mother’s drink, not mine. She insisted I drink it because, in her words, aladyalways drank champagne. Little did she know that I hadn’t been a lady in a really long time.
It was bratty and childish, but I wouldn’t apologize for who I was. Alexander never did so why should I? They say it’s a man’s world, but I refused to believe that. At least I had until recently. My moody, defiant days were over, and I was being forced to meet potential suitors tomorrow.
I sipped my champagne, grimacing against the taste and wishing that it was a cocktail with some stupid name. If I could down each glass quickly, pushing into the buzz of alcohol faster, then it wouldn’t be so miserable. But aladyalso didn’t toss back champagne like cheap beer. So, under Mother’s watchful gaze, it was taking far too long to get to the third glass this evening.
“You’re very quiet tonight, Katya,” Mother noted, and I nodded in agreement. Mother, Marisha and I were seated in the restaurant lounge, waiting on the men to arrive so we could go and eat.
I was dressed in a long blue dress with a dangerously high slit and my heavy cleavage on show because I’d been told to wear something classy and appealing. Mother should have known better than to try and tell me how to dress. Whenever she attempted to control my wardrobe, I immediately defied her. You’d think she’d learn.
“I was debating what to wear tomorrow,” I replied coyly. “You know, when I meet my potential suitors.”
“Something more demure than what you’re currently wearing, please,” she replied immediately, and when I glanced over, she was eyeing the thigh high split in my dress and I smiled, satisfied that the gown had done its job. “You’re very beautiful, Katya, and you know it. Let’s try and keep some of your finer details hidden until your wedding night, shall we?”
As she spoke, my smile faltered and hers grew. She knew how to poke at my tender spots. I didn’t give her enough credit sometimes.
Score one for my mother.
“Perhaps Marisha can give you some fashion advice?” she suggested, and I wasn’t sure who was more embarrassed, Marisha or me.
“Oh, I think Katya has much better style than me,” Marisha rushed to fill the accompanying silence, her cheeks flushing red. “Excuse me,” she said quickly, obviously uncomfortable, “I believe I need the ladies’ room before Alex arrives.”
Honestly, I’d never seen someone retreat so fast.
But now that my mother and I were alone, even for only a few moments, I didn’t believe I could hold my tongue any longer. Not that I’d ever been very good at keeping my opinions to myself.
“You are stuck in the old ways, Mother.” I played with the stem of the champagne glass, my buzz wearing off, and my wish for something stronger to drink teasing the corner of my senses. One glass of scotch was worth a dozen glasses of Mother’s weak bubbly.
