She smirked but placed her hand into his and waited for him to kiss her knuckles before she pulled away.
Penny walked up the stairs without acknowledging him but Niko still watched as she did. “She must be tired from your travels. All of you must be. Please,” he said as he waved his hand toward the house. “Theo and James will show you all to your rooms.”
“Penny is with me,” Ma said. I hadn’t thought ahead that much, but I liked the idea of Penny not being left on her own here, especially with Niko always keeping close tabs on her as of late.
Niko shrugged and nodded to the men helping with the bags. “Whatever is most comfortable for our guests. Shall we?”
I carried my own bag and let everyone walk ahead before walking up the stone staircase and entering the huge foyer.
A large staircase led to the upper level and marbled floors led to the left and right of them.
“If you like, follow Theo and James upstairs, get settled, freshen up. Then come back down and head this way,” Niko said as he pointed to the left, “for before dinner drinks.”
Since the ladies were with us, we’d split up the ride and got a hotel on the way so it wasn’t as late as when we usually arrived.
Heading upstairs, I ignored all the artwork and focused on finding my bedroom. I wanted to put my shit down and take a piss and a hot shower. Riding for a full day didn’t ever bother me, but sleeping in a hotel, or any bed other than my own, always fucked with me.
After being shown my room and waiting for Mr. Belvedere to leave, shutting the door behind him, I walked around the room. I had a king size bed at home, but this one seemed even bigger. I wanted whatever it was. Even with my king size, my feet were at the bottom of the bed. Hopping onto this one and falling back, I groaned at the luxury.
“Christ, this is amazing.”
Looking down, there were a few inches still below my boots. Running my hands over the soft fabric of the comforter, I sat up and threw my legs back over the edge, not wanting to fuck up the fabric with dirt and oil.
Grabbing my shower kit, I headed to the bathroom and gently nodded as I looked around. It was bright. A huge garden tub was tucked in the corner with a separate shower stall, white marbled countertops, with grey and white tiled flooring, his and her sinks, a stained glass window, and plenty of overhead can lights.
The shower door was plain glass and there were three shower heads, one on each wall of the stall. Holes also lined the stall. Opening the door, I fooled around with some of the settings and water shot from the walls. Slamming the door shut, I shook the water off of me and pulled a towel from the cabinet, wiping down my leather.
“Goddamn.”
After drying my cut and finding a place to hang it, I disrobed and climbed back into the water torture device and took a very quick, very hot shower. When I was done, I figured out which button stopped the whole thing and brushed my teeth at the sink, moisturized, shaved, sprayed my favorite cologne on, then got dressed, and fixed my hair.
Looking in the mirror, I puffed out my chest as I looked at the patch over my heart. Ma had begrudgingly sewn it on before the trip.National President.
I was ready to meet my bride. But not before I made a few of my own demands.
Chapter 7
Katarina
The last few days were tense. Papa didn’t bother trying to provide an explanation of any kind. Not that he’d been around much to discuss anything. I was relieved, though. I had so many other things to worry about.
Since learning I’d be moving too far away to continue on at the restaurant, I’d spent days prepping Klara. She’d worked there a while and was only a couple of years older than me. She’d started as a hostess and worked her way up to lead server, eventually becoming shift manager. She knew the ins and outs of the place and always aligned with me when I wanted to make upgrades or changes. She also had a wonderful relationship with all the chefs and staff.
We’d scrambled to find a new pastry chef. It was going to be a tough decision. Elina and Joseph had assisted me daily and both immediately asked to interview when I announced my impending departure.
I sat in on the interviews but told her it was up to her since she would be taking my role as General Manager. Plus, if it were up to me, it would be Elina simply because she was a woman. Was that sexist of me?Oh no, using my power to help a fellow woman advance her career. Whatever will the men say?The thing was, both were highly skilled and trusted employees, so choosing the one who wouldn’t otherwise have the same opportunity to move up made more sense to me. I was born into privilege and it was the only reason I ran the restaurant. It had been Mama’s pride and joy, but to Papa it was her hobby. He didn’t care if it made money or not.
If it hadn’t been for the huge ego of the previous head chef and manager, I would still be a server. But they weren’t part of Papa’s real business and when they demanded I be thrown out of their kitchen for trying to make improvements, he made quick work of removing them, especially after they threw insults at my mother’s memory.
More reasons to not trust men. When she was alive and running the place, they were warm and smiled in her face. The second they were questioned by a girl still in culinary school about the financials and vendors, their true feelings came out. So while I may use my privilege to lift up women, it’s only because I have been surrounded by men with too much power and more ego than brains my whole life.
“Miss Petrov, the car is ready,” my driver, Alek, reminded me for the second time. He wore a plain black suit, the standardfor Papa’s men. He was tall, square-jawed, and kept his short, dirty blond hair perfectly combed. He was a handsome man, but very uptight.
Gathering my bag, I straightened my sticky notes next to my keyboard. “Klara, I have a dinner at home to attend. I’m off for the night but the order is done and the specials for the next two weeks are saved. I didn’t finish the schedule because I had–”
“Please go so he can stop brooding over us,” Klara interrupted, though she was grinning as her cognac eyes sparkled. Her chestnut hair was swept up into a neat bun at her crown. Forever a ballerina. Her stature and posture were that of a professional dancer. Sadly, she suffered a career-ending injury. Instead of becoming an instructor or staying in some other role with the field, she left it behind completely. It made her too sad to be near what she thought her life would be, watching from the sidelines. She and I had become great friends. She was my best friend.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” I said before pecking her cheek then following Alek outside to the black, armored SUV. I’d called her in the throes of a breakdown after I blew off steam in the training room the night Papa told me I’d be marrying some biker person. Then she had to listen to me go on about it for days.
