Page 19 of Inked in Devotion

“Do not bring my son into this,” Theo snarled.

“Gentlemen,” Eliza censured. “That was uncalled for, Mr. Zahkarov. But I’ve heard enough and come to a decision.”

Did everyone hold their breath, or was it just me?

“Mr. Petrov, for Miss King’s peace of mind and since you live separately, you will call her to schedule your visits and not simply show up or enter the residence without invitation.”

Oh, Kolya didn’t like that at all. His face morphed into angry lines. “I’m not knocking on a door to see my son.”

“At this early stage, requesting a key to Miss King’s apartment is unreasonable.” Dr. Hawthorne ignored his outburst, launching straight to her verdict. “So, here are the rules:

Supervised visitation for Mr. Petrov.

No unscheduled contact and no unscheduled appearance at Miss King’s residence.

No removal of child without consent. An email or text exchange would suffice.

Both of you will submit to a home environment screening.”

“Is that necessary for Chloe?” Theo interjected. “I understand for Mr. Petrov—we certainly don’t want guns and knives lying around.”

Kolya scratched the side of his jaw to give Theo the middle finger.

“That’s fine,” I blurted. “We’ve done this at Dora’s women’s shelter. It serves the welfare of the child. I have nothing to hide.”

“Good. I’ll schedule an arbitration review in three months. DNA tests to be scheduled within ten days under Marriage Ink custody. And lastly, no intimidation or implied threat.”

Her eyes scanned the room. “Questions?”

The Zahkarov camp didn’t look happy, but nobody spoke.

One second, two seconds.

“This session is adjourned.”

Margo Winthrop was waiting for me when we exited the conference room. I recognized her from the rare online articles I’d found about her after Theo offered me options to further protect Sebastian. Her company, Marriage Ink, was more an institution than a corporation. She was known in secret circles as the matchmaker, the securer of alliances for the wealthy and powerful.

A position handed down for generations.

“Miss King, we haven’t met,” Margo said in a businesslike tone. And though it appeared bland, I sensed a calculating gleam in her eyes, like she was assessing an asset and its worth. Still, unlike the arbiter, who you could immediately tell meant no-nonsense business, Margo appeared more fluid, a mystery in her powder-blue capped-sleeve sheath dress and a voluminous French twist. She topped off the elegant look with a string of large pearls around her neck.

“Good to meet you,” I croaked, suddenly nervous because I was feeling Kolya’s glare in our direction.

The handshake was firm, and I was thankful there were no fake hugs.

“What the hell is this?” Kolya stalked toward us. A look of betrayal was written all over his face. Then he spun on Theo. “You’re already marrying her off?”

“I gave her options,” Theo replied coolly. “I couldn’t say the same about you.”

“You said you’re not marrying me,” he said. “Is it just me in particular?”

How dare he made it sound like I was the bad person here. “Best you could offer me was housing. And I have no doubt you can support me financially. I can do that on my own without the strings attached to it.”

“You should have informed me first,” he snapped.

“Why? It’s none of your business who I marry,” I shot back. It really wasn’t. Who I chose to marry didn’t have a bearing as to who my son’s father was.

“My son. My business,” he growled. “Don’t make me hate you, Chloe. You don’t want me as your enemy.”