Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The last thing I wanted was for Harper to think that I was needy or pathetic – I knew that would push her away. She was attracted to how alpha I was, how striking and dominant.
I didn’t want her to think that I was nothing more than a weak little pussy.
In the end, I didn’t wind up calling her. I settled for knowing that I’d see her on Friday, for the second (and last) photoshoot that I was doing for her magazine. It wouldn’t be ideal because I wouldn’t have any time to be alone with her, but I was hoping to catch her for a bit just so that we could talk. I wanted to talk about what we were – were we exclusive?
I hoped so – it wasn’t like I’d been using protection.
Thursday, the day before the photoshoot, I was sitting at work when I heard my cell ring in my desk. Instantly, I groaned. The ringtone was the State Anthem of the Russian Federation – the ringtone I’d exclusively set aside for my parents.
“Hello?”
“Nikolai,” my father said as he called me by my full name in a deep, booming voice. “We are flying into New York on Saturday, and we expect to see you the following day.”
“I have a lot of work to do,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie – my mind had been so focused on Harper that I’d really been slacking, far more than I should have.
“Your mother and I expect you,” my father said sternly.
I sighed. My parents, despite still living in Russia, kept a brownstone in Manhattan. They only made it over here a few times per year, and usually, their visits erred on the side of disaster. The last time I’d seen them, my mother had left in tears, telling me that I had ruined her life because I wouldn’t agree to go on a date with the daughter of one of her friends.
“She is beautiful, why you not see it!” My mother had yelled.
It didn’t matter if the girl looked like Margot Robbie: I wasn’t interested in being set up with anyone my parents knew.
Or anyone Russian, for that matter.
It was a constant point of contention with my parents that they were disappointed because I was thirty-seven, unmarried, and childless. Now, every time I saw them, my mother took great delight in pointing out and pretending to cry over the appearance of silver hair at my temples.
It was almost enough to make me want to dye my hair.
“Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll be there.”
Of course, I didn’t want to go – but what choice did I have? As much as I hated it, I was their only son. And it would probably send my father over the edge if I stood up for myself and refused.
“For brunch,” my father said curtly.
“I’ll be there,” I repeated.
We hung up and I groaned, putting my face in my hands and massaging my temples with my fingers. It seemed like the only thing that could put Harper out of mind for a few moments was my parents.
And god knows I didn’t want them as a distraction. As I’d gotten older, I’d begun to wonder if everyone had as complex a relationship with their parents as I did. I loved them, of course – they’d given me life, a wealthy life in Russia that had left me accustomed to the best things on earth – but I felt that love was often tempered with something else. Resentment wasn’t quite the right word, but I couldn’t help but feel as if they expected something in return for raising me and making sure I lived a life of privilege.
It was clear what they wanted: my mother had never made a secret of that. Ever since I’d been a kid, the ideal path of my life had been crystal clear. Obtain a degree from a prestigious university? Check.
Start my own business and do well? Check.
Make a life for myself outside of my legacy? Check.
Get married and have children (or “heirs,” as my mother was fond of calling them)?
Well, that was the one thing I wasn’t so sure about. It wasn’t that I hadn’t ever seen myself settling down. But year after year had passed, and I’d always told myself that I’d get around to it later, whenever that was.
The truth was, Harper was the first and the only woman I could ever see myself settling down with and marrying. She would be a wonderful mother, but I had my doubts that she even wanted children. She’d always been such a driven career woman that I didn’t think she’d want to give that up.
And there was no way I could have asked that of her, anyway. What I loved most about Harper was her fierce independence and confidence. How could I ask her to throw that away, just to please my parents?