Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I hate to admit it, but I feel so happy now that he’s here. I try my best to hide my smile that he has returned. I like Nikolai, but without Ivan, the last place I want to be in this world is at this table.
Nikolai laughs lightly, making a joke about Ivan being possessive, but he obliges, moving to the seat on the other side of the table while the waiters quickly move his plate, glasses and cutlery for him. Ivan takes the seat next to me, his presence immediately commanding the space. I can feel the tension rolling off of him, but he doesn’t say a word, just nods briefly as a server pours him a glass of wine.
The silence between us is thick, and for the first time, I wonder if I should get involved with his affairs. Something is clearly very wrong. Should I ask him what is going on? But the words don’t come, I guess, because it is not part of our deal and he looks so forbidding I’m afraid he will tell me to fuck off and mind my own business.
Chapter Forty-Three
IVAN
As we continue to eat, I catch Lara sneaking glances at me. Each time her eyes flick towards mine, I can feel the weight of her concern, and it stirs something inside me, but the last thing I need is to have her worried about me. I don’t want my burdens to become hers. I want her to be how I found her. Innocent, sexy, kind-hearted.
"I’m fine," I say softly, glancing at her.
Her lips part slightly as if she wants to say something, but instead, she nods, her eyes dropping to her plate. I catch a glimpse of my sister Natalia watching us from across the table, her gaze sharp as she looks between the two of us. I don’t have the time or patience to figure out what her scrutiny means.
As the plates are cleared away our champagne glasses are filled and Nikolai rises, clinking his knife on his glass. He’s always liked being the center of attention, and tonight is no different. His smile is full of effortless charm, the kind that he wears when he’s about to take the spotlight.
"Everyone," he begins, his eyes sweeping over the family and the few close guests gathered, "it’s rare that we’re all together like this. So before the evening takes us away into more wine and conversation, I want to take a moment to honor someone very special."
He raises his champagne glass high. “To my stepmother, Svetlana Ivanovich, the heart of this family. Your grace, strength, and love have held us together, and tonight, we celebrate not just you, but the legacy you’ve built for us."
There’s an undeniable warmth in his words, my mother smiles graciously and the table bursts into applause. There’s a collective murmur of appreciation, heads nodding in approval as glasses are lifted and champagne is consumed. Nikolai’s gaze lingers for a moment on one of our older relatives, an uncle with a notorious reputation.
"Uncle Mikhail," Nikolai says with a smirk, "let’s try not to make it like last year, hmm? Leave some wine for the rest of us." His teasing tone brings out soft laughter from the family, and Mikhail, sitting at the far end of the table with his fifth or sixth glass of wine, stands unsteadily and bows playfully.
“Also… and before we go any further," Nikolai says with a mischievous gleam in his eye, his voice shifting to a lighter note, "I’d like to give a special welcome to someone new at our table tonight—Lara.”
At once, all eyes shift to Lara, and there’s a moment of uncomfortable silence as Nikolai, clearly relishing the moment, smiles wider. "We don’t often get the chance to have new faces here, so Lara, maybe you’d like to say a few words?”
I can feel Lara stiffen beside me, and before she can respond, I raise my hand, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. "This is a night to celebrate my mother, not my lover, Nikolai.”
The air around us changes instantly, the energy shifting with my words. Nikolai lets out a small chuckle and lowers his glass. "Of course, Ivan. I was just trying to make your guest feel welcome."
How victorious he looks now that he has got under my skin. I catch a few sidelong glances in my direction, but I don’t care. I’ve had enough of his silly little games. A subtle but palpable shift settles over the table. The remaining toasts of tribute to my mother are polite but lack the earlier ease. The ugliness between Nikolai and me has tempered the mood. The cake is wheeled out, and we all sing for my mother, the candles are blown out and the night continues.
Afterwards, we move to the patio for the cognac and cigars for the men and cake and sweet port for the women.