Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I tell her. “While I wouldn’t have chosen this, I’m going to make the most of it. And I have to say, your son took very, very good care of me—even if he was pretending to be someone else.”
“I would expect nothing less from him,” she says. “He is loyal to the absolute core.” Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she adds, “Speaking of my son, I hear he’s about to arrive. My sons have decided to enact some of our old Russian traditions for old times’ sake. This is the first time in our family, you see, that a Russian is marrying another Russian.”
Oh, that’s right. Aria is American, and Harper is Italian-American, from what I’ve heard. This is the first time we have two Russian families, which means we have to pull out all the Russian tradition stops in superstition. “Now, maybe some brief introductions?” I look around at all of the people. I am so overwhelmed, but I try to remember what Harper said.
“Mom, we don’t have time,” Polina says. “Nikko’s at the door and we’re about to demand his ransom. He’s locked out.”
My mother squeezes my hand and smiles. “Oh God, that brings back so many fun memories,” she says.
He’s here.
Right outside the door.
My heart beats faster. I swallow the lump in my throat and hold my head high.
Russian tradition says that the groom has to pay a ransom, but in many cases, the ransom is completely different from what you’d expect. Something other than money or payment in order to gain access to his wife. And this all takes place before the wedding.
What will they demand from him?
Another knock sounds at the door, louder than the first.
If I’m to believe what they say… that’s my future husband.
My heart leaps in my throat, my pulse erratic and racing. I have missed him so much. I feel I can hardly breathe from the need to feel his strong arms around me again. To feel his hands in mine. To hear his deep, reassuring voice once more. We’ve been through so much. . .
I look around quickly to see who’s here.
The only woman I haven’t met yet is Aria. She has glasses perched on the edge of her nose and wild hair tucked into a bun at the nape of her neck, but some strands have escaped, curling around her face. She gives me a wink and stands by a man with golden skin who holds himself with authority. I’m assuming he’s her husband, Mikhail, the head of the family.
“Is that Nikko Romanov on the other side of the door?” Polina asks loudly to be heard through the doorway.
“It is,” he growls. Polina giggles.
“This is the first time in our generation a Russian is marrying a Russian, Nikko Romanov. Therefore, you must uphold all the Russian traditions.”
“Jesus,” we hear him curse on the other side of the door. Laughter ripples through the room.
“First, we demand a ransom. You’ve spent time with your future wife, a luxury many of us haven’t had. To earn your way in, you must answer our questions.”
“Well?” he responds.
Polina crosses her arms and winks at me. “How does she take her coffee?”
“Two creams, two sugars, no flavors. Hot and strong,” he replies.
“Hot, dark, and sweet, just like her men,” my mom whispers in my ear.
“Mom!” I say, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Polina glances at me for confirmation. I give her two thumbs up, feeling the heat on my face. “Ding, ding, ding!” she says. “First ransom paid. Now for the second question. What can you tell me about her hopes and dreams? Be specific, Mr. Romanov.”
“She dreams of working alongside Professor Morozov in Moscow. She wants to bring affordable healthcare to the masses, with a focus on medical science. She’d like to have four children, two dogs, and a home close enough to the city for easy shopping but far enough away to avoid traffic noise. She wants a front porch that overlooks the sunset.”
Even though we haven’t known each other for long, he has been remarkably attentive. In this brief period, we’ve shared moments of profound intimacy and unveiled our deepest secrets. I found myself compelled to trust him, thrust into a situation where I had no other option, and he rose to the occasion with unwavering support and understanding.
As he speaks, my vision blurs with unshed tears, a testament to the emotions swirling within me. The room around us seems to have fallen into a hushed silence, every eye fixed on this moment, amplifying the weight of his words. I swallow hard, attempting to ease the knot tightening in my throat, but the effort feels futile against the overwhelming surge of feelings.
I draw in a deep breath, hoping to steady myself, as he continues to speak, his voice a steady anchor in the emotional storm brewing around us.