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)
The wine flows, and food is passed around, but there’s a subtle tension in the room. My mother and Zofia are getting along fine, but Mikhail sits brooding, watching everything, as it’s his job as the patriarch of the family to keep everything in order. Finally, at the end of the meal, he speaks up.
“I’d like a word, please,” he says. “There are a few who don’t know me. I speak frankly, and everything I’m about to say is for the benefit of both families. We can’t pretend certain events haven’t happened, but we need to ensure we’re all on the same page.”
Vera’s mother nods.
“If you’d like, you can record this or conference them in.”
“It’s too late for that,” her mother replies, “but thank you. May I record you?”
Mikhail agrees.
Everyone is on their best behavior, but we still need to address the underlying tension.
Mikhail begins. “We all know that Nikko was on a mission. He was directed to go by me. I had him pretend to be Markov for a good reason. We learned that the late Petr Ivanov had called for the execution of Harper Bianchi—Harper Romanov—and nearly killed my pregnant wife in the process.”
My mother pales.
“Furthermore, under more of his orders, my younger brother Lev was attacked and almost killed.”
Everyone sits in silence as Mikhail speaks.
“We must address the alliance we’re forming tomorrow, the need to solidify ranks, and the reality that our combined forces will be powerful. But justice must be served. We know that Nikko was ready to lay down his life. While we’d like to think we’re beyond an eye-for-an-eye mentality, that’s not always the case.”
I speak up. “We clarified with Petr Ivanov before his untimely death that the attacks against us were not his orders.”
“I understand,” her mother says. “But it was our family who attacked you. And I’ve already thought this through.” Vera looks at her in surprise, not quite as in tune with politics as her mother. “We’re willing and able to discuss how our families will make amends for all that has happened.”
Mikhail pauses for a moment, sitting up straighter. “Then Nikko, I will depend on you to report back. It’s essential to have a working relationship with the Ivanov hierarchy. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
“Excellent.” Mikhail sits down. “Let’s eat.”
Neither Vera nor I are very hungry. We’ve been apart and need time alone. Though it’s Russian tradition for a bride and groom to spend the night apart, I’m going to insist on seeing my future wife alone.
“Take a walk with me, Vera?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Vera
We walk hand in hand outside the family home, the skyline casting a faint pink glow on falling dusk around us. Nikko walks at my side so that he’s between me and the street. Just like he did in Moscow.
“Vera,” he begins at the same time I say, “Nikko?”
It feels strange saying his real name, but a part of me rejoices. We need to start over. To begin again. What better than with a new name, a new location, a new family?
My heart is in my throat when he turns to me, and I see the toll this has all taken on him. The lines around his mouth and eyes and the weight on his shoulders make him look tired and belabored. I want to smooth out those lines. Sit on his lap and tell him I still love him. That I understand. He was torn between loyalty and honor and chose what he thought best. But I don’t tell him any of that.
When I open my mouth to speak. . . he kisses me.
My eyes flutter closed at the feel of his mouth on mine. I sigh, allowing myself to finally actually breathe.
My breath catches when he tangles his fingers in my hair. I sigh and melt into him, into the warmth of his embrace and his claiming mouth on mine. I moan when his tongue licks mine. I move closer. The next thing I know, his hands are under my ass, my legs are wrapped around him, and he’s carrying us to a wrought-iron bench beside a leafy bush.
Sitting down, he positions me to straddle his lap and pulls back slightly. Our foreheads touch. His voice cracks when he begs for forgiveness. “Vera, please. I want to tell you I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for lying to you.”
“You thought my family was responsible for attacking yours, and to a degree, you were right. You have a sworn duty and loyalty to your family. And while you had a plan. . . you didn’t act on it, Mar—” He isn’t Markov. That’s gonna take some time.
“I never thought I would be able to forgive someone for lying to me, but. . . you took a bullet for me. And by most standards, I’d think. . . I—” My voice gets all choked up. For some reason, just being this close to him and seeing the earnest expression in his eyes brings everything to the surface. Everything. My father’s gone. Irina betrayed us. Markov isn’t Markov. We’re going to be married tomorrow. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. I’m choking on emotions in a way I didn’t even with my mother, my best friend.