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She reaches across the table, her hand covering mine. "Whatever you decide, Jules, make sure it's what you truly want, not just what's convenient or tempting."
I nod, her words sinking in.
"Jules, your need to start this nonprofit, to honor your mother, it's noble. She would be so proud of you. But" she pauses, choosing her words carefully, "are you going to be okay being in a loveless marriage? A marriage where the only expectation of you is to have a child?"
Her question hangs in the air between us. It's the heart of the matter, the crux of my dilemma. I open my mouth to respond, but words fail me. The truth is, I don't know if I'm okay with it. The idea of a loveless marriage, a relationship built on convenience and business, goes against everything I've ever dreamed of.
"I don't know," I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Barb gives me a sympathetic smile, then stands up. "I'm going to the restroom. Sit with your thoughts for a minute."
Left alone, I try to imagine what my life with Ivan would look like. There would be the obvious logistics of the arrangement concerning the marriage, the child. And then there's the fact that we'd have to have sex for me to get pregnant. Unsurprisingly, that thought doesn't bother me at all. In fact, the idea of being intimate with Ivan sends a thrill through me. He's undeniably sexy, a man of intensity and passion, and I have no doubts he'd be a good lover. And after that insane foreplay, Lord knows I’m dying to get the full treatment from this man.
The mutual attraction is undeniable. I've seen the way he looks at me, the brief flashes of desire in his eyes long before he showed up at my door. It's more than just professional interest.
The thought of being close to him, of sharing a physical intimacy that would result in a new life being brought into this world, is strangely exciting. It's a far cry from the romantic, love-filled relationship I've always imagined and dreamed about, but there's an undeniable pull, a chemistry between the two of us that can't be ignored. It’s damn near palpable. I still quiver from his touch.
But is chemistry enough? Is the promise of financial stability and the opportunity to start my nonprofit worth the trade-off of a marriage without love?
These are the questions swirling in my mind as I sit in the deli, my salad untouched, my coffee growing cold. It's a decision that's about more than just practicality or passion; it's about what I want my life to be, what I value, and what I'm willing to sacrifice.
As I wait for Barb to return, I realize that this decision isn't just about choosing a path; it's about defining who I am and what I stand for. And that's a choice that requires more than just logic or desire. It requires a deep understanding of myself and my dreams.
By the time my aunt returns, I've worked myself into a state that's half-determination, half-delirium. She slides back into her seat, eyeing me with curiosity.
“OK, thoughts?” She grins and leans in.
“What about the day-to-day stuff?” I blurt out, my tone one of exasperation. “Will we spend our evenings together like a real married couple? Go on dates, take trips? Or will it be more like, ‘Hey, honey, I’m off to run a multinational corporation, see you at the next board meeting.’”
Barb chuckles, clearly amused by my dramatic rendition. “You do have a way with words, Jules.”
I lean back in my chair, my mind racing. “He’s all business, Aunt Barb. I mean, the man could probably turn a romantic dinner into a shareholders' meeting.”
“What about last night?”
“It may have been no more than a slip,” I say, probably lying to myself. If I’m to do this marriage thing, taking our intimacy too deep might be trouble in the long run. If I convince myself that this is strictly business, I could actually do it. I think. “I really believe he just wants me to pop out a kid and help him raise it, and that will be the extent of our dealings with one another."
Barb nods, her expression thoughtful. "But is that enough for you? That’s the real question.”
I pause, considering it again. "If it means I can start my nonprofit years sooner, helping women and children escape abusive situations, I think I can handle playing house with Ivan Stepanov."
Barb raises an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air.
I throw my hands up, a mock gesture of surrender. "Fine, I'll admit that there's something about him. But," I add quickly, "that's not why I'm considering it. It's about the nonprofit, the good I can do."
Barb smiles, a glint of pride in her eyes. "You always were one to make sacrifices for the greater good."
I take a deep breath, feeling like I'm teetering on the edge of the biggest decision of my life.
Chapter 11
Ivan
Two days after my meeting with Boris, I find myself walking to the courthouse, accompanied by my younger brother, Fyodor.
Dressed in a suit that's perfectly tailored to his lanky frame, Fyodor is the antithesis of me in many ways. Where I am reserved and businesslike, he is charming, personable, and talkative. He never got involved with the Bratva, enjoying the spoils of my efforts from a safe distance through more typical employment.
At our mother's insistence—and with my support—he went to college and now heads the IT department of my company. His light brown hair is styled in a way that's casual yet professional, and his easy smile is a stark contrast to my usual stern expression.
