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A flash of anger crosses my father’s face, the first show of emotion tonight. “Do not speak that way about my daughter.”
Grigor’s fist comes down on the desk, making everyone jump. “This is my home, and I will speak however I want!” He rises to his feet, towering over us in a show of dominance. “You and your daughter are guests in my country, and don’t you forget that. Either keep her away from my son, or I will request your immediate firing. This relationship between our children ends now.”
“No.” Alek steps forward, squaring off against his father. He’s the same height as him, and their gazes lock in a tense showdown that makes me shrink into my seat.
Grigor says something to him in Russian. His voice is cold and calculating, so frigid it sends a shudder down my spine.
“No, I will not stay out of this,” he replies in English. “I am a legal adult, which means I make my own decisions now. Who I choose to date is no longer your concern.”
Grigor says something else to Alek in Russian before rounding on my father. “Ambassador, you and your daughter can see yourselves out. This meeting is over.”
“No,” Alek says again. “Burn me with every cigar in your collection, but you won’t keep me away from her.”
Grigor’s eyes are blazing with rage as he rounds on his son. “If you defy my orders, I will revoke your passport and have the girl exiled from this country. You will never lay eyes on her again. Am I understood?”
Alek’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t respond.
My father rises to his feet, buttoning the top button of his suit jacket. “Come on, Willow. Let’s go.” I’m frozen to my chair, unable to move, so my father lifts me gently by the arm into a standing position.
He guides me to the door, but my head is turned over my shoulder toward Alek. He watches me leave with a desperate expression on his face, and any remaining thread of hope left is severed.
He’s been backed into a corner. His father has forced our hand and won.
We can’t be together.
My heart shatters into a million bloody shards of glass.
“Alek,” I sob. Hot tears roll down my face.
He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, the door closes between us.
My body is wracked with sobs, and I can’t catch my breath. My breathing turns to ragged gasps for air, and the beginnings of a panic attack bubble to the surface.
“It’s okay,” my dad whispers, wrapping me in his embrace. “It’s all going to be okay.”
“I can’t live without him!” I cry. “I love him.”
“We will figure this out, but first, I need you to calm down, honey.”
My legs give out, and I slump in his arms. He picks me up and carries me through the corridors of the palatial estate, my sobs echoing off the marble floors.
When we arrive at the house, Ivan climbs out of the driver’s seat and shuts the door, leaving my father and me alone in the car.
“Willow, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t brought you here…”
I sniff. “Thanks for sticking up for me. I just wish it was enough to change his mind.” The deep breath I try to take doesn’t fill my lungs. It’s just a shuddering gasp as panic rises in my throat. “Dad, I can’t breathe.”
“Let’s breathe together, okay? Inhale…” He reaches across the seat to grab my hand and inhales for four seconds. “Exhale…” He blows out through his mouth. I close my eyes and follow his lead.
We sit like this for a while, breathing in and out together. When I manage to find a steady rhythm, a comfortable silence falls over the car.
He squeezes my hand. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Dad in years.”
“Would you prefer David?” I let out a humorless laugh.
He chuckles. “No. Dad is good. I’d like to hear it more often.”
“Okay.”
