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“I’m going to review these terms and take in some additional considerations with the information that has come to light. I’m not sure I’d be able to agree to these terms. How about we meet again in a few weeks and see how we’re both feeling about the deal?” Petrov suggests. The sinister gleam in his eyes sets me on edge. I’m not the only one. His words suck the oxygen out of the room. I can see my cousins’ fingers inching down towards their guns.
Innocent words can hide cruel intentions.
The threat may be subtle enough that I can’t detect it outright, but I don’t need to identify it to know it’s there. To him, my fiancée is an issue to be dealt with. An obstacle to negotiations. And men like Oleg Petrov have a very specific way they deal with things that get in their way.
Diplomacy between families is a fine line. Being too nice is a weakness. Being rude is a reason to start a war. It’s something I have yet to perfect. My father calls me brash, but the coded language and smooth talking just grate on my nerves. His hand settles on my leg, a reminder.
“We can meet again in a few weeks, but I can assure you, our terms will remain solid,” my father reiterates. There will be no marriage between the families.
Petrov’s returning smile says more than words can. A chill runs down my spine. Emma’s life is being put into danger. Even worse, her life is being put into danger because of her father who knows how this world works. He took a gamble with his daughter’s life to keep my son away from me.
“I expect an invitation to your engagement party. I can’t wait to meet this blushing bride of yours,” he finally says. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. I bite my tongue until I feel my mouth fill with blood. It’s the only way I can keep from responding to him.
“It was a pleasure meeting with you.”
The words are bitter on my tongue. I have to swallow down the blood from biting my tongue before I speak so it doesn’t come out of my mouth. The fact I’ve said anything at all instead of removing his head from his neck is impressive.
My father and I leave the room first, my cousins following us. Curious eyes watch us. Oleg wasn’t the only one expecting a marriage proposal. Men and women around us are expecting to be pulling out champagne bottles instead of making way for us to leave.
We keep quiet until we are several miles away. Once we’re far enough off the Petrov property that we can’t view it through the rear-view mirror, we pull the cars over and search them for listening devices. It isn’t Petrov’s MO to bug a car on his property for a meeting, but you can never be too careful. Climbing back inside, I growl as I start the car.
“I wasn’t imagining Petrov threatening my fiancée, right?” I ask my father.
“It looks that way. I knew he wouldn’t take the lack of proposal well, but it he was banking on it more than I realized.”
“I don’t like it.”
My father is contemplative during the rest of the drive home, and I don’t interrupt his thoughts. He, much like myself, is dissecting every piece of the meeting. Mentally reviewing everything that happened. My father has the experience I don’t. He also can emotionally distance himself from the situation more than I can. The deal is important. It isn’t anything that will make or break our organization, but it certainly will help. It’s mutually beneficial. There is no reason for Petrov not to accept it besides the fact is his damn pride is bruised by the fact I’m not proposing to his daughter. Men in our world are known for making more stupid decisions for lesser reasons.
Hell, Gotti practically gave a list of his associates to the FBI because he liked to have his picture taken.
“You haven’t put a damn ring on her finger yet. Take care of that. If Petrov doesn’t see a ring, then he’s going to accuse us of trying to make a fool of him,” my father says as we pull onto the property. “We’re going to have to do this the right way. The ring, the engagement party, and the wedding. He’s going to be looking for a weakness, something he can use to end your engagement.”
“Why is he so fucking determined to marry her off to me?” I growl at my father.
Marriage as a business deal is common. This feels different. This feels personal.
“Consider this a test. You’re going to figure that out and tell me. Here’s a hint, you don’t just have to think like a crime boss, but you also have to think like a father.”
Chapter Eighteen- Emma
Enzo is staring.
That’s all he’s been doing since he got back from the meeting with his father. He’s sitting on the kitchen stool pushed up against the island and staring.
Matteo is having the time of his life baking cookies, though I’m sure his stomach is about to explode from the amount of cookie dough he’s stuffed into his little mouth when he thinks I'm not looking. Hopefully, the stomachache he’s going to be having later will be worth it.
Enzo's mom has taken to smothering him with all of the grandmotherly love that he has been missing through these years. I’ve done my best to make sure Enzo lacks nothing, but I can't bring my mom back from the dead for him. Even if I could, I don't know what kind of grandmother she would be. I never even knew what kind of mother she was.
Watching him interact with Enzo’s family and seeing the way he acts younger and more carefree makes me worry about the past couple of years. Have I been missing signs?
Enzo observes the entire scene. I grow self-conscious under his gaze and feel out of place in his home. It’s beautifully well-decorated, and the women in his family are incapable of looking anything less than gorgeous. I’m not ugly by any means. Just not as well kept. The last time I had my hair done in a salon was when I was a teenager. Probably slightly before I met Enzo.
While my father hadn’t been able to tell me much under the watchful eyes of our guards, he had slipped me a note while one guard had been distracted. In the note, he described to me the deal he had been attempting to broker. In the deal, Enzo would become engaged to a Russian oligarch’s daughter.
Enzo had briefly told me he was going to meet with Oleg Petrov, a very Russian-sounding name. He must have gone to call off his engagement. I can’t help but wonder if he’s reconsidering his decisions. Whoever he had been engaged to must've fit into his world much better than me. While I haven’t met Bianca since my arrival, I remember her from her wedding day. She’s insanely gorgeous, as was every other woman who attended the wedding.
Enzo chose me that night. I still don’t know why.
