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He smiled like a shark. “It should be easy for you to learn to love me again.”
“Emotion doesn’t work like that.” And she was pretty sure falling in love with this man, even if she married him, wouldn’t be the smartest thing she could ever do.
“Doesn’t it?” He pulled something out of the inside pocket of his coat. A small lacquer box that fit in his palm. “My grandmother brought this Palekh over from Russia when she and my grandfather defected during the Cold War.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“The beauty they left behind and the life they hoped to build. Deda always said Babulya was his frog princess.”
The top of the box was decorated with an image from the Russian fairy tale where Prince Ivan ended up married to an industrious and lovely princess who had once been a frog. The magical princess outdid her aristocratic counterparts set to marry Ivan’s brothers in every way.
Maddie thought maybe she understood why Vik’s grandmother Ana had told Maddie the story of the frog princess the first time they’d met.
“Does this make you my frog prince?” she asked tongue in cheek.
Vik traced the rich image painted in egg tempera on black. “Perhaps it does.”
“You know I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“Maybe you should.”
Now, that was definitely not something her father ever would have said to her.
“Your grandfather’s promises seem to fly in the face of Russian pessimism.” But then Misha Beck had never struck her as a pessimist.
The man who had changed his last name to reflect his new country and life had a decidedly forward-thinking attitude.
Maddie had only met Vik’s grandparents a few times, but she liked them.
A lot.
Despite the fact Misha and Ana had raised their grandson, Maddie had always considered them the epitome of a normal family. The kind of family she’d always wanted.
The kind she wasn’t sure Vik was offering with whatever was in that small lacquer box.
“Deda never believed the old adage that to speak of success cursed it.” Though his shoulders didn’t move, there was a shrug in Vik’s voice.
“His life and yours prove his skepticism.”
“That is one way to look at it.”
“The other?”
“Deda gave up being a Russian and embraced the way of his new homeland.”
“The American ideology does tend toward the positive.”
“Remember that.”
“You think I have to be a dreamer because of where I was born and raised?” she demanded.
“No. You have your dreams. I have mine. It is not about where you were born, but who you were born to be. I want you to believe in both of our dreams.”
“And that takes some of the idealism this country is known for.”
“Yes.”
He wanted her to believe in his dreams.
It might be love between them, but this was more than a business proposal—no matter what had prompted it.
CHAPTER SIX
“AND THIS?” SHE POINTED to the Palekh that had to be at least fifty years old. “Is it a reminder for me now?”
No matter how unmoved she tried to appear about that possibility, it touched her deeply.
“Yes.”
Her breath hitched. “Of the successful legacy you promised your unborn children?”
“Among other things.”
“That kind of success is more important to you than it is to me.” Maddie wanted promises of other things.
She wasn’t naive. She wasn’t looking for undying love, despite the odd feelings deep in her heart she was doing her best not to acknowledge. Even Helene Archer had been too pragmatic to promise her princess a knight in shining armor that would love Maddie. But there was more to life than building a company that dominated the world market.
“You think so?” he asked, sounding amused.
Though she didn’t understand why. Maddie could only nod.
“It will take the significant results of that type of success to make your school a reality.”
She couldn’t deny it.
“You think money means little to you, but then you have never lived in fear of want.” If he had sounded even a little condescending, she would have been angry.
He didn’t.
“And you have?” she asked, wondering if there was something about his past she didn’t know.
“Not like my grandparents, but let’s just say the year between my mother’s death and Deda deciding I would come to live with him and Babulya was not one I would ever allow my own child to endure.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Frank’s inability to make anyone’s needs as important as his own, including the basic need to eat of his six-year-old son, taught me as much about who I did not wish to be as Deda taught me about the man I would become.”
“Your grandfather is a good man.”
“He and Babulya raised me with an appreciation for the difference between working to provide and working an angle.”
“Like your dad.”
Vik grimaced. “Frank is very good at angles.”
“You want your life to matter.”
“It already does.”
She couldn’t argue that. Didn’t want to. “I want my life to matter, too—we just have a different way of going about it.”
“Yes, we do.” He didn’t sound bothered by that fact.
Why was she?
She wanted to tell him about Maddie Grace, but wasn’t sure how she would handle it if Vik had the same attitude about her efforts as Jeremy had had.
“I have already promised to help you see your dream of a charter school realized,” Vik pointed out.
Yes, he had, which put Vik miles ahead of her father in that regard already. Maybe their differences would make both of their lives better, rather than tearing them apart.
“What kind of promises are you making with that box, Vik?” she asked, almost ready to believe in the possibility of the complete family she’d never had.
His handsome lips tilted a little at the nickname she hadn’t uttered in six years, keeping it strictly private to her thoughts. Something she had not been able to let go of, but would not share with others, either.
“If you accept my proposal, I promise fidelity.”
She nodded.
“I will expect the same,” he said, as if there was any chance she didn’t already realize it.
Interesting that he’d led with that one, though. Was that because he thought she needed it after Perry’s betrayal, or was it more personal for Vik?
Either way, she said, “That’s a given.”
“I am glad to hear that.”
When he said nothing else, but looked down at her with an expression that seemed to see into her soul, Maddie prompted, “And?”
“I promise to continue to grow AIH, leaving our children a legacy worthy of both my family and yours.”
It was a promise meant more for and to himself and their future children, but she didn’t dismiss it is as unimportant. Not after he pointed out her own dreams required money just like his did, if not on the same scale. “All of our children?”
“Yes.” His brow furrowed. “Why would I distinguish?”
He could be one of those men who considered their eldest their only important child, or only their sons. But she knew he wasn’t.
Her concerns were a lot more unpredictable.
“I am willing to have two children with you, but I want more and they will be adopted.” This wasn’t a deal breaker for her.
Not if she could have her school, but it was something she desperately wanted to do. Be open to the possibility of bringing children into her life that they could offer a family, not just support, encouragement and help.
Vik’s brows drew together in thought, not a frown. “You want to adopt?”
“Ye
s.”
“Babies or children?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
Happy with that answer and the speed of it, she offered, “Most likely children.”
“All right.”
“That’s it? You agree?” Shock coursed through her.
“I assume we will make any decisions in regard to bringing more children into our lives—both those born to us and adopted by us—together.”
“Of course, but you’re open to it?”
“Nothing would delight Misha and Ana more than a house full of grandchildren to spoil.”
“There are a lot of bedrooms in Parean Hall.” Which was her acquiescence to living there as a married couple.
His satisfied smile said he recognized that as well. “I do not anticipate filling them all with children, but have no objections to our family inhabiting half of them.”
It was a ten-bedroom mansion.
Could it really be this easy? “You’ll put that in the prenup?”
“If you insist, but I assure you it is not necessary.” He placed the antique Russian keepsake against her palm. “Any promises I make you here will not be broken.”
“So long as it is within your power.”
“Yes.” His tone and expression implied Viktor Beck considered very little outside his power and influence.
“And you will be a father to our children, not just the man with that title.” He wasn’t the only one with memories of neglect after the death of a mother.
