His breathing changes. “I did not mean disrespect.”
“No? Then why the fuck do I have to call to confirm that you’re still going to make good on the deal I made with you weeks ago.”
He says nothing.
“The transfer happens within the hour,” I continue. “Or by tonight you can ask my father for permission to bury what remains of your business.”
Another silence.
Then, quieter, “Within the hour.”
I end the call.
Viktor’s mouth twitches. “That will spread quickly.”
“Good.”
“The marriage changes things.”
“Yes.”
Everyone will understand soon enough.
Dmitri’s runaway bride is now my wife. Sergei’s debt is cleared under my hand, not my father’s. Men who were waiting to see whether I would remain content with scraps have their answer.
This marriage is not only scandal. It’s a line drawn through the city.
And Anya, whether she understands it yet or not, has become the visible proof that the old house can lose what it believes it owns.
“And Sergei?” Viktor asks.
“If he’s an intelligent man, he has already left the city. My father won’t take kindly to his debts being cleared by me.” He’s a dead man walking, but I don’t say that.
Part of me wonders if Anya realizes what she has done, but might not have been thinking so far ahead. Or maybe she doesn’t realize the depth of hatred my father has for me.
“Anya stays inside the estate,” I say.
“Do you want her told that?”
“No.”
Viktor understands. “I’ll keep it quiet.”
When he leaves, I remain in the study for a minute longer than necessary.
My wife.
The thought returns, unwanted and satisfying.
I push away from the desk and go back.
I don’t make it to the dining room.
Larisa waits for me in the hall outside, as if she knew exactly which door I would use. She has always had an irritating talent for appearing where a man least wants her.
“Your bride is with Alexei,” she says.
“That is unfortunate for both of them.”
