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“I’ve been treated very well,” she assured him.
It pleased him, but the truth was that she could sense the power rolling off him in waves. The kind of power that made a person feel they were always in the right, no matter the circumstances. She was beginning to realize that the decision of what to do with her might be shifting from the son to the father, with no way of knowing what that might mean for her. This man hated her father, hated that he had no control where her father was concerned, and had so done for the past century. Wounds like the ones recently inflicted on him by her family hadn’t even had time to stop bleeding.
Was she the wound he could inflict on her family in return? Would he care if it started an outright war? Wasn’t that what he'd wanted all along?
Sure, he’d schemed to have the Aslanovs and Kumarins at odds with each other, thinking he could manipulate the two other families to obliterate each other enough that he’d claim territory and garner more control. It was the reason why he’d been exiled out of the city.
But even while scheming, he hadn’t meant for any of it to get back to him. He hadn’t been vying for a fight. Perhaps, if what he wanted was control, he would at least consider not killing her to get back at her father for what he’d taken from him. If Vasili wanted control, she was the key to the lock in the door that had been closed in his face.
She drew a soft, steadying breath, leaning into the hope that she had some bartering power.
“Well, then,” he said. “You wish to bind yourself to my son?”
She stop-started in a stutter, grateful when Dmitri broke in. “As I told you, we’ve only discussed it briefly.” The statement was meaningful enough for her to gage that Dmitri, in no way, had told his father that she’d said yes, as well as provide the impression that he might even dislike her father’s manipulative assumption. As if him twisting it around as though it was already a done deal would force her hand. Dmitri didn’t want her hand forced? That was rather intriguing.
She glanced at him, but focused back on Vasili as he said, “Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that.” He’d definitely meant it like that. “I simply meant there’s the possibility of a wish.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“There. See?” Vasili directed the question at his son as if scolding him for thinking so little of him.
Alina knew this game well. The back-and-forth was something she’d seen her father do more times than she could count. One party would put up the opposition, the second party would bat it away, both knowing exactly what the exchange was really about: who was truly taking the lead in the conversation. A power struggle. Unspoken, but tangible enough.
“Do you understand what my son is asking of you, my dear?” he inquired.
She was beginning to see how much he was enjoying the situation. She might not have much to barter with for her freedom, but her life seemed safe enough when her very presence meant Vasili held sudden control within his grasp. She hated that this was what she was to be reduced down to in her father’s eyes: a bargaining chip.
If she could find a phone…
“I understand,” she said.
“And you’re willing?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet, sir. Your son only just put the proposition to me.”
“Proposition,” Vasili repeated, the glint of interest deepening in his tone. “That’s a very level-headed way of looking at it. A business arrangement. Yes?”
“That’s how it was presented to me, yes,” she said.
“You’re telling me that my eldest son made a proposal to you of spending your lifetimes together and he presented it as though it was a contract you were to sign?” His tone was half-amused, half-aghast. She couldn’t tell if he was seriously upset or if he was sincerely teasing her, or perhaps he was teasing Dmitri, or the two of them together. Was he seeing the absurdity as clearly as she did, or was he working out how much of an absurdity it was to her?
“We’ve had one conversation,” Dmitri said. “I hardly think it’s enough to warrant a decision based on faith alone.”
“Right. So, then, why does a decision have to be made now?”
“What?” Alina and Dmitri asked in one voice, looking over at each other before their attention went back to Vasili.
He looked from one to the other before leaning forward in his chair, placing his hands on his desk, one on top of the other. He put on a patient expression, tilted his head to the side and said, “Alina can stay here for as long as it takes to form a bond. Why not take the traditional month to get to know one another? Alina can then choose for herself if she’d rather stay here or… go somewhere else.”
She didn’t like the pause. Would he kill her if she refused his son?
A month. It was better than two days. She’d be able to find a phone in a month.
“I’m game if you are,” she said, keeping her voice casual as she looked at Dmitri.
“You will have to call your father, of course,” Vasili said. “Let him know that you’re here as our most honored guest and that you’re fine where you are.”
Fuck. If she told her father everything was all right and then called him to tell him it wasn’t, that would mean he’d have to retaliate. What other choice would he have? It took her power away. Rather than explain to her father about Gregor and put all the blame on the pathetic weasel, she would have no choice but to bring the Kuznetsovs into the scenario. They were her captors—not Gregor.
