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Okay, so I’ve thought about Luka a little. Never on purpose, though. It is just hard not to think about one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. Luka has a shit personality, but an incredible body. Like an example cake in a bakery window—four perfectly frosted layers that look good enough to bite into it, but it is actually Styrofoam and spackling paste.
He is broad in all the right places with killer cheekbones even his dark beard can’t hide. His hair is shaved close on the sides, the top longer and naturally wavy. And his green eyes. I’ve never seen eyes so green in all my life. For a moment, I thought they were fake. It was like looking out on a forest meadow on the perfect sunny spring day. Beautiful and serene. But his clamped tight lips and furrowed brows told me Luka was anything but serene. Violence seemed to roil off of him like wind off the ocean, and I was worried he’d suck me in if I got too close.
Makayla sighs, and I am ashamed when I realize where my mind has been. I don’t want to think about Luka Volkov. He isn’t worth a second of my time.
“Hopefully they won’t be back again tonight,” she says.
“Hopefully.” I sip my coffee, which mostly tastes like sugar thanks to my additions, and let Makayla talk for a while. She complains about her landlord trying to raise her rent in the middle of her lease, talks about a trashy reality television show she knows is scripted, but can’t stop watching anyway, and smiles reliving the previous weekend when her dad came to the city to visit and they went to a baseball game and then got drunk at an adult arcade. I listen with jealousy, wishing my life could be so simple. Wishing I could spend a fun weekend with my dad in the city, hanging out like two normal people.
Almost on cue, my phone rings. It is my father.
“Sorry, I have to take this.”
Makayla waves away my apology and stands up. “I need another sweet and sour chicken cocktail, anyway. This is surprisingly good.”
I wait until she is far enough away that she won’t hear my conversation before I answer.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” he snaps. And then, before I can answer, he continues. “Meet me at the restaurant for an early dinner. We need to talk.”
It isn’t a question. It’s an order. “I’m having drinks with a co-worker.”
“Tell her it is an emergency. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”
He hands up before I can argue, and I only consider not going for a second. If I don’t, he’d send one or more of his men to come fetch me. He wouldn’t even bother to get out and do it himself. He is too busy, and he doesn’t have time for me to act out. Or, at least, that is what he told me the last time I refused to drop what I was doing and meet with him. After the few days I’ve had, I’m not in the mood to hear another lecture, so I finish my coffee in two gulps, apologize profusely for skipping out on Makayla, and leave.
My father is seated at the same table the Volkovs were at the night before. His hands are steepled in front of him, finger pads drumming against one another while he waits. I can tell by the deep crease between his eyebrows he is upset.
“Hi, Dad.” I pull out the seat across from him and sit down. He looks up at me, the crease between his brows deepening.
“I told you to beg for forgiveness, Eve.” He points at the tabletop as though reading from a bulleted list he’d written there. “I told you to give Ivan Volkov whatever he wanted. And yet, you refused to marry his son.”
“How do you know about that?” Based on Ivan’s reaction to Luka’s proposal, I didn’t think he’d mind that I refused. And I certainly didn’t think he’d go to my father about it.
“Luka came to me.”
This is even more surprising. “He came to see you? About me?”
He nods. “He explained the offer he made to you, and said he would give you another chance to accept. It is a gracious offer.”
“One his own father did not support,” I argue. “You told me to apologize to Ivan, and I did. Ivan did not want Luka to marry me. Luka didn’t discuss it with his father before he made the offer. If you want me to reconcile with Ivan, then I don’t think this is the way.”
“Fuck Ivan,” my father says, waving his hand as though swatting away a persistent gnat. “A connection to Luka is protection. Ivan will not hurt his own son, his heir. Even if Luka has stepped beyond his father’s counsel for this decision, Ivan will not risk losing his son and starting a war with me by hurting you. This union will save you.”
“From what?” I ask, voice loud enough to draw the eyes of a few couples enjoying happy hour at the bar. I close my eyes and lower my voice. “Death would be better than being married to him. He is a monster.”
“The death of everyone you know and love would be better than marrying him?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “You would rather see me die than marry Luka Volkov?”
“That isn’t fair.”
He sits forward all at once, top lip pulled back. “Life isn’t fair, Eve.”
I don’t recognize him. Not when he is like this. The man in front of me is scared and more concerned for his own safety than mine. Because being married to Luka might save us in the short term, but in the long term, it would kill me.
“I love you, but you are naïve in the ways of this business,” he says, shaking his head. “You are too head strong. Too independent. Honestly, I think being married to a man like Luka could be good for you. He is a leader, and you need—”
“I need a father,” I growl. “You say you love me, but how can that be true when you are willing to sell me for your own sake? When you are willing to use me like chattel to save your own skin?”
