Page 69 of His Sacrifice

Twenty Three

RAOUL

“Hi.” Briella gets up from where she’s sitting at the table and holds out her hand for me to shake. I take it, greeting her the way I would a client, which doesn’t seem quite right considering we’re supposed to share the rest of our lives together.

“Was the traffic okay for ya gettin’ here?” She attempts small talk as we both sit at the table.

“Traffic was fine.” I smile, reaching for a menu to read over.

“This place is too fancy for the likes of me, everything’s in French.” She laughs, the girl hasn’t lost her Irish twang despite her living in the States since she was a child.

“Would you like me to order for you?” I offer.

“That would be stupid, ya don’t know anythin’ about me, how are ya gonna pick what I’m to eat?” I huff a laugh and it eases the awkwardness slightly. But I still can’t get my mind off Evelyn and the way we left things. The thought of me hurting her kept me awake all night, and I can’t, no matter how hard I try, forgive myself for it.

“I’ll take whatever isn’t snail or frogs,” Briella leans across the table and whispers.

“The venison is good,” I recommend.

“Then I’ll take that and be grateful.” She winks cheekily.

I wave over the waiter and place our order, then check my phone in case Evelyn’s tried getting hold of me.

Nothing.

“I guess we should get on with what we’re here to do, get to know each other,” Briella suggests, taking a sip of wine.

“Don’t we have forever to do that?” I point out, trying not to sound bitter. None of this is her fault. I’m sure if she could pick a man to marry, I wouldn’t even make it onto the shortlist.

She studied English Literature for Christ's sake, the girl wants a Mr. Darcy, not a Tony Montana.

“Well, you already know I can’t read French,” she smiles. “What we could talk about is Prizrak. I've heard he’s causing ya some trouble.”

She looks excitedly curious.

“No trouble,” I assure her. “There are many like him. They never last.”

“D'ya think he’s something to do with the Melnik family. Prizrak is a Russian word, it means phantom.” She informs me of something I’m already aware of.

“You don’t know French but you know Russian,” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“I know nothing.’ I googled it.” She sniggers at me cleverly.

“I think that if it was anything to do with them it would be too obvious. Whoever this is, is going to a great extent to keep themself anonymous. The Melnik family have never been rivals of ours, they stick to their border, and we keep to ours.”

“I visited them in Russia once when I was a little girl, d’ya know they live in a castle? Freaky place it was.”

“You're quite well travelled.” I let her see that it impresses me.

“I’m hoping that being your wife isn’t going to put a stop to that.” She turns serious, her green eyes holding a threat. “I’m not a hard person to get along with, but I’ve always known me own mind. I’ll be your wife, I’ll even do my duty and knock you out a few kids, but I won’t be downtrodden.”

“I respect that, and I have no intention of down treading.” I nod back at her. I like the girl, I always have. She’s sassy and beautiful. I just have no desire for her.

“I’ll always respect you,” I promise, meaning what I say. I’m not entering into this marriage with any other intention. She may not be Evelyn but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve for me to be kind to her.

I check my phone again, disappointed when I see that I still have nothing from Evelyn, I have a terrible twist in my gut that’s telling me something's wrong and I can’t shake it off.

“So who's on your mind?” Briella asks, with that big bright smile back on her face.

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