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“Damn,” I muttered, peering out through the windshield. “Roman upgraded the digs, huh?”
“Hopefully that only means good things for me,” Aleksei said with a huff before he pushed the door open and climbed out. I did the same, curious about what we were about to see.
We walked side by side while we approached the house, far more expensive than Roman Pavlov had ever attained previously. He was an old friend of our father, and while we weren’t all that close to the family, they did have a hand in some of our business dealings.
It seemed with the marriage pact between Aleksei and Roman’s daughter, our families would become more familiar with one another sooner rather than later.
With dad’s passing, it didn’t take long for the vultures to swoop in with their claims.
“Thank you for coming with me,” Aleksei uttered, eyes teeming with uncertainty. “Even if you’re an ass.”
“I may be an ass, but you’re also my brother. Whatever you need, I’ll be here,” I reassured him, trying to make a more conscious effort when it came to my family as a whole.
Patting Aleksei on the shoulder, we climbed the steps and knocked, only to be greeted by Pavlov’s guards. We were welcomed warmly enough, but Roman was a traditional guy, and he didn’t care much for sugar-coating things.
We were offered a place to sit on his imported couches, along with a glass of fine whisky. Sipping from it like it was a lifeline, Aleksei did a fine enough job hiding his apprehension from Roman. But since I was his brother, I saw right through him.
Seeing him having to eat his words after trying to convince me marriage was nothing more than signing some papers and serving cake cracked me up, but I concealed my amusement for his sake.
He was right—I was an ass. But there was no way in hell I’d let someone make an ass out of him. Roman didn’t need to know that Aleksei was quaking on the inside.
Roman swirled his whisky around before taking a generous sip and sighing as he leaned back. “It’s a pleasure to see you boys after all these years. I was gutted to hear about your father’s passing. He was a good man. Brutal when required, but level-headed enough to know what he was doing. Fortunately, he had his shit in order before he went, and because of that, here we are.”
Aleksei nodded pensively. “We’re grateful for your hospitality after all this time. Our father trusted you enough to organize this marriage pact, and that trust extends through us as well.”
“It’s a rather outdated tradition, I must say, but it helps us forge alliances in this hellhole of a world we live in. That is a beautiful thing,” Pavlov said, raising his glass.
Aleksei and I both raised ours as well, murmuring our ‘here, here’s together. We sipped the smooth spirit and relaxed somewhat. I didn’t miss the drawn-out breath that came from Aleksei, however.
“With that, let's bring out the beautiful bride-to-be,” Roman mumbled with a snap of his fingers. “We can go over the details later. The date, location, caterers—the works.”
After a moment of waiting, a woman walked out wearing a full-length sundress with her hair neatly braided down her back. She stepped forward timidly, hands folded over her front.
“It’s been some time since you’ve seen Sofia, my pride and joy,” Roman said, holding an arm out for her to approach. She tucked herself in next to her father and gave us both a shy smile.
Taking a good look at her, I could only imagine the thousands of thoughts that scrambled through Aleksei’s head.
Sofia wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t anything to write home about either. She looked like any other ordinary woman, but her meekness was what lost her several points. She was meant for someone, but I couldn’t say that someone was Aleksei.
Once again, it took great self-restraint to keep my amusement to myself.
“She will make an excellent housewife,” Roman stated wholeheartedly. “I’m aware you Morozovs have your cooks and maids already, but by housewife, I mean a pretty face to look at. Someone to give you an heir.”
Usually, trophy wives had something going for them, but I kept that point to myself. It made me wonder what Roman’s wife had looked like before she died.
“I’m sure she will,” Aleksei commented with a brief smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Fortunately, neither of them seemed to notice.
“Even better, Sofia is a talented pianist. She could play something if you’d like to hear something.”
Before Aleksei could accept reluctantly for duty’s sake, I interjected. “We have some pressing business matters we need to take care of.”
Roman looked between us for a moment, then he nodded and sent Sofia on her way, disappearing somewhere in the house without another word.
We eventually said our goodbyes to Roman, who reminded us he didn’t want to wait much longer for the marriage to be complete on our way out. It only grated at Aleksei more, even if he tried his hardest to hide it.
Silent all the way to the SUV, there was no missing his rigidness, surely stunned by what he had seen, and what was ahead of him. Aleksei’s skin flushed like he had seen a ghost, and he climbed into the driver’s seat.
Once the doors were closed behind us, Aleksei stared ahead aimlessly. I had never seen him so incredibly shell-shocked before. A part of me pitied him, but the other was armed with every joke I could think of.
