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Anya pursed her lips. “Obviously you haven’t been to Europe to see a real palace.”
Sophia snorted. “That’s a dumb assumption. Have you met her family?”
Uncle Igor humphed disapprovingly at Sophia.
“So, what are your plans now that you’re done playing at college?” Volkov asked my sister.
Red flushed my sister’s slim neck. “Playing?”
“Zaika,” I warned.
“You’re a blood relative to the pakhan; shouldn’t you be planning your marriage?” Volkov continued the dangerous thread of conversation. He made it worse by speaking with potato gobbed on his maw.
“My sister will not be brokered for marriage,” I said, cutting my hand through the air.
“How unusual.” Volkov shoved another bite of food into his mouth.
“So long as I’m her male guardian, I won’t allow it,” I added firmly, then quickly changed the subject. “How soon is my own wedding to take place?”
“I wanted to be a spring bride, but Daddy insists that we wed after my birthday this summer. So...late August it is,” Anya twittered. Her voice was so high, it sounded like a parakeet screeching.
I bit back a groan. That was mere weeks away.
“This business with the Metaks needs to be finished first,” Nikolai announced as he suddenly sat up, attention finally taken from his phone.
I couldn’t agree more. Maybe I would die in the crossfire...but then Sophia would be alone at the mercy of these monsters. I fisted my hand under the table. There was no escaping this fate.
Chapter 30 – Briana
Cleaning the dinnerparty away was therapeutic, which was why I’d made Sophia leave me alone. She’d recognized the turbulence raging inside me and stayed outside with the others, reluctantly letting me act the part of servant rather than guest.
I didn’t just clear the table and bring out dessert. I put the food away. I cleaned the dishes. Something as mundane as dishwash bubbles on my skin helped ground me. This dinner was hell, but it made one thing very clear:I wanted Viktor.
I’d known it all along; it was why I’d come out here, even though I’d not been able to say it to myself. Admitting the truth was the final step in cementing that fact. Now I had a choice, and that choice was simple—did I take action and chase after what I wanted, or did I accept fate’s cruel trick and mourn what could have been?
My family might be a group of hard asses, but they didn’t raise a quitter. With mouth pinched in determination, I slapped a dish down firmly on the dish rack and winced when it cracked. Hopefully no one was too attached to the hand-painted ceramic platter on which the bread rolls had been served.
