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After thinking that, I turned and looked up at him, his dark hair catching the sun and appearing to have an almost blue tint to it. His profile was so masculine I felt my ovaries explode. Square jaw, full lips, severe blue eyes, and dark scruff covering his cheeks.
Just as he turned and looked down at me, our eyes catching and holding, the front door opened. I forced myself to look away from my husband and saw the wait staff standing on the other side, head bowed low, refusing to meet our gaze.
I didn’t recognize her, but then again over the years we’d had a revolving door of servants thanks to my father getting displeased with any and all small annoyances he had with them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Petrov,” the servant said in a soft voice, sweeping her arm out to allow us entrance.
Nikolai ushered me to go first, his hand on the center of my back, as he followed me inside. The door shut behind us and the servant gestured for us to go to the sitting room.
Once at the entrance, I saw my mother standing over by the bar mixing a drink, and Claudia sitting on the leather couch with her head lowered and her hands in her lap. She was wearing an elegant gown, something you wouldn’t normally see for a family dinner.
My mother heard us enter and looked over her shoulder, her smile instant, but when she took in my appearance that pleasantness faded.
I wasn’t dolled up like they were, in fact I wore a pair of soft leggings and a cashmere tunic. But my mother’s mask of social pleasantry fell back into place and she set her glass down before turning fully around and walking toward me.
She embraced me but even I felt like it was stiff, and that pain of hurt and realization settled in my chest.
Once again my father was twisting my mother up, turning her against her own children. I vowed silently I would never be like this, never allow a man to control how I acted and thought, how I felt, no matter how much I feared him.
Those days were done.
“It’s so good to see you, Amara.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled, wanting the mother I’d known as a child to come back, the one who nicknamed me Sparrow not that long ago. The woman looking at me wasn't a mother admiring her daughter.
It was of a woman who was looking at someone she might pass on the street.
And God, that hurt more than anything else.
She pulled back, her hands curled around my shoulders as she smiled at me. “Married life suits you. You’re glowing.”
I found a flush stealing over my face as I thought about exactly where this “glow” came from, and it wasn’t because of nuptials. And as if Nikolai knew where my thoughts were, the hand that was still resting in the center of my back flexed.
It was as if we were both thinking about what we’d done in the private jet just a couple hours before, how he’d pulled down my leggings, hooked my legs over either side of the armrest of the leather seat, and ate me out until I came twice.
I cleared my throat and willed myself to stop blushing. I gave my mother what I hoped was a polite smile.“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. But thankfully she turned her attention on Nikolai, cutting off the weird energy that moved between us.
“Mr. Petrov, a pleasure.”
He gave her a tight-lipped smile and said, “Oh no, Fernanda. Call me Nikolai. We are, after all, family now.”
The look my mother gave him was one of surprise, but there was something else, something that subtly screamed right in your face that she’d never see him as family. That, right there, the clouded hatred in her blue eyes, was reminiscent of my father looking through her.
Oh mamma.
She cleared her throat and inclined her head. “Claudia,” our mother said and I looked at my sister.
Playing it off like I didn’t want to rush over there and embrace her was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. But I couldn’t keep that mask in place when I saw the nasty bruise on her cheek.
“Claudia,” I whispered and was standing in front of her before I even realized I’d moved. “What happened?” I let my fingers hover over her face, afraid to touch her cheek and harm her further.
“It’s nothing. An accident.” My mother was the one to speak and I gritted my teeth as I kept my focus on my sister.
An accident.I felt my blood boil. “Father did this.” My voice was so low only Claudia would hear. And it wasn’t a question.
“It’s fine,” Claudia said in a hard whisper and I knew she didn’t want to talk about it. But she didn’t have to.
Our bastard of a father had hurt her.
