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“Mother, I don’t want to be here,” I insist as we pull up to the gorgeous palatial estate.
“That’s tough. It’s time you met men beside the boys at home.”
“Mother, I am only eighteen.”
“Yes, and you’ve been boy crazy for how long now?”
“I haven’t been boy crazy.”
“No? Sorry, just Ilya Semyonov crazy.”
“I…”
“Don’t lie to me. I’ve been married to one of the most intimidating Russians in the world. I know it’s addicting, but I want you to understand that there are other options.” Other options? He was never an option, and that’s the problem.
“I’m not addicted to him. In fact, I couldn’t give a shit about him.”
“Young lady, if your father heard that mouth of yours, he’d be angry.”
“Where is Father?” I remind her with a tone I never give my mother, especially if my father is present.
“I sent him on an errand for me. I didn’t want you to meet Anatoly with your father present.”
“Didn’t he set this meeting up in the first place?”
“Yes, but he can be so intimidating.”
“Ugh. Whatever. If he can’t handle Father, we’re wasting our time.” I roll my eyes, and then we exit the vehicle with our security flanked at our sides.
“Darling, no one can handle your father.”
We walk up, and Anatoly smiles. “Mrs. Romanov, and this must be little Natalya. My, you are not little anymore. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Surprisingly, his comment should come with a cursory scan of my entire body, but he keeps his gaze focused on my face. Perhaps he’s playing the gentleman in front of my mother. I’ve heard about him and his ways, so I’m truly surprised that my mother brought me here in the first place. Anatoly is a manwhore to the nth degree, and I don’t want anything to do with him no matter how handsome he is.
“Thank you.” I smile back at the handsome man, but I feel nothing when he takes my hand in his. Nothing at all, and then a chill runs up my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
A vehicle pulls into the circular driveway, and I don’t need to know who it belongs to because my gut already tells me it’s Ilya. I turn, and as it comes to a stop, he slides out of the passenger side sleekly, like a panther. He adjusts his gray suit jacket while his pale blue eyes remain trained on me. His dark brown hair is mussed even before he runs his hands through it.
“Speak of the devil,” my mother whispers. There’s a tinge of humor in her voice, and I wonder if she expected him to make an appearance. He walks up to her and greets her as he always does. “Ilya, my dear boy. It’s so good to see you. We missed your annual visit.” My mother hugs him tightly and whispers in his ear.
“Ah, my friend. It’s good to see you,” Anatoly says to Ilya, but he doesn’t reciprocate that friendly demeanor. “Please, come join us for some tea, Ilya. Mrs. Romanov decided to grace me with her presence and that of her lovely daughter before our meeting. I hope you don’t mind delaying it.”
“It can wait,” he growls, stepping in behind me.
My mother takes Anatoly’s arm and has him direct her to the painting on the wall, leaving Ilya and I next to each other. “Please tell me where you got this. It’s absolutely divine. I want a piece like this in my entryway.” We follow along, but I can barely breathe with him so close. “Wouldn’t this look fabulous there, Ilya?”
He growls behind me, and I can feel his head lift up in her direction. “Yes, it would look perfect under the stairs,Godmother.” He presses his thick, meaty hand to the small of my back, leading me toward the sitting room. “Sit, Princess.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“Natalya, please have a seat,” Anatoly says. Now I sit, and of course, Ilya chooses the seat nearest me between Anatoly and myself, so I scoot myself away from him. He huffs and flexes his knuckles, cracking them easily.
“So, what brings you to Russia? I wasn’t aware that you were arriving so soon?” he asks my mother, but I’m not sure I believe him. There’s an edge to his words as if he’s only speaking to be polite.
“If you remember, Natalya turned eighteen two months ago and has been eager to begin dating. I’m in agreement that she should consider her choices before getting married.” She smiles the way she does when she’s being manipulative.
“Yes. So, Anatoly, what is it that you do?” I ask him. A deep rumble comes from beside me, and I can feel my panties soak through to my pretty dress.
“Anatolyisn’t interested in you.” The thickness in Ilya’s accent only adds to the ferocity of his words without him even raising his voice.
