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It swings open as soon as we’re on the porch. Konstantin’s middle daughter, Kira, stands in the doorway.
“Mr. Pushkin!” She smiles up at me, her adult teeth still too big for her thirteen-year-old mouth. She ushers us inside the way she was no doubt trained to do. “It’s so good to see you. I wanted to go to your party with my dad the other night, but I couldn’t make it.”
“Because it was after her bedtime,” Yasha mutters to me out of the side of his mouth.
If she hears him, she does a good job of hiding it. It would be rude for a polite young lady to defend herself, after all. Quiet submission is the name of the game in the Sokolov household. In most of the underworld, really. If it was up to Konstantin, he would hand his middle schooler over to me as a bride, and she wouldn’t even know how to begin to fight the sick deal off.
Even the thought of it turns my stomach. What kind of twisted fuck looks at this little girl and wants to marry her off?
She smiles, her lips coated in a purple gloss. “I’ll go tell my father you’re here.”
“No need. I know the way to his office.”
Kira stops in the middle of the hallway, her eyes wide. “Oh. Well… I’m supposed to tell him when people—He might be in a meeting.”
“It’s alright. He’ll make time for me.”
We turn the corner and see Konstantin’s office door closed. I rap one knuckle against the wood before I shove the door open.
Konstantin is sitting behind his desk, one leg crossed over the other. Much to my surprise, Mikhail is here, too. He’s standing in front of the private entrance to the office at the back of the room.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t wait for me to receive you,” Konstantin drawls, a sense of forced laziness in his tone. “You aren’t one to follow the rules of social etiquette.”
“I don’t like to bother with etiquette. Not when I’m amongst friends.” I take a pointed look around the room. “Your little girl thought you were in a meeting.”
“Kira has grown up a lot since the last time you saw her.”
“Is she finally out of her booster seat?” Yasha asks with a sarcastic smile. “Good for her.”
Konstantin’s gaze turns icy as he stares at my second. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, gentlemen?”
“We didn’t expect a visit,” Mikhail adds. “Word on the street is you’re spending all your time with your new fiancée.”
For the first time, I turn fully to Mikhail. There’s a bruise on his right cheek—evidence of the timehespent with my fiancée.
I open my mouth to warn him I’ll kill him the next time he touches her, but Konstantin interrupts.
“Mikhail told me he had the pleasure of meeting your woman last night. Cora, was it?” He looks to Mikhail for confirmation. His son nods once. “Well, Mikhail tells me Cora is lovely. As yourfriends, we both wish you nothing but the best.”
“How generous of you both.”
Konstantin dips his pale blond head. “But of course, I believe if you wantthe best, then you would marry a Sokolov daughter.”
“We tried that once before. It didn’t work out.”
Konstantin’s smile falters. “The details of our alliance were written down. I kept a copy, and I’m sure your father did, as well. The verbiage makes it clear that you agreed to marry the eldest available Sokolov daughter. That would make Kira—”
“A child bride,” I grit out, unable to hold back my disgust. “Does theverbiageexplain why a father would hand his child off to a grown man?”
Konstantin’s neck reddens, but he doesn’t react. “She is mature for her age. If you spent any time with her, you’d see that.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t spend a lot of time with middle schoolers.”
Mikhail leans forward like he is going to do something. What that might be, I have no idea. I made it clear last night that I could more than handle him by myself.
But Konstantin clears his throat.
A look passes between the men. A shared expression that sets off alarm bells in my head.
