22. Natasha
22
NATASHA
E dna knocks lightly on the gym door to inform me that my father’s requested my presence for dinner, and surprise flits through me because it’s earlier than our usual mealtime.
“It should be ready shortly,” she says. “And he requested that you and Tatiana dress for guests.”
“Sure,” I agree, my fingers slipping from the punching bag I stopped as soon as the maid entered. “Thanks,” I add before she slips back out the door with a subtle curtsy.
Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I quickly unwind the tape around my knuckles. Then I grab my towel, wiping my face and neck as I head toward the gym door. On the top floor of our penthouse, the gym is state of the art, and on the other side of one mirrored wall is the pool where I swim laps.
But today, I needed to let off some steam, so I went for boxing practice first.
I make quick work of showering and braid my hair back since I won’t have time to style it. Then I sift through my dresses to find one that’s just shy of cocktail attire. I pick out a crimson velvet one with a heart-shaped neckline. It hugs my curves before stopping just above my knees.
Tatiana knocks on my door as I’m applying the finishing touches to my eye makeup, and she smiles at me from the doorway, where she looks stunning in her flowing emerald-green silk halter-top dress.
“Any guesses on who we’re dining with?” she asks cheekily, combing her thick and perfectly styled waves of auburn hair over one shoulder.
I shake my head. “Papa didn’t mention anyone at breakfast.”
“Maybe it slipped his mind—what with the news about the Kings and the yakuza.”
“Could be,” I agree. Applying a dark-red lipstick that matches my dress, I smack my lips as I consider myself good enough. Then I join my sister as we descend the steps to the main floor.
My heart skips a beat, my feet faltering as we reach the landing.
What the hell is Killian’s hulking right-hand man doing here?
Lance, I recall his name. And he looks less than pleased about his current circumstances, though he keeps his hands clasped behind him as he and Maksim glare daggers at each other.
“Maks?” Tatiana inquires, her gaze flitting over the gargantuan Irish captain.
“ Baryshnya ,” Maks responds politely, addressing my sister with respect as he turns his attention in our direction. “Your father?—”
“We have a dinner guest I thought you girls might enjoy having the opportunity to speak to personally ,” Papa says, striding from his office and into the main living room.
Beside him, our mother looks less than pleased, her lips pressed into a thin line, though her hand rests lightly on the inside of our father’s elbow.
“Tatiana, Natasha, I believe you’ve met Killian King before,” he says, gesturing to the figure who steps out of the shadows upon his introduction.
Mouth suddenly dry, I swallow hard at the overwhelming shock of seeing him here, in my house. My heart races as I take in his devastatingly handsome face, the strong cut of his jaw. His blond hair falls into his eyes in that haphazard way that makes it dangerously tempting to comb my fingers into.
And when his light-green eyes find mine, I’m instantly held captive by his gaze.
Thankfully, my arm is linked with Tatiana’s and she guides me the rest of the way into the room as my body goes numb with panic.
Screw Lance, what the hell is Killian doing here? Is he absolutely insane?
He must be if he’s standing there, smirking like he’s in the middle of some uproariously funny prank. Fury ignites inside me when I think about how this is probably all part of his master plan. Another move in his chess match.
And I hate the way my body responds to his presence when I think of how he’s used me.
Manipulated me.
Blackmailed me into sleeping with him.
I must be the crazy one for entertaining the notion for even a second that a man like Killian could want something more than to toy with me to hurt my family.
“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Tatiana asks, her tone biting as she addresses the elephant in the room.
And to my astonishment, my father chuckles. Casting a look in Killian’s direction, he claps the Irishman’s strong shoulder in an almost commiserating gesture.
“I don’t think that, when you had the brazen notion to come here this evening, you realized how my daughters would eat you alive. But come, let’s enjoy a nice dinner before the entertainment really begins, shall we?”
Giddy anticipation mingles with anxiety as I process my father’s words. We are, in fact, intending to eat dinner with the Kings? What alternate reality did I fall into and when?
Tatiana and I share a baffled look before following our parents into the dining room.
And as we settle into our chairs, Killian ends up across from Tatiana, Lance taking the chair next to him—directly across from me—as my parents take the chairs on their end of the table. I’m painfully aware of the intentional seating, Killian directly beside my father and across from my sister, and I bite back the entirely unreasonable flood of jealousy.
Considering my father’s good mood and the general atmosphere of the dinner, I have an inkling that Killian came to propose marriage once more. And this time, my father doesn’t intend to pull any punches.
He’s ready to unleash my sister on the unsuspecting Irish boss.
And all I wish is that I could have one more opportunity.
Because this time, I’m out for blood.
I’m ready to kill the bastard who’s proven far too good at manipulating me.
“I’m honored that you ladies would let us join you for dinner,” Killian says as one of our staff enters to pour us each a glass of wine. And Killian’s eyes cast first to my mother, then Tatiana, before lingering on me.
Blood boiling, I snatch up my glass of wine and take a generous sip as I try to rein in my emotions. It’s going to take every ounce of self-restraint to behave like I’m supposed to in public—to be the demure young lady that I present as my persona.
But it’s what’s going to get me through this dinner without flinging myself across the table and using my steak knife to murder the cocky Irish scoundrel. So I keep my chin tucked, looking up at Killian through my lashes as I allow Tatiana to speak for us.
“Of course, anyone my father would deem worthy of a place at our table is a welcome guest,” she says with sickly sweet cordiality.
And to those who don’t know her, she’s the vision of a polite young lady. But I can’t miss the sarcasm dripping from her tone. Not one of my family members has forgotten Killian’s crude speech at our charity ball. And only I have stumbled in the ability to loathe him for it.
A hint of surprise flickers across Killian’s face as he gives Tatiana a polite smile before his eyes shift back to me. And a moment later, something akin to disappointment darkens his green gaze.
Bread and salads are delivered as Killian does an impressive job of coaxing conversation from my mother, my sister, even my father, asking about the choice of decor in the house, the upcoming charity ball my mother just sent out invitations for, and how my father must be proud of having surrounded himself by such beautiful and accomplished women.
By the time the main course comes around—decadent raspberry-glazed lamb chops served with creamy mashed potatoes and balsamic drizzled asparagus—the tension in the room could be cut with a knife.
The wine seems to be doing little to help, and I sense my father growing impatient with Killian’s ability to remain impervious to the discomfort. Lance, on the other hand, looks like he’s about ready to blow a gasket. And I can only imagine that’s because he and his boss are sitting in the lion’s den, pretending to have a nice meal.
“So, Natasha, what were you up to today?” Killian asks, his eyes finding mine as he slides a bite of lamb from his fork in a way that makes my mouth water and my stomach coil.
“I, uh, reading some,” I say, hedging. I read very little. But mostly I’ve been taking out my anger on a punching bag. “And training…” I add vaguely, my cheeks coloring as I work to keep my ladylike mask in place.
It’s been so long since I’ve had to hold back with Killian. And the contrast to how we’ve interacted since my first attempt to kill him is so stark it’s almost painful. I hadn’t realized just how much I like that I can be myself in front of him—I never have to hold back.
That hint of confused disappointment flickers through his eyes again, and then he smirks. “Training? For what?”
Of course the jerk would read into the meaning behind it. And now he’s toying with me because he can tell I’m trying to keep up appearances. He’s trying to break me, to see if he can’t get my mask to crumble right here in front of my family.
The undercurrent of hostility and tension is almost unbearable. I’m surrounded by so many secrets, with each person seemingly amused by their own hand of cards they’re holding close to their chest. Meanwhile, my sanity rests on the edge of a knife, and I feel my grip surely slipping.
Seeming to have had enough, my father cuts in, and an intense wave of relief washes through me as he speaks up.
“I think that’s enough small talk for the evening,” Papa says, his voice commanding as he brings the farcical interaction to an abrupt halt. “Why don’t we get down to the reason Killian came to speak with me today? Tatiana, Natasha, Killian is here to see if he might implore one of you to marry him. I said I would bring the proposal in front of you since he’s so adamant—and confident—that one of you would be willing to marry him. Seeing as he won’t take my word on the matter, I thought it was time you ladies had the opportunity to express your feelings toward his proposal. So, daughters, I request that you at least hear what the man has to say before giving your final response.”
My stomach twists uncomfortably, my heart flip-flopping in my chest at the suggestion, and I glance sharply at my father who gives me a meaningful smile. He expects me to finish Killian off. Once and for all. If Tatiana doesn’t annihilate him first. And though my sister abhors violence, I wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to drive Killian to the breaking point before she’s done with him.
The thought sends anxiety coursing through my veins, and I glance quickly in Killian’s direction before dropping my gaze.
“So, Killian, do you have a preference as to which of my daughters you would like to speak with first? Or did you have a speech prepared that would woo both at the same time?” The smug amusement in my father’s tone is biting, and I can tell he’s enjoying every moment of this.
Humiliation radiates through my body as a hundred regrets hammer inside my head—regret that I failed to kill Killian when I had the chance, regret that I didn’t see his deception and manipulation for what it really was, regret that despite my initial instincts and the fact that I was being blackmailed, I still managed to catch feelings for the sleazebag.
I can’t keep up the pretense. I can’t continue to play the part, and as fury roars to life inside of me, I look up to find Killian already staring at me. He meets me dead in the eye, and my heart skips a beat as the intensity of his gaze steals my breath away.
“I’ll start with Natasha. If she’ll give me a moment of her time,” Killian says, his voice smooth and confident.
Someone could knock me over with a feather, and when I glance toward my father, then Tatiana, they look equally as stunned. They recover quickly, however.
And Papa rises from his chair, Tatiana quickly following suit. “Anastasia,” he commands, when my mother hesitates, her eyes flicking toward me with maternal concern.
I give her a small smile, and she squeezes my hand before joining my father and sister at the door.
“I expect you’ll want some privacy,” my father says, pointedly eyeing Lance as Killian’s right-hand man lingers by his side.
“Of course,” Killian agrees, giving Lance a subtle signal. And the hint of a smile flickers across his lips—I suspect because he sees through my father’s motivation.
“You’re really going to trust this ruffian to be alone with your youngest daughter?” Tatiana demands, her gaze perceptively suspicious as she takes in Killian’s wolfish grin.
Our father winks at me, making my pulse stutter anxiously. “I know she can take care of herself,” he says, giving me the silent signal.
Then he places his hand between my sister’s shoulder blades as he ushers everyone but me and Killian from the room—taking the oxygen with him.