3. Proposal
Chapter three
Proposal
I t was three hours of waiting, and Tatianna was done with it. Her feet hurt. She was sick of the conversation and the fake pleasantness or, worse, the fake grieving. No one here was sad that Yaroslav Morozov was dead. There should be a freaking celebration, and there might be, if she could get out of this house and go home.
But she was lost.
The house ate up so much land it deserved its own town name. There were dozens of rooms, so many freaking hallways, and now she was officially unsure how to get back to the banquet hall. Tatianna fell back against the wall, removing a heel to rub her foot.
Despite the aggravation, she wondered what it would be like to live here. There was electricity throughout the whole house which she thought was an impossibility till now as she stood underneath a lamp, trying to see all the wires.
In her home, they had electricity in the kitchen, but everywhere else, there were candles. It was devilishly hot, and she sweated all day long. But here, she noticed a delightful breeze that kept the hallways slightly cool, and she wondered if it were possible to have air conditioning.
This was why Tatianna was ready to leave her small, poor town. She deserved the finer things in life. Her hair and makeup would last much longer in this kind of place.
“There you are.”
Tatianna snapped her head down the hall as Yakov approached with his hands casually in his pockets. His black jacket had been removed, and the first few buttons on his white shirt were undone. The way her stomach twisted at the sight of him was a terrible thing to feel, and she quickly slipped her shoe back on and straightened, slapping on the best mask she could muster.
“Mr. Morozov,” she greeted. “I got lost.”
He chuckled as he paused in front of her. “I noticed. But thankfully, I have many servants who keep a lookout for strays, so I knew where to look. I, however, might have sent your fiancée to the gardens.” Yakov took a purposeful step forward, and Tatianna took an obvious step back.
Her heart jump started in apprehension. She didn’t know this man, she didn’t know what he was capable of, but there was one thing for certain, she had a knife tucked against her thigh and if she had to, she would use it. But this wasn’t any man. This was Yakov Morozov. If he were to make an advancement, could she deny him?
Yakov could see the fear in her face and took a step back. He had thought that would excite her, not scare her. “I only wish to talk to you.”
The space brought comfort, and she relaxed. Now, she felt foolish. Yakov did not need to take from women when they willingly gave it. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”
Yakov motioned to a door, and she followed him skeptically. They stood in a library, which happened to be the third library she had found. The number of books these people possessed was astounding. She was sure they were collective items. The Morozovs didn’t appear to be the kind of family that collected anything that wasn’t of value.
The curtains were open to reveal the gardens and Tatianna searched the maze for Fedor. It was dark out, but he carried a lantern as he walked around, asking random people if they had seen her. She thought it was adorable and she smiled in spite of herself.
Tatianna felt terrible for him. He deserved someone so much better than her.
“I want to offer a business venture.”
“Talking to the wrong person,” she mumbled, leaning against the window pane.
Yakov had never felt jealous over a woman before. Over his father’s attention to Yefim, yes, all the time, but not for a woman’s attention. He belittled those who fell into a female’s web, much like his father had done, who became so bitter being controlled that he overcompensated by constantly talking about women being good for only two things: Fucking and impregnating. Otherwise, they were useless. This mantra had followed him, and for the most part, he had begun to believe it to be true. But now standing here staring at Tatianna, Yakov wanted her eyes on him and only him.
“Marry me.”
Tatianna flipped her head toward him. The outrage in her gaze was humorous. “What?”
“As a business venture, of course.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard my proposal.”
“I don’t need to. I’m already engaged.”
“Yes, and I will make it up to him. He and I will be partners.”
“You’ve talked to him about this?”
“Not yet. But he’ll do it. Fedor is quite ambitious.”
“He loves me.”
“So?”
“He won’t let me go.”
“Every man has a price.”
Tatianna looked out the window. Fedor was frustrated, standing on a balcony just below where she was standing. If she pounded on the window, he would look up and see her. But she didn’t.
“Do you love him?” Yakov asked with a sigh. He didn’t want to hear it. The answer would aggravate this situation more than he wanted it to be.
Tatianna turned to him, “Why me?”
There were selfish reasons and not-well-thought-out reasons, but the business reasons were the only ones he wanted to reveal: “Your father’s lands sit on the Pakhra River. It makes it easy to distribute goods to all the distant villages. If I invested in his lands, he could become very rich in a very short time frame. And if he makes money, I make money.”
“Why me?”
Yakov shifted. She was making him uncomfortable, and she wanted a better answer. What answer did he have? This was a new business idea that he had only had five hours ago. The reasons were based on instinct, but how could he explain that to her?
“I want you,” he surprisingly admitted.
She flushed and bowed her head. “You want to marry me because you want to sleep with me?”
The rush of her excitement was visible, and Yakov watched it from a distance as if it were a lunar eclipse. The heat went from her cheeks, down her long neck, to the top of her fat breasts. Her nipples hardened, and with the right angle, he could see the rigid peaks through the thin material of her bra and blouse.
“Would you rather I try to fuck you instead?”
The way her eyes narrowed on him caused a humorous smirk to push on his lips. “I’m not a whore.”
“No, you are not. But I can certainly treat you like one if you’d like.”
“Why would I like that?”
Yakov suppressed a smile as he journeyed to the drink station and poured himself a glass of vodka. “I’ve spoken with Fedor. I’m sure he is as boring in bed as he is in conversation.”
“Fedor is smart.”
“He is. Book smart. Not street smart. Is there a book on lovemaking? Because I’m sure he’s read it.” Yakov came over with a second glass for her and held it out, “But there is no book on fucking.”
Tatianna had never been spoken to like this. She should be flustered and uncomfortable. She should be slapping him and stomping her way toward Fedor to tell him all about the rudeness in which Yakov spoke. But this wasn’t just any man.
And his words didn’t bother her.
Tatianna found her fingers around the glass, barely touching the tips of his. He was only inches in front of her, close enough to touch her if she permitted it. He leaned against the wall when he released the glass, and their attention simultaneously dropped to Fedor.
Her conscience returned to her: “My apologies, but I’m not the kind of woman you are looking for.” Tatianna hurried away, placing her drink on the table as she went. This was so very wrong. Even being in a room alone with him was against the rules and everything she’d ever been taught.
Tatianna stared at the floor. She didn’t know why she was hesitating or hadn’t slapped him for his indecency, or hadn’t instantly said no and walked away. Why was she lingering? Her gaze lifted and followed the entire length of the room. If she said yes, this would all be hers. This entire house. The entire property. Everything she had ever strove for would be possible.
Tatianna met his gaze again. There was a darkness, a desire burning inside them and she would be lying if she didn’t admit that she felt it pull her, like a rough piece of rope sliding up her skin, wrapping around her wrists.
She turned to him with a straightened back, “What are your plans when Yefim becomes head of the family?”
The question stalled him and irked him because the topic was sensitive. He didn’t answer her. His secrets were his and his alone.
Tatianna didn’t stop, “He’ll kick you out or kill you because he knows that you want it. If I can see, so can he. Making plans with the sons to undermine their fathers isn’t a bad strategy, but you need more cards in your hand.”
The anger was replaced with humor. Yakov sat on his desk to study her. How could a woman think so much? It was really extravagant, and he was curious just how far she could go. “What do you suggest?”
“Steal his wife.”
A scoffing chuckle slipped out of his mouth before he took a sip to stifle it. Could he do such a thing? What would be the benefit?
“He loves her,” she continued. “Which is surprising because I doubt your brother loves anything.”
Yakov bowed his head. The truth to such a statement was nerve-racking. He wanted to defend his brother for his lack of emotion. Their father wasn’t exactly a ball of sunshine, and their mother was a fat blob who ate herself to death. Yakov wasn’t sure there was anything he loved, either.
“Take her, and bargain for her.”
“Shall I cut a finger off and send it as a gift?” he mocked.
“If you want.”
His blue eyes flickered over her. Tatianna stood firm. She was not so faint at heart that such talk would make her nauseous. She had seen men tortured before. Their screams were comical most times.
Yakov chuckled, shaking his head. “My instincts are correct. Fedor doesn’t know what he has, and you are wasted with such a man.” Yakov straightened, stopping halfway toward her. He didn’t want to frighten her, only to entice her. “You know, you never answered my question,” Yakov watched her, finally noticing a bit of darkness in the back of her eyes. “Do you love him?”
The question was an insult, and she wasn’t going to stand there and take it. Tatianna left, pounding her way down the hall, surely to get more lost than she already was.