Chapter 18 — Nial
I couldn’t bring myself to punish her for not telling me about my unborn child. The only thing on my mind ever since I’d found out about her pregnancy had been to keep her safe.
The fact that she was carrying an extension of me in her womb meant that to the wrong people, her value just went up a thousandfold. My enemies would see this as an opportunity to hurt me because this baby had put a bullseye on her back.
Her life and the unborn child’s were in danger. That meant there wasn’t enough time to be angry at what she didn’t tell me. The most important thing to me at the moment was doing everything in my power to keep them both safe.
For now, word hadn’t gone out about her pregnancy. The fewer people who knew, the better. No one at the mansion except Boris was aware of this. Over time, people would find out when her belly began to protrude.
Until then, the plan was to keep it quiet.
It had been three days since her return, and so far, she had spent most of her time in her room. However, in the cool evenings, she would always sit in the garden under the watchful eyes of my trained guards.
She seemed distant—withdrawn—like she hated it here. Every time I saw her through the security footage, she was lost in her own thoughts. Her hand often lingered on her belly as if confirming that the baby was still in there.
Her face looked paler by the day with the kind of hollowness in her eyes that unsettled me. Personally, I preferred it when she was feisty—always fighting everyone. I knew her spirit wasn’t crushed. I just didn’t understand the sudden silence.
My car rolled up the long driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. I pulled over by the fountain in the courtyard and killed the engine. The door shut behind me as I headed into the building.
Once inside the living room, I slowed down with knitted brows, staring at the back view of a familiar figure. The man stood at the center of the space with a glass of bourbon in his hand.
His eyes were fixed on the flames crackling in the fireplace. Those shoulders seemed broader despite his age, his immaculate black suit catching the soft light. Silver threaded through that black hair, once identical to mine.
He stood there in silence, his presence carrying the weight of a man accustomed to command. With one hand in his pocket, he swirled the wine in his glass before taking a sip.
“Fire is an interesting element,” he said without turning to look at me. “The same flame that warms a home can burn a city to the ground.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “The difference is the man holding the match.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you…” I said, taking a step forward, “…Father.”
He finally turned around, those cold, hollow eyes boring into mine. His expression was blank as always, his face wrinkled from old age. “You look tired,” he said.
That wasn’t a statement of concern. It was an observation.
I hadn’t seen my old man in years because we barely got along. He was the reason I was the monster I was today, and deep down, I despised him for that. He was the meanest person I’d ever met in my whole life.
He’d once pierced my shoulder with a burning spike because I hesitated to pull the trigger on a traitor.
“Your emotions make you weak!” his voice echoed in my head, a trigger that brought back memories I’d long buried. “You bastard! You better not bring shame to my name!”
My father, Mikhail Tarasov, would never show up at my place without a cause. And whatever it was, I was almost certain it would piss me off. That was all he’d ever done my whole life: piss me off.
He took another sip, his eyes scanning the portraits on my walls. “Your taste in art isn’t all that awful.” He met my gaze. “Not the worst collection I’ve seen.”
“Cut to the chase.” I removed my coat with measured calm. “We both know you didn’t come all the way down here just to assess my art collection.” I sank into the nearest sofa. “What do you want?”
He let out a quiet scoff, taking a seat across from me. “Everything is always straight to the point with you, isn’t it?”
I looked him dead in the eyes and told him what he used to tell us growing up. “Time is the most valuable thing a man owns. I’d rather not waste it on trivialities.”
A stifled chuckle fell off his lips, and he crossed his legs like he owned the place. “In that case, let’s get down to business.”
My heart almost sank. Almost.
“As you know, we live by a set of rules,” he began, his gaze unwavering. “And one of them has to do with stability. A thirty-eight-year-old man like yourself ought to have started raising a family by now.”
“Forty,” I corrected him.
“That’s what I said.”
He’d always had this annoying behavior of never accepting his faults. I was used to it by now.
“Legacy is as important as building an empire.” He set the glass on the side stool. “Here’s what I propose. An alliance, a political connection with a powerful family.”
My expression darkened, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.
“I’ve spoken with Yuri Sokolowski. He has a daughter, Hannah. Beautiful, eloquent, and highly educated.”
I didn’t say a word.
“You will marry her,” he concluded, reaching for his glass again.
In my father’s mind, that wasn’t up for debate. It was an order, one he expected me to obey without question.
He was in the dark about the situation on the ground—the Kiera situation. I had no idea how he was going to react when he found out, especially because she wasn’t from our world.
“I think you should listen to your father, Nial,” her voice cut through my thoughts. “He knows what’s best for you.”
I couldn’t believe my ears, and by the time I raised my head, she was already at the base of the stairs. My face twisted into a frown as I signaled her to get back upstairs.
But no. She ignored me and walked over to us, calm, composed, and unafraid. She’d been listening this entire time, and only God knew what was up her sleeve.
“Hi,” she said, beaming at my father. “Sorry to interrupt, but seriously, Nial, your dad is right.” She faced me. “Did you not hear the qualities he listed—she’s beautiful, eloquent, and highly educated. Sounds a lot like future Mrs. Tarasov to me.”
My scowl deepened, and for the first time, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Her interference in this conversation was embarrassing and considered rude in my culture.
Mikhail had killed people for lesser things than that. Did she have a death wish or something?
“Who’s this one?” he asked me, his expression still blank.
I couldn’t tell whether he was angry, but he most likely was.
“Oh, I’m the woman he needs to get rid of,” she answered him.
My father shifted his gaze between us, a hint of confusion glinting in his eyes.
“Kiera,” I called, my voice low. “Leave, now.”
“I’m not talking to you, Nial.” She faced my father. “I’m talking to a wise, powerful man who sees what you don’t and wants what’s best for your family.”
Manipulative little devil! She was massaging his ego. And the faint smirk on his lips told me it was working.
“If this marriage secures your alliance, then I think you should make him accept it,” she said to him.
I saw something I hadn’t seen on my father’s face before: shock. Her confidence in the presence of power intrigued him, just like it had intrigued me the first time I met her.
“What’s in it for you?” he asked her calmly. “Why do you want him married to Hannah?”
“Because I want him to set me free and focus on more important stuff. Like starting a family.” She glanced at me. “I just wanna disappear and raise the child on my own.” Her shoulders shrugged. “Everybody wins.”
Fuck.
I lowered my head, fingers rubbing my eyes as I wondered why on earth she couldn’t just keep her mouth shut.
“Child?” Mikhail’s brows arched, his eyes wide with curiosity. “What child?”
Silence.
My father rose to his feet, his gaze pinned on Kiera. “Are you pregnant with my son’s child?”
“Father….” I stood up.
“Silence!” he snapped. “Let her speak.”
She swallowed hard, a glimpse of fear flashing in her eyes. “Yes.”
He paused, wiping a palm over his mouth.
“Listen, we can still pull off the plan. He marries Hannah. I disappear. Easy-peasy,” she said, trying to sound confident despite the slight nervousness in her voice.
Mikhail stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “You’re carrying my grandchild. There is no disappearing.”
It was at this moment that she realized that she fucked up. She shot me a quick look, confused. I knew what was going on in my father’s head, and there was nothing any of us could do at this point.
He turned to face me, his eyes flashing with something I had yet to name. “You will marry the mother of your child.”
“What?” she protested.
I knew better than to speak when he was talking—it was pointless.
“This is not up for debate,” he growled at her. “No son of mine will birth a child out of wedlock like some street criminal.” He faced me again. “You carry the Tarasov name, so man up and take responsibility for your actions.”
My jaw locked, but I said nothing.
Across from us, Kiera stood frozen, stunned by the turn of events. She must be regretting having spoken up in the first place. Mikhail’s decision was final, leaving no room for debate.
I never intended to marry her.
The plan was to keep her safe and fed until the baby was born. But she just had to get involved and ruin everything. Judging by the shock in her gaze, it was clear that she hated the idea as much as I did.
Now, we were stuck together.
“Mr. Tarasov,” she said, trying to plead her case. “I think you’re making a huge mistake. Marrying me into the family will do nothing for the business.” She stared right into his eyes, her voice low and desperate. “I’m not as important as Hannah—there is no strategic alliance with me.”
Father looked back at her and asked, “Weren’t you the one who said I was a wise, powerful man who knew what’s best for the family?”
She went silent, anxiety oozing out of her.
“You two better start getting along.” He brushed off invisible dust from his suit. “You have a wedding to plan.”
He walked away without another word, leaving the two of us in the living room. Halfway to the door, he began whistling, his shoes scuffing against the floor.
I rubbed my forehead and sank into my couch, my mind reeling with a thousand different ways this could end. She tapped her left foot rapidly against the floor while biting her nails.
Her chest was heaving with slow breaths, her head lowered. “This can’t be happening right now,” she murmured to herself.
“You should’ve left when I asked you to,” I said softly.
She raised her head and met my gaze, her eyes blazing with fury. A moment later, she walked away, muttering curse words as she climbed up the stairs.
When I glanced up at her, she flipped me off mid-stride, her scowl deep and dangerous. She hated the outcome of her interference so much that I now found comfort in her frustration.
Her fate had been sealed, and she played a huge role in that. In an attempt to escape my clutches, she ended up making her situation worse.
And boy, did I love the unexpected turn of events.
I leaned back into the couch, a small, self-satisfied grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.