Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Lucy
The absurdity of that statement made me snort a little laugh. “That’s insanity. We have three weeks to go, and we still haven’t ironed out the prenup.”
“Our lawyers assured us the draft will be done by Monday. We should drop the wedding announcement on Sunday.”
“Ooh, no. My dad will never agree to that,” I argued. “What’s the rush anyway? Are you afraid the Kings will pressure Anya to pursue an investigation?”
I had the sense not to say “precious Anya,” but my fixer mind was trying to find a way out of Kirill’s ridiculous suggestion. Besides, I was still trying to wrap my mind around my impending nuptials and the unexpected end to my singlehood.
“I was thinking about us. You. You’re on their radar now and I don’t like it.”
Nice. Showing concern for me, but I wasn’t an idiot.
“You know who my family is, right? The Kings wouldn’t dare raise a stink without proof, and from what I can see, you’ve done very well with compartmentalizing who knows what exactly happened, but quickie marriages always raise suspicions.
” Like pregnancies. But in our case, it was foul play.
“And a month is already pushing it. We have not done any follow-up to my overnight at your house a week ago.”
“Why, are you suggesting a sleepover?” Kirill smirked. “Because I’m open to it. I’d prefer it if you moved into my residence entirely.”
“No,” I said. “I’m suggesting more public appearances leading up to the wedding. Trust me, that’s a no-brainer even if I weren’t a fixer. In our case, the best solution is not to hide from the public.”
Kirill didn’t answer but looked out the window. We were close to my parents’ house. He punched a button for the speaker to the driver. “Sato, drive around for a while.”
“Got it, pakhan.”
He turned back to me. “I’m a busy man.”
“Well, clear your schedule if you want the Kings to leave us alone. Margo Winthrop already vouches for this alliance, so that’s a plus on our side. We just have to show Anya’s Davenport relatives and the Kings that you’re serious about marriage to me and not panting after Anya.”
“Did you see me panting around her at any point?” Kirill’s voice rose in an offended tone.
“Jeez, calm down,” I said. “Try your best to avoid her, have no contact with her, until this all blows over.”
He exhaled a deep, fractured breath.
I peered into his face. “Can you do that?”
“She might need reassurances now and then. The reason she’s going along with this is because she knows I’ll never abandon her. Total silence will backfire.”
I huffed. “Then check up on her, but we’ll have to be convincing enough in public.”
“Do you want to have dinner later?”
“No. I promised Mamma and Dad I’m having dinner with them. Besides, I need to plan our outings.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking me into.” He shook out his cuffs and avoided my eyes. “But, as I’ve said, I’m a busy man.”
“Just show up for the cake tasting tomorrow.”
His jaw clenched. “My sister and mother are already going in my place.”
I was surprised he knew it was tomorrow. “Well, make the time, Kirill, then after we can head out on our own, just the two of us, and paint the town red.”
He glared at me. “I can’t rearrange my schedule just like that.”
“Where do you have to go tomorrow? It’s a Sunday. Can’t you delegate it to one of your men?”
“No.”
Suspicious, I asked, “Are you meeting Anya?”
“It’s the reading of Davenport’s will. I won’t be there physically, but I have a lawyer who might need my input.”
For some reason, my blood boiled. Without a doubt, I was merely a stand-in for Anya, but until I was sure I was clear of any blowback from shooting Viktor, I had a stake in Kirill’s behavior too.
“So you’re just going to hang around your house like a lovesick fool and wait for the lawyer to call?”
“Careful,” he warned, his voice terse. “You’re starting to sound like a jealous wife.”
I obviously hit a nerve. Well, I was at the end of mine, too. “Fuck you. I’m done.” I crossed my arms. “You can tell Sato to take me home.”
“I can talk about this now.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t.” Because now more than ever I wanted my dad.
The only man who would drop everything when I needed him.
One vivid memory came to mind. I was in school and suddenly developed a high fever and started vomiting.
Mamma was in Italy at that time. Dad could have sent the nanny to pick me up because he was in the middle of an important real estate deal.
He rescheduled a meeting so he could pick me up personally and take me to the doctor.
I was worth more than any multimillion-dollar deal that could have gone pear-shaped because he left negotiations so abruptly. Family came first with the De Luccis.
I had to remind myself what it meant to be loved and cherished and to be put first, because I wasn’t going to experience it in my marriage. “And we’re still not moving the wedding forward. We’re sticking to the original date.”
It wasn’t a long drive. Maybe five minutes.
But it was five excruciating minutes of absolute torture.
Clearly, Anya meant a lot to Kirill. I had no plans of competing with that.
My pride wouldn’t allow it. If this marriage was going to be in name only, then so be it.
If there was any possibility of them picking up where they left off, then I’d rather not start a physical relationship.
They’d have to be discreet about it though.
When the SUV finally rolled to a stop in front of my parents’ house, I couldn’t wait to hop out.
Brutal fingers clamped around my wrist, stopping my exit.
“You can email me a list of your planned outings,” Kirill sighed as if he was doing me a huge freaking favor. “I’ll try to be at the cake tasting tomorrow.”
I yanked free of his hold. “If email is all you can spare me as your future wife, don’t bother. I’ll see you at the signing of the prenup.”
“Lucy…”
I slammed the SUV door and ran up the steps. I was about to insert the key when the door opened, and Dad stood there, concern furrowing his brow.
He saw my face, and a mixture of fury and a father’s love etched his features. It only intensified the pain I was already feeling. I had no idea why my heart was aching as if I’d lost something. This was only business. A sob rose in my throat.
But Dad was attuned to what I really needed. His hug. He opened his arms and I crashed into them.
“What the hell am I doing?” I cried.
The sound of a heavy wooden door banging shut reverberated in the foyer. He must have kicked it closed seeing that he had his arms full of me.
“Do I need to kill someone, mia cara,” Dad murmured in my ear.
I ended up with a tear-clogged laugh. “No. I’m just being emotional.”
He clasped my shoulders, inching me away so he could look into my eyes. His countenance was grim, and he wasn’t playing. “Say the word, and the marriage is off. I don’t care about the consequences or the money.”
“The marriage is not off,” Mamma screeched. “What ideas are you putting into our daughter’s head, Paulie?”
She strutted briskly towards us. “What happened?”
“Does it matter, Lottie? Our daughter is miserable.”
Okay, miserable was pushing it a bit. Now that I was surrounded by the safety of my family’s love, I began to identify the emotions weighing down my chest. Anxiety was one. Frustration was the other. “Mamma is right,” I said. “Kirill and I just had a little fight, and I got annoyed with him.”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “Your face didn’t say it looked like a little fight.”
“Marriage jitters?” I suggested, smiling through my tears.
“Come on, Stellina.” Mamma wrapped her arms around me and led me toward the kitchen. “I made some tea. Did you eat enough at the luncheon?”
I could use some sweets. “What pastries do you have?”
“I just stopped by the Iranian bakery.”
“Did you get nazook?”
“You know I did.”
Dad fell behind us. He loved it when Mamma and I were mother-daughter bonding. It hadn’t always been that way, and we’d been estranged throughout my teenage and young adult years. I blamed her for emotionally manipulating Dom into becoming a made man.
My mother and I still hadn’t addressed our rift. I’d been busy moving my life back to New York and we agreed to set our differences aside after almost losing Dad last year. We just fell into a co-existence pattern.
I settled onto a barstool while Dad perched on the one on my right. Mamma went to get cups before lifting the kettle to pour us tea.
“How’s wedding planning coming along?” I asked.
“Well, your brother’s wedding is coming along just fine,” Mamma said, not looking at me. “How about yours?”
“Cake tasting tomorrow, remember?”
Mamma sniffed again. “It’s too cookie-cutter.”
I laughed. “Don’t let Margo hear that.”
“Cookie-cutter with a price tag like everything is embellished with gold,” Dad muttered.
“Did Margo send you the invoice?” I asked.
“Don’t mind your dad,” Mamma cut in. “It’s nothing compared to what I would spend if I was the one planning your wedding.”
“So far, only one hundred twenty guests,” I said. “Only close family are invited and select associates. How many guests are Dom and Sloane’s wedding up to?”
“Five hundred.” Mamma plated the nazook and baklava. I loved the Persian baklava because they were less sweet, and the ones my mother always bought used pistachios. “Sandro and Bianca had over eight hundred guests.”
“It’s not a competition, Mamma. Besides, you’re talking about the Rossi and De Lucci families and associates. I bet ninety-nine percent of Dom and Sloane’s guests are from our side,” I laughed.
“Cara, you can throw a big reception for them after,” Dad told my mother. “You have a blank check.”
Maybe for my divorce party. I snorted into my tea.
“That would be nice. I can start planning in January. Give me a breather during the holidays,” Mamma said. “When’s your engagement announcement coming out in the paper?”
“After the prenup is signed. The lawyers have forty-eight hours to review the final draft.”