Chapter 17 – Egor
Nadia insisted that music play in the background while she set the table. Kir Yezhov didn’t bother opposing. He knew his youngest daughter was going to have her way anyway, and as he was occupied with Ania, she could practically run the family dinner for all he cared.
In gradual progression, the music increased, and the classic tunes of Mussorgsky grated my ears. I would have preferred to eat the food in quiet.
Surely, I couldn’t have been the only one irritated, right?
I looked to my left at the table where s he sat. My soon-to-be wife—my little captive and prisoner. The little traitor. She didn’t look up and instead spent the time glaring at the utensils placed beside her plate.
It had been one week since I broke the news to her about us getting married, one week since she told me what I’d already known—that she hated me and I didn’t deserve love.
I was still processing how I’d felt after hearing that, or if I felt anything at all, while she’d spent days moping, staring out the window, and rejecting meals. On three occasions, I’d sent Anatoly to threaten her to eat. Other times, about once or twice, I’d heard crashes from her room and later seen Anna step out with shards of broken furniture, framed portraits, or the plates that held her food.
Earlier today, I went to inform her of my grandfather’s idea for the family to meet my future bride once before the wedding, and I expected her to throw a tantrum and insist that I forcefully bundle her out of the room before she attended. But she nodded without a word and didn’t meet my eyes.
I was starting to think she had accepted her fate, but I could not be too certain. If she managed to fool me once, she could do it again, so trusting her was not an option.
Nadia lifted a glass to her lips and tipped the rim to Ania, who sat quietly beside my grandfather. The entire family, including Ania, knew Nadia didn’t like the young wife for many reasons. She was younger, easier on the eyes, and my aunt thought she was with the great Kir Yezhov for the power and money. That much was true, but I’d once heard her tell Niko she loved the old man.
“I didn’t see you at the fundraiser, and my father made no mention of what might have happened to you.”
Ania sipped on a glass of water and smiled at my grandfather, trying to look confident before speaking. “I, uh, couldn’t make it. We had a promotional campaign in Tokyo.”
And yes, she was a supermodel. One of the most sought after, for that matter. Another reason Nadia had cause to believe that she had more men between her legs than my grandfather.
My aunt forced down a full glass of wine to swallow the rest of her comments.
The rest of our family was out of the country, so Nadia, Grandpa, and Ania were the only ones present, and starting the dinner with snarky remarks was not the grand plan. Short, concise, and straight to the point so everyone could leave sooner was more like it.
“Well, I am glad you could make it today, Ania,” I offered to calm her nerves and reached for the bowl of food at the center of the table. “We should start eating before the food gets cold.”
“I agree,” Nadia butted in with a grin. “And maybe your wife-to-be could serve us?”
Grandpa concurred, and Freya’s head perked up.
“To serve? Why, sure.... I’ll...I’ll do that immediately.” She kept the grave expression under wraps, offered a stiff smile, and moved her chair back to start serving.
I didn’t take my eyes off her for a second. Her dark hair was up in a sleek ponytail, and her short black dress, though simple, had my thoughts tilting toward taking irrational and lust-motivated actions after dinner.
She moved with fluid ease and tried to mask her indifference with a tight-lipped smile, but I saw through the cracks—saw her burning loathing directed at me when she stopped by my plate to serve.
I flashed a wide smile intentionally to spite her. “Thank you, my love .”
Freya gave an even wider smile that didn’t reach her brown eyes and went over to her seat.
Aunt Nadia turned to her with another glass of wine swirling between her fingers. “You’re so beautiful, dear.”
Freya squirmed in her seat as she started slicing the beef on her plate. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” Grandpa and Ania raised a brow at Nadia’s loud cackle, which was louder than the music in the background. “Don’t be silly, dear. No one calls me ma’am . Makes me feel old. I was a supermodel back in my days, you know?”
I suppressed a laugh against my fork and silently munched on the stir-fried vegetables. Grandpa cleared his throat, and neither of us bothered to tell Freya that she lied.
Shockingly, my soon-to-be wife was on her best behavior tonight. She matched Nadia’s attention with an interest that only I knew was fake. “That’s interesting.”
“Yes, I know. So, call me Nadia, please. Not aunty or ma’am. Just Nadia.”
“Copy that.”
The knives grated on the plate, and my aunt picked up more conversations while the rest of us ate silently.
“So, tell me, Freya, what do you like to do in your free time?”
Freya’s eyes met mine and didn’t blink while she responded. “Oh, I read. A lot. Like there’s nothing else to do.”
No one else at the table heard the strain in her voice when she talked or noticed the tension in her shoulders when I made the smallest movement, like she was scared of me and agitated at the same time.
“Mm.” Nadia munched on a carrot with her head bobbing up and down as she took mental notes. “You love books, I presume.”
Freya sliced her beef a lot harder and tore her gaze away from mine. “Amidst other normal things. But I guess I do love the smell of books and watching the sun rise in the mornings and set in the evenings.”
Because she’s holed up in her room all day.
“I’m a fan of some good mystery and romance novels and have a few recommendations. I’ll send them your way. In the meantime, what’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve done? I know I walked into a club, fancied the bartender, and mouthfucked him behind the counter. While he served other customers.”
“Aunty.”
“Nadia.”
“What? No one here is a saint.”
Freya choked slightly, and her lips curved in a small smile. “I once booked a last-minute trip to Europe with a friend.”
“You go, girl. You’re an adventurous one, I see?”
The smile fell. “Sometimes against my own will.”
“And what’s your favorite childhood memory?”
The question caught everyone off guard, including Freya. The faintest flicker of pain crossed her features before her expression softened. She chewed on her lower lip, picking through which story to tell.
“When I was younger, I used to spend summers at my grandparents’ farm. One summer, I had a balloon fight with the neighbors’ kids. It was my first time, and it was pure joy. But my mother didn’t think so because she had to dry up and pick the torn rubbers from my hair.”
Nadia chuckled, sweeping her dyed red hair behind her ears. “That sounds like so much fun! Family is everything, isn’t it?”
“It is,” the old man interjected. “And in my opinion, I think my daughter has had her fun with you.”
He dropped his cutlery on his ceramic and straightened up, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Dinner was fantastic, but I think we should get to know a bit more about where you come from—you know, your family?”
Her hands went still on her fork, and she forcibly swallowed the chunk of food in her mouth before looking up at the old man with that stiff smile again.
“My mother loves open skies and green grass, so she lives in Colorado Springs with my half-sister, Zeya, and my stepdad, Knoxx. She’s a high school teacher, and he’s into real estate.”
Grandpa raised a brow at her obvious omission. “And your biological father?”
She hesitated and stuck a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth before responding. “He was a cop, the most decorated officer in the police department.”
Grandpa and Nadia shared a laugh at the irony while she hastily gulped down a full glass of water.
“A cop, huh? Decorated police officer. Must have been pretty good keeping all those bad guys under lock and key, yeah? I mean, I should have at least heard of him. What’s his name?”
Freya was done eating, and her grave expression was fully fledged. “Aaron Fox. That was his name.”
Kir Yezhov fell eerily quiet, and I noticed the crease of his brow and his sudden disinterest in continuing the conversation. Nadia was more than happy to continue, making light jokes about attractive cops she’d been with, but I kept my sight trained on my grandfather.
He’d mumbled something, took an excuse, and left the table. I smelled something fishy.
Something was up, and I was going to find out what it was.