Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Holly
I feel the rock-hard erection pressed against my backside at the same time I see my father’s text on the screen of my phone. Both things are jarring, but my father is the more worrisome.
Luckily, Viktor seems to sense the urgency of the person knocking at the door and moves first. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed.
“I’ll go,” I say quickly. “My dad probably won’t come to the door—he’ll send an aide.”
He opens his mouth but closes it again. “I need two minutes," he says, hurrying to that bathroom.
I grab a robe from the bathroom, throw it on over my pajamas, and walk to the front door, throwing it open in annoyance.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand of my father’s long-time aide, Lawrence. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning!”
“Time is of the essence,” he replies without apology. “Your father is waiting.”
“For what?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“He would like you to ride into town with him.”
“No, thank you. I have plans today.”
Before he can reply, the window of the waiting Town Car rolls down.
“Don’t be difficult, Holly.” My father’s face is stern, eyeing my surroundings with distaste. “I already had to make the drive out here.”
I motion to myself. “I’m not even dressed.”
“You have five minutes.”
“Dad, I can see you this weekend.”
“No, you’ll come now.”
Before I can respond, Viktor moves behind me, his body close to mine, one hand at my hip. “What is happening?” he asks quietly.
I see the tic in my father’s jaw—did he really think my new husband wouldn’t be with me?—as he realizes it will be a lot more difficult to manipulate me with Viktor here.
“My father wants to talk,” I say quietly.
“We will get dressed.” Viktor then reaches around me and closes the door in Lawrence’s face.
My heart does a little flip, so grateful for his strength and support.
“You have practice,” I whisper as we walk back to the bedroom.
He shrugs. “First, this. Then practice. Coach will understand.”
I squint. “You sure about that? It’s the playoffs.”
“Yes, but you are my wife. What kind of husband am I if I do not defend you?”
I study him for a few seconds, trying to understand who he is beneath the handsome exterior and the professional facade. Definitely more than the focused, stoic persona most people see.
“Go,” he says when I don’t respond. “Get dressed. I will call Coach.” He picks up his phone and walks into the other room, leaving me to find my clothes.
It’s early May so mornings are still cool, and I pull on jeans and a top. My father hates when I wear jeans, but that’s too bad. Maybe next time he’ll give me a chance to prepare instead of trying to ambush me early in the morning.
I wash my face, brush my teeth, and run a brush through my hair.
Fuck it.
This is as good as it’s going to get.
I don’t bother with makeup or anything and grab my purse and phone as I pad out to the living room. Viktor is dressed too, in sweats and a Thunder T-shirt that pulls tight across his chest. Standing in my living room, feet bare, hair a little tousled, he cuts a striking figure.
He’s about six two, with dark hair that’s usually slicked back, and green eyes. His features are chiseled, shoulders broad, hips lean. And when he took his shirt off last night to show me his tattoos, the deep V of his oblique muscles nearly made my girlie parts explode with arousal.
This glorious man is my husband.
It might be in name only but that doesn’t mean I can’t look.
“Ready?” He meets my gaze steadily.
“I have no idea what he’s going to do,” I whisper worriedly, all thoughts of his beautiful body immediately replaced with the issue at hand.
“I am not afraid.” He puts one hand on the side of my face. “Remember—we are married. In love. We are one. We must be strong together.”
“I’ll remember.”
I lock the door behind me and he takes my hand as we walk to the waiting car. Lawrence immediately goes around to open the door for me and I slide in beside my father, with Viktor behind me.
My father eyes Viktor imperiously, like he’s so far beneath him he doesn’t even want to share the same air. But that’s too bad. Apparently, we’re a package deal.
“Dad, this is Viktor Maslak. Victor, my father—Georgia State Senator Franklin Grant.”
Viktor reaches over me to extend his hand and my father takes it reluctantly.
They eye each other, and I nearly smile because Dad looks away first.
“I need to understand what happened here,” Dad says immediately. “This is unacceptable behavior, Holly. Tell me the truth—are you pregnant?”
I laugh because the truth is, we’ve never had sex, and I haven’t had sex in more than three months.
“No, Dad. I’m not.”
“Two months from now you’re not going to start showing off some baby bump, pretending you got pregnant on the wedding night.”
“No.”
He stares at me for long seconds, as if trying to decide whether or not I’m telling the truth. “Then why? Why would you elope with someone like this? A foreigner, no less! My constituents are going to have a field day with this!”
Oh, yes. His fucking constituents. That’s all he cares about.
“Dad, I couldn’t care less about your constituents. And Viktor is here legally, with a visa provided by the team and the league. Period. Just like hundreds of other professional athletes.”
“And what happens when his career is over?” Dad demands.
Viktor takes my hand and squeezes. “We will divide time, between U.S. and Russia.”
Dad snorts. “You can’t just go back and forth to Russia!”
“We can.” Viktor seems completely at ease even though my heart is in my throat. “We will have good life. Your daughter will never have to worry about anything.”
There’s so much sincerity in his voice, for a beat I almost believe this is a real marriage.
“I want to see the prenup,” Dad says, setting his jaw.
“None of your business,” Viktor replies smoothly. “We are both protected. That is all you need to know.”
“Listen here, young man—” Dad begins.
Viktor cuts him off. “Mr. Grant. I am not your enemy. I love your daughter and will do everything in my power to make her happy. I would like very much to be your family, but if you do not wish this, that is okay with me. But you will not threaten and manipulate. We are not children.”
Dad does not like being spoken to that way and I see the storm brewing behind his careful expression. Then, he appears to make a tactical decision and instead of continuing to go after Viktor, he turns to me.
“So, you were cheating on Nathan. That’s why you called off the wedding and then turned around and married someone else almost immediately.”
“That’s not the case. I ended the relationship because he was a liar and a narcissist who forced me to quit my job and then tried to control me by controlling my spending, whom I could hang out with, where I could go. I felt like a prisoner.”
Dad scowls. “Women need to be cared for, protected. Especially from themselves. Like your unhealthy attachment to that piece of crap farm your grandmother left you.”
“If it’s such a piece of crap, why do you continue to try to buy it from me?” I ask quietly.
He throws up his hands. “So that you have the money instead of so much responsibility! This is why you need to be controlled—you don’t even know when someone is trying to help you.”
I feel Viktor stiffen beside me. “Holly does not need to be controlled,” he says tightly.
“Oh, just you wait and see, when she blows through her entire trust fund on that stupid bird sanctuary. If you think you’re going to get your hands on her money—think again.”
Viktor arches his brows. “I have thirty-million-dollar contract. I do not need Holly’s money. Or yours.”
Dad narrows his eyes slightly. “Then what the hell do you see in her? There’s nothing special about her.”
Viktor stares at him, exasperation written all over his face. “I love her! She is kind, smart, easy to talk to. Very caring. A good friend. Thoughtful. And very, very beautiful. What more does a man need?”
Dad stares at him.
Viktor stares back.
This whole thing makes me uneasy, especially how they’re talking about me like I’m not even present.
The thing is, Dad has always done this. Nathan used to love talking about me without acknowledging my presence, but it’s different with Viktor. Nathan never defended me—Viktor does nothing but. And I’m starting to really like how it feels to hear Viktor say things he doesn’t have to say.
He has to pretend to love me, but he didn’t have to jump directly into the fire this morning and go toe-to-toe with my father.
He has to be affectionate in public, but he doesn’t have to say so many sweet, detailed things about me.
And he definitely didn’t have to skip practice to help me today.
I like him so much more than I thought I would.
“You just can’t do things like this,” Dad finally says, turning back to me. “Do you know how it makes me look that I wasn’t even present at my own daughter’s wedding?”
“It wasn’t a wedding,” I say quietly. “We eloped. This summer, when the season is over, we’ll have some kind of party or celebration.”
Dad grunts. “And I suppose I have to pay for it.”
“You pay for nothing,” Viktor interjects. “We do not need your money.”
“You know, you owe Nathan an apology,” Dad continues like Viktor didn’t even say anything. “You humiliated him by getting married so soon after the breakup.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t owe Nathan a damn thing.”
If Dad only knew how much Nathan owes me.
But I can’t tell him the real reason I dumped him. That would be the most humiliating thing of all. And of course, Nathan won’t admit to being a liar and a thief, so we’re at an impasse with that.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” Dad finally says.
“I’m twenty-six years old. I can make mistakes and learn to live with them, if necessary.”
He sighs. “You can’t come running home with your tail between your legs. You understand that, right? If Mr. Maslak has protected himself the way I think he has, then you’re going to end up with nothing.”
I don’t say anything. He never listens anyway.
“Where are we going?” I ask instead. “Viktor has practice. The third round of the playoffs is starting.”
Dad’s expression shifts slightly because he loves sports. Not hockey specifically, but certainly football and baseball, with a little basketball and golf thrown in for good measure.
“Lawrence, drop Mr. Maslak off at the arena since it’s on the way.”
I’m annoyed because that will leave him without a way home.
“And what about me?” I ask dryly.
Dad shrugs. “I’m guessing a smart, independent woman like you can find your way home.”
“She comes with me,” Viktor says, squeezing my hand again. “You will leave us both at the arena.”
Dad hesitates but then shrugs again. “As you wish.”
Then he turns to the window and doesn’t say another word.
And that’s scarier than anything he actually said because my dad is most conniving when he’s quiet.