4. -3-
Nina
Iwalked into the luxurious restaurant in Upper Manhattan with my arm hooked through Dad’s. What was supposed to be a dinner between him, Sonny, and Sonny’s father had somehow turned into a family affair to discuss the wedding.
My knees, hidden under the long, elegant, backless black dress, trembled as he led me confidently to the main table, where the Carliles were already waiting for us.
Sonny stood when he noticed us, in his custom-made, black suit, looking like a perfect gentleman.
His father shot us a bored glance, setting the glass of whiskey on the table before following his son’s example.
He greeted us with a polite smile, but his blue eyes stayed as empty as always.
The guy has given me the creeps since I met him years ago.
He had the same diabolical aura as Sonny, and I would rather walk around all of Manhattan than be left alone with him.
On the other hand, Sonny’s mother, Arianna, sported a welcoming, broad smile complemented by glassy eyes and red lipstick.
I hoped at least one person in this family was normal.
But when the waiter poured the last of her expensive bottle of wine into her glass before I plopped into the chair opposite her, I knew it wasn’t her first drink.
And when I noticed the dark bruise beneath her elegant gold watch, a lump formed in my throat.
Her clothes were lavish, her blonde hair perfectly styled, and the mask on her face almost flawless. Yet it slipped for a second when her husband moved her wine glass out of reach.
“We can set the wedding for two months from now,” Dad suggested, waking me from my reverie. A shiver ran down my spine when his warm hand touched my cold one. “That way you can prepare everything, Nina.”
“That won’t work with Zyon,” Sonny pointed out, swirling the scotch in his glass. He watched me over the table like a lion ready to pounce. “He wants to get his brother out of prison asap, but my uncle won’t use his connections before we are married.”
“Do you want a wedding tomorrow?” I asked fiercely, feeling cornered. Sonny clearly couldn’t wait to bury his claws into me.
“I wouldn’t mind.” He shrugged nonchalantly, leaning comfortably into his seat. The white button-up shirt barely contained his firm chest muscles as he adjusted his belt. “I don’t care about the ceremony or the reception.”
“But I do,” I snapped, clutching my dad’s hand for support. “I won’t marry you in flannel pajamas.”
My jab at Zyon Zhumagulov’s rushed wedding earned a round of laughter. Still, while they called it true love, I called it another excuse to rush mine.
“Fine,” Sonny agreed reluctantly, glaring at me. His admission of defeat alerted all my senses. He wasn’t a man who would budge that easily. “But we need an earlier date than two months.”
“I’ll call my preferred florist, wedding salon, and the catering company and let you know their availability,” I replied, my heart beating somewhere in my throat when I held his gaze. His jaw ticked, and he bit the inside of his lower lip as if he could barely keep his mouth closed.
“That is a terrific idea,” Arianna enthusiastically supported my suggestion, smiling at me. Her husband lifted a brow, but didn’t say a word when she raised her glass. “I’ll happily help you, sweetheart. We need some alone time to get to know each other.”
“Amazing.” Dad squeezed my hand. “See, it’s going to be fine.”
I smiled falsely, but my eyes were locked with Arianna. The way she stared at me gave me goosebumps.
From that moment, the dinner went smoothly.
The men discussed business, which didn’t interest me at all, and my future mother-in-law was preoccupied with drinking as much wine as possible.
My mind couldn’t comprehend how she was able to talk after the third bottle, but she smiled and conversed as if nothing unusual had happened.
“I’m going home,” I whispered to my father after dessert, tired of all the bullshit Sonny let out of his disgusting mouth. With every glass of whiskey, his confidence grew to a massive proportion until there was no room for anything but his ego.
My dad acted oblivious to his drunken boasting, but I wasn’t in the mood to tolerate it. I wished to return to my room and think, or rather dream, about Dorian Zhumagulov and ways to catch him.
“I’ll drive you, fiancée.” Sonny slammed his glass on the table with unnecessary force.
“Thank you,” I said firmly. He was deeply mistaken if he thought I would sit in the car with his wasted ass. “I’ll take a taxi.”
“You’ll go with me, Nina,” he commanded as if I were incapable of making my own decisions. My brows shot up, the anger growing rapidly in my chest, but before I could retort, Dad interfered.
“She’ll go with me,” he announced in a tone that even Sonny’s drunken brain immediately understood.
“I have a meeting early in the morning,” he explained, helping me stand up.
Arianna didn’t pay any attention to us, while Sonny and his father cast us identical glares.
“I’m sure you understand the importance of a good night’s sleep. ”
He shook hands with them, exchanging more empty phrases. I stood on the side, watching them with repulsion.
This was my new family? Was I cursed or what?
My father and grandfather weren’t saints, but compared to them, these men were ridiculous. Fueled by booze, they were the strongest, the most intelligent, and the country should be grateful they even stayed.
Like seriously? Who cared?
Sebastian Carlile was a terrible lawyer who lived off his late father’s excellence.
His last big case ended five years ago, and since then, he’d only been involved in scandals.
The rumors said he loved expensive hookers more than his family and company, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.
It fit his dark personality: he cared about nothing but his own joy.
Sonny was no different than his father. From what Lucas dug up, he often enjoyed the company of paid escorts, accompanying his father to the casinos.
They attended huge poker games and lost a lot of money.
They were the exact opposite of my dad and grandpa, who cared for their family members, and our prosperity was their main goal.
Yes, they made mistakes, but they wanted the best for us even when they brought us the worst.
With this upbringing, how was I supposed to spend my life with a man who didn’t even care that his mother drank like she was training for the Olympics?
“Let’s go, Nina.” Dad gently took my elbow and turned me toward the exit. He didn’t insist I say goodbye to the Carliles. He led me outside into the cold night like they didn’t exist.
Seated in the comfortable back seats of his luxurious Mercedes, I watched his profile as he typed on his phone.
He looked tired, and despite his charm and smiles everywhere he went, I knew this nightmare grandpa threw us into kept him on edge.
He wished it would end, but I didn’t believe the Carliles would be our salvation. More like damnation.
“It’s a terrible idea, Dad,” I whispered after a long pause when he put away his phone. “You’re tying us to a bunch of alcoholics and gamblers.”
“We need them,” he repeated the sentence I had heard over a thousand times, obviously tired of my protests. “Can’t you just accept it? For all of our sakes.”
“Should I accept a drunk husband and domestic abuse?” I snapped, trying to keep my temper grounded because Dad would never believe Sonny attacked me. But it was an almost impossible task with a sword hanging above my head.
“Really?” He ran his hand through his perfectly styled hair, tousling it. “Now you start with this nonsense?”
“It’s the truth,” I said, my voice trembling. His understanding was my last chance to avoid the bullet. “Sonny already attacked me in our garden house years ago. Who will stop him from beating me when I am his wife?”
“Enough, Nina,” Dad grumbled, shaking his head. “Enough of this fabricated nonsense to avoid your responsibility.”
“Responsibility?” I echoed, surprise lacing my voice, but he didn’t allow me to say more.
“Yes,” he barked, his eyes gleaming angrily in the light from the street lamps. “You have a responsibility toward your entire family and me. And I’m done listening to your excuses and objections. You will marry Sonny Carlile.”
“I won’t—” I started, but he cut me off instantly.
“You. Will. Marry. Sonny. Carlile!” He repeated in a deadly voice that enveloped my chest like an iron chain. “Am I clear, Nina?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line, knowing that starting another round was pointless. He never listened to me. His only goal was getting off Zyon’s radar. And I understood it, I really did, but I refused to be the sacrificial lamb.
My last hope had been convincing Dad that Sonny was a monster. It failed. At least the party at Starlight was only two days away.