Chapter 3 Henry
Chapter three
Blanche Sinclair is a force of nature. As vexing as the meeting with the Taranovs was, it won’t hold a candle to the conversation I’m about to have with my mother.
“Explain yourself,” I say, walking around the table to take the seat next to her.
She adjusts herself, sitting up even straighter and lifting her chin to hold her head high, refusing to cower in the face of conflict. “Darling, I really don’t have the time to get into this. I would love to stay and chat all day, but I do have an appointment in thirty—”
I interrupt her, slapping my hand down on the table for emphasis. “We’re going to sit here and discuss this until you’ve told me every minuscule detail pertaining to that contract, and if it takes all night, so be it.”
Her face becomes somber, and the reality of the situation finally sinks in.
I’m suddenly suffocated with the enormity of what just happened.
My perfectly crafted facade breaks, with anger seeping out from the cracks.
I’ve spent my whole life training to be the heir to our family’s empire.
I’ve forgone so many of the experiences they take pleasure in, all so that I can keep our legacy alive.
“I’ve always done everything for this family, and now you want this?” I say, lifting the dossier of the woman I’m contractually obligated to marry. A woman whose name I’ve just learned. “Whatever you’ve conspired in the past has just come to light in a way that drastically affects my goddamn life!”
“Henry Charles Sinclair, don’t you ever speak to me like that again,” she says, the anger in her eyes now rivaling my own as she stares me down.
“I didn’t have anything to do with this contract.
This was your grandfather’s doing. How dare you insinuate that I would ever knowingly put any of my children in this situation? ”
I prop my elbows on the table and rest my head in my hands, rubbing my temples to alleviate the sudden headache. “I love you, and I apologize for losing my temper, but this is important. Arguably, the most important contract I will ever fulfill. Please…just tell me what’s going on.”
She closes her eyes and breathes deeply.
“I wasn’t around when the contract was originally drawn up, but from my understanding, it was meant to benefit both families.
Years ago, when your grandfather was growing the Sinclair empire, he ran across the Taranov family, and they quickly hit it off.
The Taranovs were a very wealthy family in Russia at the time.
They wanted to relocate their headquarters to the United States, but their strong ties to the Bratva made it difficult for them to gain any credibility here.
“Your grandfather was just that. He was an extremely credible businessman whose success was growing substantially. He was doing very well nationally. However, he lacked the funds or connections to take his trade global. The two families came together with a solution to solve both of their problems. The Taranovs would invest heavily in your grandfather’s business, providing some of their foreign contacts as well, and your grandfather would help the Taranovs gain credibility in the States.
“At the time, your father was only a baby, not that it would’ve mattered to your grandfather. He viewed everything attached to him as an asset, including his wife and children. The contract was drawn up for your father to marry the next daughter born into the Tananov family and…well, Henry…”
She pauses, and I see the tears swelling up in her eyes as she meets my gaze. “Your life isn’t the only one that was drastically affected.”
“Mom…” I reach across the table with my hand out, an invitation for hers. “I’m sorry, I should have controlled my temper before I knew the whole story.”
She grabs my hand and squeezes gently, blotting her unfallen tears away with a tissue.
“No, I deserved your anger. I should’ve told you years ago, but I genuinely didn’t think it would ever affect you.
When your father and I got married, the contract was amended to the next generation.
Of course, I didn’t know about any of this for years.
You were well into your childhood before your father finally confessed how he had managed to pull the necessary strings for our union to proceed.
“As you know, the contract was to become void if there wasn't a suitable contender born by the time you turned eighteen. I watched that family for years to make sure the consequences of your grandfather’s greed didn’t come back to affect my babies.”
I chuckle, remembering the things Ivan accused Mom of doing in regard to her watching. “Apparently, you did more than watch. Snipers, really? Assassins, too?”
“Honestly, Henry, they were just actors!” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “They almost took everything from me. I had to give them some trouble.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
Her face turns solemn once again, I assume from memories of her and Father, young and in love. “My darling boy, I’m so, so sorry you’re having to deal with this. I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to see this resolved.”
She breaks our contact with one last squeeze to my hand and reaches for the folder containing all the information I have about my bride-to-be.
Her eyes widen as she turns the first page back.
“Although the two of you would give me absolutely extraordinary grandchildren,” she says, holding up a picture of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
The meeting was traumatic enough that I didn’t once imagine what this woman would look like, but I’m having a visceral reaction after one glance at her. My feelings of being trapped in marriage dissipate as I envision her as my wife.
An alarm on my phone lets me know I’ll be late for dinner if we don’t wrap this up soon, even if I could stay here all night looking at the goddess I'm going to marry. I stand and walk around to where Mom remains sitting, holding out a hand to help her up as well. She bypasses my offer, jumping out of her chair and nearly knocking me to the floor with the force of her hug. “I’m so, so sorry, son.”
“It’s fine, really. It's not your fault. Let’s keep this between us for now, though. Our legal team can look into things before we include the rest of the family,” I reply.
She finally pulls herself back from me, and the Blanche Sinclair fire I’ve always known and admired is back in her eyes. “Of course. We can figure this out.”
I grab the folder left on the table before escorting her to her car and beginning my own drive home for dinner.
This is fine.
After dinner, I make my way to my study, dossier in hand, and recline in my chair, nursing a glass of scotch.
I have thirty minutes allotted on my daily schedule for digestion after dinner, and while I would usually take this time to work on a crossword, I have more interesting information to sort through.
Opening the file, I get my second look at the woman I’ve been promised to. She’s no doubt young, but there’s a grace about her that far surpasses that of an average eighteen-year-old. Her long, light blonde hair, creamy pale skin, and almost violet eyes are entrancing.
Willing myself to investigate further, I reluctantly pull myself away from her photograph and flip to the next page.
Her academic record is impeccable. It seems she’s tested at the level required for senior college coursework, which isn’t surprising, considering the list of tutors she’s been working with. Her instructors include some of the most decorated professors in the country.
While her academic capabilities surpass any expectation I might have had, I’m curious about the social skills she’ll have after living locked away on her family’s estate her entire life.
If she remained hidden for eighteen years, there’s no way they would let her out much, if at all.
I’m first inclined to compare her to eighteen-year-old Margot.
My sister was and is a kind-hearted soul, but she’s always been a bit spoiled.
As the baby of the family and the only girl, she always got pretty much everything she wanted.
But while Margot was brilliant, she wasn’t making valid points and counterarguments against famous philosophers, as my betrothed has been doing for years, based on this record.
Perhaps Katarina is shyer than Margot and more of a bookworm.
Sighing, I flip through the remainder of the packet, each page humanizing her more and more. I realize this sordid ordeal must be equally as off-putting for her as it is for me, if not more so.
Although she’s probably known about this arrangement long enough to wrap her mind around it all, I’m sure I’ll intimidate her. At the end of the day, she’s the one leaving everything she knows to move into a strange home with a man she doesn’t know. A man exactly twice her age.
Home. I suppose I’ll need to decide on a home base if I’m going to have a lady of the house. This estate makes the most sense. It’s close to my family, in case she needs anything while I’m away. I pick up her picture, and my heart races as I look down at my beautiful Katarina.
Is this how Ledger felt when he saw Sloane for the first time?
If there was a poster boy for anti-monogamy, it was him before he met his wife.
I’ve envied him for longer than I care to admit.
A part of me has always longed for the love in their eyes when they look at each other, and the way they so effortlessly gravitate to one another, holding and touching without thought.
And now he’s going to have a baby. A proper fucking family.
In the back of my mind, whenever I allowed myself to imagine having a family one day, it was always here. Without meaning to, my mind wanders to this house full of the life it once had when my siblings and I were growing up, except these children running the halls have icy-blonde hair.
Walking in from a long day away, my eldest two children run past me, yelling out greetings as they race through the halls, while the youngest leaps into my arms. My stunning wife waddles into the room, well on her way to giving me a fourth child, lighting up the room with her smile.
Setting the small child down to chase his siblings, I walk over to Katarina and pull her into a loving embrace, using one hand to pull her face up to mine for a passionate kiss before dropping it to her growing womb.
The thought of her carrying my child again makes me ravenous, pulling her with me to the bedroom…
The chime of my phone brings me back to reality. I look at my screen and see the twenty-four-hour notice in my calendar of my scheduled meeting with Lori at Rendezvous tomorrow.
I stare at the appointment reminder for far longer than necessary before remembering that I’m in an active contract with a submissive, and we’ve arranged for her to fly down to meet me at my brother’s sex club tomorrow evening.
I’ve been a member of the BDSM lifestyle for over a decade and have almost perfected my contract relationships over the years.
I started with more of a 24/7 lifestyle dynamic, but my aversion to intimacy quickly became an issue for many of my submissives.
With each contract, I learned more and more about what did and didn’t work.
My already low tolerance for intimacy took a significant hit when Father passed away five years ago, leaving me to run his empire, and it has trickled down to the bare minimum of what a healthy Dom/sub relationship can even be.
As it stands, I meet with my submissive two to three times per week at a designated location, usually a hotel or club.
I hardly ever bring anyone to my residence, and I’ve never had someone here.
I’ve been in a contract with Lori for almost a year, but for the life of me, I can’t picture her face.
The only face I can see is the one in the picture I’m holding. My wife.
Looking around the study, I think for a second that marriage might not be such a horrible thing after all.
I can have the estate prepared for Katarina.
My heart races at the idea of sharing a bed with her.
She will be my wife, after all. Preferring to stay in my own room, I never officially moved into the owner’s suite, so I can easily have it readied for her.
I suppose as of four thirty this evening, I’m effectively engaged. I need to cancel my appointment with Lori tomorrow and have Linda arrange to terminate the remainder of our contract.
Of course, we'll have our legal team working on this every free moment they have, but for now, it is what it is. If Danny’s initial reaction to the contract is anything to go by, my bachelor days are coming to an end.