Chapter 2 #2
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Eileen. Ronan has told me so much about you,” Sergei Kuznetsov says as we shake hands in the tearoom.
His touch makes me recoil, and I wonder how much of this reaction is instinct and how much is simply me being against anything that my father tries to shove down my throat.
“Likewise, Mr. Kuznetsov,” I reply with a pleasant smile.
“Sergei, please. We’re going to be family soon enough.”
Shivers— and not the good kind—travel down my spine at his words.
He’s not a bad-looking man. On the contrary, I’ll bet he’s broken a string of hearts before ever setting foot in this house. Tall and athletic, Sergei appears to be a regular at the gym—or at least some sport that involves plenty of running. His shoulders are broad, and the custom, dark blue suit he’s wearing falls elegantly over his muscular frame. His eyes are a cold blue, and a lock of blonde hair rests on his forehead.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Thank you for taking the time to come visit,” I force myself to say, motioning for us to take our seats at the table by the window, where our staff has already set up a lovely tea service.
My father and Ciara join us, both of them quiet as they watch our interaction. It makes me feel like I’m some sort of exotic animal at the zoo, and they’re introducing a new male to my enclosure.
“For you, Eileen, I will always make time,” Sergei replies in a soft-spoken tone. I offer a nod as I pour a cup of tea for him, then for myself.
Ciara clears her throat, lips curled into a smirk as I look at her.
Calmly, I set the teapot down. “Here, help yourself,” I say to her, then let my gaze wander over to my father, before letting it settle back on Sergei’s handsome face. “So, I understand you’re handling your family business now?”
“That’s right, I recently took over the corporation,” he replies, adding too much sugar for my taste to his tea.
“How did that happen?” I ask.
“Two of my brothers went back to Moscow. My younger brother passed away shortly after my father, leaving me to manage the US-based businesses on my own.”
“They went back to Russia? Was the US mob corruption too much for them?”
“Eileen!” My father scolds me, but Sergei just laughs.
“I’ll be honest, Eileen, it’s refreshing to meet a woman like you,” he says.
“She’s one of a kind, isn’t she?” my father adds.
Ciara rolls her eyes. “So, when’s the wedding? It can’t be too close to mine.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” I mutter.
Sergei shrugs. “We’re just sitting down for tea. I’m sure Eileen doesn’t want to be rushed into a life-altering event.”
His Russian accent is slightly more pronounced than my captor’s. I spent the single most incredible night of my life with that man, and I don’t know his name.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I say. “People need to get to know each other better before they marry, right?”
“Oh, I have no doubts about the marriage part. Ronan gave me his word, and I gave mine. It’s happening. But I want it to happen as smoothly and as beautifully as possible, so we can both enjoy our wedding day and the years to follow,” Sergei replies.
My stomach is riddled with knots. Why does he make me feel so uneasy?
There’s something beneath this pleasant surface of his. A dark shadow that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t see myself spending the rest of my life with this man. I barely see myself spending another hour in his company, but the dance must go on, per my father’s order.
“When does Ciara wish to marry?” Sergei asks Dad.
“We haven’t decided yet,” Ciara says. “Before the end of this year, for sure. So you two can get married next summer or maybe next winter.”
“Thank you so much,” I reply, not skimping on the sarcasm.
She gives me a hard look, but she cannot hit back, not without drawing Daddy’s ire.
“We’ll have plenty of time to make our own arrangements,” Sergei says, glancing my way. “You’re more beautiful than what I saw in the magazines, Eileen.”
“What magazines?” I ask, somewhat befuddled. “I’ve become quite adept at avoiding cameras, in general.”
“ Elite Monthly maybe?” Ciara suggests. “I think that’s the last time my sister actually sat down for a photography session.”
“It could be. My assistant did a wide internet search as soon as Ronan reached out with his marriage suggestion,” Sergei replies, then looks at me again. “Beautiful, indeed.”
I lower my gaze. “Thank you.”
“Eileen here isn’t exactly camera-friendly, but she’s whip-smart and insanely ambitious,” Ciara says. “If you want to make her happy, buy her food, books, and that lovely commercial space up on Huron Boulevard.”
“A commercial space?”
“She’s just kidding,” I say and laugh nervously.
My father gets up. “Well, thank you for coming by today, Sergei. Shall we move to my office to iron out the details of this marriage then?”
“Shouldn’t I be a part of that conversation?” I ask, every goddamn alarm bell ringing in my head as I look up at them.
“Oh, it’s nothing to concern yourself with, Eileen. This is the business side of the arrangement,” he replies.
“And I’ve got a fitting to get to,” Ciara stands, perky and bright-eyed.
“You don’t even have a wedding date,” I mumble.
“What can I say? I’m excited!”
Sergei chuckles softly. “You have yet to tell me the name of your betrothed, Ciara.”
“It’s not something we wish to publicize just yet—” my father is about to explain, but my sister cuts him off with the enthusiasm of a little girl who just stumbled into the land of endless candy.
“I’m marrying Anton Karpov!”
For a moment, I can almost feel the air in the room shifting. The darkness that settles over Sergei’s face is brief but telling. Whoever this Karpov dude is, Sergei clearly hates his guts. It’s the first time I see a crack in his mask, and it’s unsettling.
“Congratulations are in order then,” he says, his tone flat.
Perhaps these wedding deals that Daddy made might not turn out the way he hoped.
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END OF PREVIEW