Page 13 of Beautiful Trauma
Dima once again winced. “Spare me any details of your sex life.”
“You might as well know now in case Father tries to butter up my future husband by proclaiming my virginity.” With a teasing smile, I added, “Or Kira’s.”
Dima’s eyes bulged in horror. “Especially not her!”
“Don’t worry. I gave her a good sex talk as well as getting her an IUD and condoms.”
“Jesus, Mila.”
“Spare me. You know you’d have a completely different reaction if this were Lev or Aleks we were talking about.”
With a scowl, Dima replied, “Whatever.”
As the SUV turned onto a familiar street, my chest clenched. Since Father craved privacy, he lived in a townhome on Delancey St. during the week. On weekends, he went to his horse farm in Villanova where he bred Arabians. Of course, his interests weremore in gambling than the actual horses. After my mother’s death, the horses had been another saving grace outside of my siblings.
When we pulled into the driveway, I tried keeping my emotions in check. The only times I came were for holidays or events. I hadn’t been entirely welcome for years.
As the brick house loomed before me, I fought the rising bile in my throat. All the years of torment at Father’s hands left me with a physical reaction each and every time I was in his presence.
My legs shook slightly when I stepped out of the SUV onto the pavement. Dima reached out to place his hand at my lower back. “Easy,zaika,” he murmured against the shell of my ear.
Instead of giving him a grateful smile or telling him thanks, I pulled my shoulders back and plastered on a fake bravado. “I’m fine.”
I then eased out of his hold and hurried up the front steps. The butler who answered the door frowned at the sight of me before giving a nod to Dima. “Come in, Mr. Korolova. Your father is waiting for you in his study.”
“Thank you, Andrei.”
Dima then ushered me down the hall into Father’s study. At the sound of the door, he rose from his chair. Once upon a time, Father had been a real looker with his jet black hair and ice blue eyes. But years of hard living, cigars, and vodka had robbed him of his handsome appearance.
Always the consummate actress in his presence, I gave him a shit-eating smile. “Good evening, Father.”
He scowled at me. “I see Dima’s talents of persuasion are better than mine.”
With a tight smile, I replied, “It’s hard to ignore an escort.”
While Dima shot me a warning look, Father spat, "Insolent as always.”
Although it pained me, I replied, “My apologies. What is it you wished to see me about?”
“As you know, Annika is engaged to Darragh Kavanaugh.”
At the mention of my older sister, the skin along my back prickled. Tortuous memories of my teenage years assaulted me. After coming to live with my father, all my problems centered around the fact that my stepmother, Faina, loathed me for taking attention away from Annika. She went out of her way to emotionally and physically punish me, which included using a studded belt against my back.
“No, I wasn’t aware of the happy news.”
Father waved a hand dismissively. “While the contracts have been signed, we haven’t formally announced the engagement.”
“She has my congratulations and best wishes,” I replied.
I was surprised Annika had managed to dodge the shackles of an arranged marriage all these years. At twenty-six, she was almost past her prime in our world. I’m sure she’d somehow managed to sweet talk Father into putting it off. Unlike Kira and me, she had Father wrapped around her finger, so she always got her way.
With a grunt, Father said, “I’m afraid it’s too soon for celebrations.” The flame of his lighter flickered as he lit his cigar. After a few puffs, he related, “My last few phone calls and emails to her fiancé have gone unanswered.”
“Perhaps you should have Dima hunt him down like he did me,” I suggested.
Father’s eyes narrowed into fury-filled slits. “You enjoy being a thorn in my side, don’t you?” When I didn’t respond, he slammed his fist on the desk, causing me to jump. “Don’t you?” he blared.
“It was just a joke,” Dima reasoned.
