Page 12 of Merciless Union
“Not yet. Butt sooner or later, they’re going to come out of the woodwork.”
“Keep your ears open. I’ll hold a meeting tomorrow with my father’s advisors and make sure they understand I’m willing to work with them. Hopefully, more will get in line. And George promised to speak to more of them, get them on my side.”
Nik chuckles. “So, how did asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage go?”
I smirk, leaning back in the chair. “It went great. He gladly accepted.”
“And the girl? Did she have any objections?”
“Why would she? She’s gaining prestige for herself and her family. Any mafia girl would clamor for that. She handled it well.” I don’t mention to Nik that I found her tough to read. She wasn’t overly enthusiastic, but she wasn’t cold either. So far, Arina is an enigma. Some things are better kept to myself.
Nik whistles on the other end. “True that. She’d be stupid to say no to you. I hope this marriage helps smooth things over during this time of unsteadiness.”
“Me, too. Me, too.”
After my call with Nik, I think more about Arina. This stunningly beautiful woman who likes to paint and keeps her emotions to herself. Will she be the perfect bride?
Or will she bring even more ruin to my life?
CHAPTER4
Arina
Aweek later, I’m invited to Maxim’s house to meet his family. From there, I’m going wedding dress shopping with his sisters and mother.
All of this is happening so fast, and it’s terrifying.
“Mom, you don’t have to come,” I tell her as we walk out to the car. She’s struggling to stand up straight. I can tell today isn’t one of her better days.
She holds up a hand. “Honey, of course, I’m coming. I should be there when you meet the family you’re joining. Besides, I want to be with you when you try on dresses. It’s a mother’s dream.”
Dad holds the car door open for her and helps her into her seat.
I’m glad my mom is coming, but it’s tough seeing her like this—trying so hard to appear strong when she’s anything but. Her body is going against herself, and I’m not sure how much longer she’ll have.
That’s why I don’t argue with her. I want her there even though it’s hurting her.
I’m nervous about seeing Maxim. We haven’t spoken since the day he came into my life. He was so clinical about it, treating marriage as a business deal. I grew up believing in love. It hurts to know that I’m marrying a man who sees things very differently.
We arrive at the Petrov penthouse after about an hour—New York traffic is no joke.
A man opens the door for us—a butler, by how he’s dressed—and guides us into the living room, where Maxim and his family are seated.
The minute my family steps foot inside the room, all eyes turn to us. It’s a little unnerving—all those piercing blue eyes gazing right at me, judging me.
Maxim stands up. “Welcome.” He offers my father a handshake. “Good to see you, George.”
“You, too.” My father motions to my mother. “You know my wife, Oksana.”
Maxim’s lips tighten as he shakes my mother’s hand. Does he not like her?
“And you remember Arina,” my father says, nudging me forward.
Maxim’s dark blue eyes pin me to my spot. “Of course.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss on my skin. My entire hand tingles. “I could never forget the woman who’s to be my wife.”
He lets go of my hand, leaving me cold.
I’m unsure of what to say, so I awkwardly smile and curtsy. I hear someone snort, though I’m not sure who. I stand up quickly, brushing the skirt of my dress.
