Page 9 of Merciless Union
Marrying me will give her more power than she knows what to do with. Any woman would dream of that.
“What do you think of that?” I ask Arina.
She smiles. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Mr. Petrov. All I need to do is comply.”
I smirk, looking her over. So, she’s hiding some wit from me. I wonder what else I’ll unveil once we’re married.
“Now,” she says, standing up, “I would like to get back to my painting. You interrupted me, and I’d like to finish it.”
“Arina,” George scolds before turning to me. “I apologize on her behalf. I don’t know what’s gotten into my daughter.”
I hold up a hand. “It’s all right.” I meet her gaze head-on. “You may go finish your painting. It was quite beautiful.”
Arina stands still, captured in my gaze. Finally, she turns on her heel, practically running from the room.
So maybe I did get to her after all.
I stand up and walk to the door, George scrambling after. “It was a pleasure meeting with you, George.” I shake his hand. “I look forward to doing more business with you. And if you could put in a good word for me with some of the men you worked with under my father, that would be beneficial.”
George offers me a bright smile, shaking my hand a little too fast and roughly. “Of course, of course. Anything for my boss.”
Before departing, I glance toward the stairs Arina ran up. She really is talented. Shame she’ll have to stop after we’re married. I’ll need her focused on business, not hobbies.
Once I’m home, Kira immediately runs into my arms, hugging me before I’m even through the doorway of my penthouse apartment. “Why did you leave so soon after the funeral? I needed you,” she sobs into my chest.
I comfort her, tucking her head into my chest, and scan the room above her head. Decorated in a classical, warm style, my home is made cozier by being broken up into separate rooms rather than the open concept style popular today. My parents bought the penthouse back in the ‘80s, and my family has lived here ever since. I’ll inherit it fully after my mother dies.
“Kira.” I stroke her back, pulling away. “I needed to conduct some business.” I glance at her outfit and note she’s still in the black dress from the funeral. “Why don’t you change and have a bath. It’ll probably make you feel better.”
She sniffles, nodding.
“Ok, good. I’m sorry I left you right after the funeral. But I really did need to handle some business.”
“What business?” Elena asks, walking down the hallway.
No point in keeping it a secret. “Marriage business.”
She raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Marriage business?”
“Who’s getting married?” my mother asks as she strolls out of the living room in heels. My mother, ever since I was a child, has always worn heels inside the house. She claims it makes her seem more powerful—if her feet are tough, so is all of her. It does make her more intimidating; I’ll give her that.
I glance around at the women in my life. “Well, since everybody is here … Where’s Alexei? He still hasn’t come home?”
Mother rubs her temple. “No. That boy is off doing who-knows-what with who-knows-who.”
“I’ll deal with Alexei when he gets home,” I growl. “He needs to learn that he doesn’t get to act like this, especially with Father being gone.”
Kira cries harder. She never got the brunt force of our father’s hate, so she had the most capability to love him. His death is hitting her hard.
I squeeze her shoulder. “Let’s go into the living room, and I’ll explain where I was.”
Once we’re settled, I clear my throat, looking at each of them directly before saying, “I’m getting married.”
Kira’s eyes widen, Elena looks bored, and my mother’s face remains frozen.
“To whom?” my mother finally asks.
“Arina Smirnoff.”
