I stack the papers. “It says various.”
Once I’ve explained the living situation to her and what she’s doing, I confirm we’re engaged and leave. I’m left with a slightly bitter taste in my mouth that she clearly hates me so much. I should accept my losses and move on. I still don’t know if I’m making the right choice. Should I have ignored her call? Ignored her statement? Let her run away?
That baby would always have a claim to my throne, and I don’t think she understands it is a throne with the power I hold in Vegas.
I go to my private office and sit there for a moment, working out what I want to do, but I can reach no conclusion.
I’m attracted to her. The quiet, reserved, fearful girl is a mask that she has hidden behind for so long that she’s forgotten she has a feisty spirit. Something must have happened that broke her. Something must have happened that forced her to put on this mask and never take it off. She’s beautiful and attractive. She’s got some fighting spirit, even if she’s in conflict within herself over whether or not she should use it. The defiance is ever present, and it attracts me more to her. People try to be defiant with me, but for once, I can’t just make the person go away. No, instead, I have to marry her.
My mother is going to be so pleased when I announce at dinner tonight that I’m getting married, but probably not quite as pleased that we’re expecting a baby already. Okay, she definitely won’t be happy about the baby being conceived before the wedding, but she will be happy one of her sons is starting a family and that it’s the one that has to continue the family name.
I leave after working for an hour. I can’t be late, I may be the head of this family, but I’m sure my mother will whoop my ass if I make them wait for dinner.
It seems feisty women in my life are a thing.
I drive myself there this time, instead of taking a driver. She lives about an hour away from me. In fact, all my immediate family and some extended stay within an hour of my estate or even closer. I am let in automatically, and I pull up to her modest two-story home. She has a lot of land because she likes gardening and growing her own vegetables. She says it keeps her young.
I park next to Luka’s Porsche and get out. I’m only in slacks, a golf shirt, and a sweater. I rub my hand over my beard. She’s going to moan again that I haven’t been to the barber to trim it down.
I walk in. “Hello? Mamochka?”
“We’re already at the table. You’re late,” Luka calls out from the room nearby.
“Luka, stop giving your brother a hard time,” my mother scolds my little brother, even though everyone knows he’s her darling angel who is absolutely perfect. “Kervyn, come and sit down. We are going to pray and then start dinner.”
I sit at the head of the table, the opposite side of where my father would sit. We join hands, and my mother says a prayer in Russian for our food.
“I have news,” I say as we start to tuck into the succulent roast. “Mamochka, I am engaged, and my fiance is with child.”
My brothers all look at each other while my mother looks at me sternly over her glasses, I can see she’s torn over how she feels. “Oh, Kervyn, you are not married, what kind of woman gets pregnant before being married. It isn’t right. We can marry you before the child is born. Oh, my son.” She gets up and comes to me, shakily taking my face in her hands and kissing my face all over. “This is wonderful news. When can I meet her.”
She sits back down, and I smile. “As soon as I know you won’t kill her for getting pregnant mama,” I switch to a less formal tone. “I am sure you will like her. She’s red-haired and full of zest.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Danil comments, looking at me as he piles food on his fork. “She’s certainly not someone I would pick for you. So meek and quiet, not someone who can be the queen of an empire such as ours.”
I smirk. “I prefer them feisty, and she has that even if she tries to hide it from me. Ask Luka, she’s defiant as…” I pause, not wanting to swear in front of Mother. “Ask anyone. As a usual red-head.”
“And she’s curvy.” Luka grins. “I do love a curvy girl.”
“When will you get married, Luka?” Arseny asks, smiling. “Before Mama goes to the grave, I hope.”
“Arseny, don’t speak to your brother like that,” My mother scolds him, “Or I’ll put you over my knee.”
I turn back to Danil. “I saw it in the club, and I’ve seen it in my interactions with her these last few days. She is queen material.”
Danil nods. “I trust your judgment, Kervyn. I just don’t trust strangers to our family, especially ones that aren’t Russian like us.”
“She’s not Russian?” My mother swings around to look at me. “Is she American?”
“Yes, Mama, she’s American,” Luka says proudly.
“Lord be with me. I don’t like American girls, they like to trap men for their wealth. At least she isn’t an Italian.” My mother pulls a face. The Bratva and the Italian mafia have been at odds since the dawn of the families, so this doesn’t surprise me. No Italian would be welcome in our family.
“You know, Kervyn,” Arseny says around a mouthful of potato, “if you’re not careful, you might actually fall in love and become all sappy.”
I scoff. “Hardly. But she is pregnant with my child, and you will all respect her, do you hear me?”
They all mumble their agreement, and I smile. We begin discussing our lives again, avoiding business because my mother never did like it when my father discussed business at the table.
Afterward, we share a warm drink before I listen to my mother complain about some things that need to be taken care of around the house.
“I will send the maintenance man around to do all these things, Mama,” I say as I get ready to leave. “Don’t worry, you just tell him what you want done, okay?”
“Is it that nice Ivan boy?” she asks. “He’s cute to look at.”
“I didn’t need to know that, Mama.” I smile and kiss her forehead.
I bid my brothers farewell and leave, going back home. It’s quite late when I get back, and when I walk to my room, I pause when I hear a strange sound.
I listen carefully. It’s Penny. I can hear her crying in bed and am instantly irritated. I know it isn’t an ideal situation, but seriously, she’s going to have the best life can offer, and so will our child. He’s practically royalty.
I walk back to my office and decide to work while she gets it out of her system. I summon Leon at the same time, and when he comes, I ask him about her exploring.
“She was fine until we got to the main art room,” he explains. “She said something about creativity is about freedom, and she’ll never have that again, and then she just started blubbering. It could just be hormones, sir.”
I sigh and shake my head. “I am not that bad to work for, am I, Leon?”
Leon shakes his head. “Not at all, sir, though she isn’t an employee.”
