Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Get along?” my father snaps. I know what he’s like when that vein throbs in his temple. “They’ve overtaken all of Tuscany with their wine. And none of them would take me up on my offer of Harper.”
I stare. I can’t believe he just said that out loud, that he tried to pawn me off on the Rossis and they declined.
A muscle ticks in Aleks’s jaw. Ekaterina stares and Polina’s cheeks flush pink. Recovering, I lift my own wineglass and give Aleks a grin. “Fill ‘er up, husband,” I say loud enough for my parents to hear. Husband. That’s right. HUSBAND. “The truth is, the only reason the Rossis declined was because I was twelve years old at the time, wasn’t I? And they’ve all been married since. Even in Italy, they don’t marry children, do they?”
Ekaterina’s expression grows even more incredulous, if that’s possible. “Younger than in America sometimes, but no, they don’t.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten married that young,” my mother says, her cheeks flushing. “We were only trying to make an arrangement.”
“I’m glad that fell through,” Aleks says. “My win. I’ll have to remind the Rossis about that the next time I visit Boston. Have you met Ivy?”
I nearly spit out my wine.
“Ivy?” My mother asks, paling.
“That’s me,” Ivy says, reaching for a glass of milk I poured for her.
“Ivy, careful—” I warn, but I’m too late. Her little hand knocks the glass over into the glass of wine beside it, sending the liquid in it soaring straight into my mother’s lap. She leaps to her feet with a screech. Aleks has the audacity to snort, but poor Ivy looks like she’s about to burst into tears.
“It’s alright,” I tell her gently. “Accidents happen. You didn’t mean to.”
I reach for a napkin and mop up the milk.
“Leave it,” Aleks says. “Staff will get it. Is she alright?”
Oh God, he’s looking at Ivy with concern. If he starts to care for this little one, I’m going to fall head over heels in love with him. I’m already halfway there.
I nod, but he leans in close to her anyway. “It’s alright. Mama’s right. We don’t cry over spilt milk here.” He winks at me. “Maybe vodka…”
My father stiffens.
Ekaterina ushers my mother away from the table, promising to help her clean up.
Nikko grins at me. “Roll?” he asks, his eyes twinkling. We have a secret, just between the three of us. I can’t fucking wait to get back to that gun. If only my father knew.
“This is your daughter?” my father asks, his eyes boring into mine.
“She is,” I say proudly, my chin lifted high.
“It’s a shame you didn’t tell me before negotiations what Harper brought to the table,” Aleks says. He takes a platter of sliced chicken and puts a piece on our plates before serving himself, then handing it to his brothers. “The Romanov family is in dire need of expansion. Harper has a child.”
“What’d Mikhail say to that?” Viktor asks, passing a large bowl of salad around the table.
“Jealous,” Aleks says with a grin. My father shakes his head, confused and obviously furious, but doesn’t respond.
Despite my resolve, I feel the weight of my father’s disapproving glare. It’s been too long. I’ve been on the receiving end of his vicious temper too many times and need more distance than I’ve had thus far. The silent indictment of my choices burns me.
“It’s a pity,” he says, helping himself to another glass of wine. “In our family, we uphold the sanctity of marriage. We discourage those who bring children into the world without a proper family in place.”
The table falls silent. I can’t believe he dared to bring his hatred and prejudice here and display them, right in front of my husband and his family. My cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment. I look down at Ivy, who’s thankfully unaware she’s the subject as she happily munches a buttered roll.
Aleks places his fork down and leans on the table. I open my mouth to say something, to protest, but he gives a gentle shake of his head. He’s right — anything I say my father will dismiss. Addressing him needs to come from Aleks.
“A proper family,” Aleks says calmly, even as his eyes burn with fire, “is not defined by societal approval and most definitely not by you. It’s built on love, respect, and the courage to stand by each other no matter what.”
My father’s eyes narrow on him. “Well said for someone who heads a mongrel family. We all know who you are and how your father piecemealed street orphans together to structure his ‘family.’”
Aleksandr’s eyes narrow right back at my father. “You’ll leave my late father out of this. Harper has shown more strength and integrity than those I’ve met who hide behind the facade of tradition. She is not alone, and I stand by her and her child unquestioningly.”