Natalya
Mikhail is waiting at the door as the car pulls up, even though it’s almost midnight.
My brow furrows as Popov opens the car door and I slip out. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”
He shrugs. “I wanted to greet you.”
“Surely you should be out drinking and partying for your last night as a bachelor.”
His eyebrow arches. “Don’t you think I’ve done enough of that over the years?”
I do indeed believe that he’s done his fair share of partying, which is why I’m glad he’s finally settling down. It means that he might have a child, an heir who can take over instead of me. We both know that I was never really going to be a viable option to lead the Gurin Bratva, and I’m fine about that.
“Probably,” I say, glancing into the house. “Is mother here?”
He shakes his head. “The arrangements were made too fast, and I wasn’t going to postpone my wedding for her. She is in Russia.”
I nod in response, as I can understand why he’s not bothered whether she’s here or not. “How about Yana?”
His jaw clenches. As after the Christmas we had, their relationship has been strained. Yana stupidly sold our family out to the Petrov Bratva of New York, but luckily Mikhail was able to join forces and agree to peace with two other powerful families in Boston to stop Andrei Petrov and his scheming.
“No, I didn’t invite her.”
I sigh heavily. “You know she was acting out of fear for her children, Mikhail.”
He nods. “I do, but I’m not ready to forgive and forget just yet, Natalya.” He gives me a pointed look. “Now stop this whining and come inside. We will have pancakes. You must be hungry from traveling.”
I laugh. “Not really. I had dinner before I left the academy.”
“There’s always room for pancakes, though,” he says.
“Of course.”
I follow Mikhail into the house and feel an odd sense of relief the moment I’m inside. Running from problems doesn’t exactly solve them, but it does feel good to get away.
We turn into the kitchen and I hop onto a stool at the kitchen Island.
Mikhail grabs a frying pan and collects the ingredients out of the fridge, mixing them together in a mixing bowl. It’s strange to see him in the kitchen, cooking.
He used to make me pancakes years ago before our father died, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago.
“When was the last time you made pancakes?”
He shrugs. “I honestly couldn’t say. It was so many years ago.”
I nod in reply. “Do you love Sienna?”
He looks up then as if startled, eyes wide. “Always were blunt with your questions, weren’t you?”
I smile. “Best to get to the point. I hate people who skate around the issue.”
“True.” He sighs and sets down his whisk, grabbing the pan and putting it on the heat. “Of course. I wouldn’t marry her otherwise.”
It makes me happy to hear, even though Mikhail always swore off love. I think he became even more averse to it after he saw how my mom handled our father’s death. It ruined her.
He swallows hard and pins me with a gaze I don’t like. “The truth is, Nat, I’ve arranged your marriage to another boy. Someone you might know, actually.”
My stomach dips and I wonder why he thinks he could get away with it so soon after being blackmailed. “What about the information about our grandfather?”
He shrugs. “I figured it was someone who wants to stop that specific alliance. I’ve entered into an agreement with the Krushev Bratva for you and Nikolai to marry.”
Nikolai Krushev.
My stomach churns with sickness as, although he’s an attractive boy, the idea of sleeping with him makes me sick. He’s cruel and vindictive, much like Alexander.
Sadness spreads through my veins as I laugh humorlessly. “So you get to marry for love? But with me, it’s about the most favorable deal that can be made?” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I ever believed my fate would be any different from my friends.”
“I’m sorry, Nat. I hadn’t intended it this way, but the men have made it clear they won’t follow a woman.” His jaw clenches as I know deep down this isn’t really what he wants. “If I had it my way, you’d be leading this alone and waiting for the love of your life to appear at your door, like I have.”
He flips the pancakes onto a plate and pours more mixture into the pan, cooking them. I’d been so distracted by the news, I hardly noticed him cooking the first batch.
Alexander didn’t like Mikhail arranging my marriage to the Philly Bratva heir, but Nik Krushev will be far worse. It will be like a personal attack, and I know he won’t like it. Yet another problem to deal with.
Mikhail pushes a plate of pancakes over to me and a bottle of maple syrup. I drizzle loads on top and dig in, trying to drown my worries in syrup.
“Let’s not speak of this anymore. It’s not for a while, anyway.” He gives me a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Right. I’m here to celebrate with you, not mope about being forced to marry Nik Krushev.”
“There will be no forcing, Nat. If you really don’t want to marry him, we can find someone else.”
I know Mikhail means well, but my options are limited amongst Russians, and that makes my chest ache. Probably because deep down, I long for a Mexican cartel member who has managed to sink his claws into me so deeply, I don’t know how to get them out.