Page 5 of Claimed in Sin
Filipp walks me to the door and we step inside together. My father is in the study with the door open. I can hear his voice talking quietly to Maksim, and both of them sound like old friends talking casually. I can't make out what they're saying, but there's only one reason for the man to be here.
I stop in the hallway and take a breath. Filipp puts his hand in the small of my back and guides me forward.
"There she is." My father stands when I enter the study. He's still wearing his suit and tie, though the tie is loosened, and he doesn't bother to smile when I walk in. Any fondness between usvanished when he made it clear that my marriage to Orlov wasn't a choice but an order.
Maksim rises from the leather armchair near the window and smiles at me, but the smile is shallow, not reaching his eyes. He's dressed more casually, no tie, a leather jacket open in the front, and faded, torn jeans that better suit a man his age. He's handsome, but he's no Stepan. That thought makes my body feel like lead as I walk across the room with six eyes locked on me.
"Marina." He takes both of my hands in what should be an intimate gesture, but it's completely impersonal. He holds me at arm's length and looks at my face, my hair, my coat, as though checking that nothing has been damaged in transit. These aren't the eyes of a man seeing a woman he finds intoxicating. "You look lovely."
"Thank you, Maksim. I didn't know you'd be visiting tonight." The warm blush I felt on my cheeks as Stepan noticed me is distinctly absent now. Maybe it's because I've heard Maksim's compliments for years, or maybe I never felt that when he looked at me. My body came alive when Stepan flirted. I liked that feeling.
"Your father and I had some things to discuss. I thought I'd wait and say hello."
He says it as though he's doing me a favor. As though his presence in my home at this hour is a gift I should appreciate. I smile and let him hold my hands for a beat longer, then I ease away and sit on the sofa across from my father's desk.
"How was your evening?" my father asks as he takes his seat again. I hear the undertone in his voice that indicates he's wondering whether their plan worked out or not. It's sort of adelicate transaction taking place right in front of Maksim, about which he has no knowledge.
Yes, it made an impression, but not how he wanted it to. I saw the strength of the Kuzin operation but I also saw a man take notice of me. A man whose good looks rival anything Maksim has, though I doubt his pocketbook is lined quite so nicely as Maksim's.
"Fine," I say. "It was very educational." I rest both of my hands on my knees as Maksim comes to sit beside me. Filipp stands beside my father's desk and the permanent glower etched on his face grows darker. I'm saying the right things but he sees right through me. I couldn’t care less.
"Good." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Maksim has been generous enough to come by and discuss the timeline. We've been talking about the details, and I think it's time we bring you into the conversation."
Bring me in? As though this means I actually get some say. He has informed me more than once that the timetable is about to be moved up, though I haven't heard the details. I was hoping for my twenty-fifth birthday. It'd allow me a chance to enjoy a bit of my life before being enslaved to a man who wants to keep me barefoot and pregnant for ten years.
"Of course," I say.
Maksim leans closer, taking my hand. He traces my knuckles with his thumb and smiles at me. I know he wants this smile to seem warm and affectionate, but this man doesn't have an affectionate bone in his body. He doesn't even like me. He's eyeing my father’s suppliers and that hefty ten percent payout on all transactions in exchange for his trade routes.
"Marina, your father and I have been talking about the future of our families—the partnership." I used to enjoy the sound of his voice, but lately, it's grating. "And we both feel strongly that the sooner we formalize things, the stronger our position becomes."
"I agree," I say, because that's what I'm supposed to say. I don't really agree. The Kuzin fight club is rebuilt, yes, but that doesn't mean they're going to be able to force growth that fast in the Radin organization. We have time, more time than these men around me are trying to force me to believe. Maksim wants the money, Papa wants the routes... That means a hasty shot-gun wedding and one very unhappy daughter. But I plaster a smile because if I don’t, I'll hear about it the instant Maksim leaves.
"Now," my father says, turning to Maksim. "We'd like to set a date. I'm thinking three weeks from Saturday. We'll do just a small ceremony, family only, and we can begin integrating operations immediately after."
Three weeks? I almost scoff out loud, but my throat tightens and I feel like someone is choking me. I don't want to be married in three weeks. Just the thought makes my heart explode in my chest as adrenaline shoots through me. Blood rushes to my face, making me hot, and my hands jitter, so I pull away from Maksim.
"Three weeks is too soon." I try to say it as calmly as possible, but it's difficult. This is my entire life, after all, and I should get some say. I'm a grown adult. No one can force me down that aisle without my consent. Can they?
My father's eyes narrow, and if looks could kill, I'd be dead over Filipp's gaze. Maksim tilts his head and watches me with a flicker of curiosity, as though a painting on his wall has suddenly spoken. He's not even going to let that anger behind his eyes outwhen I openly defy their suggestions, but I see it there, taunting me.
"Marina—" my father begins.
"I'm not saying no," I tell him firmly, holding my chin erect despite my roiling emotion. "I'm saying three weeks doesn't give us enough time to do this properly. If we rush this, people will talk. They'll say we're desperate, that we had to move fast because we couldn't afford to wait. Is that what you want people to think?"
It's the right argument. I can see it register on both of their faces. My father's jaw unclenches a fraction, and Maksim's eyebrows lift in reluctant acknowledgment. In their world, perception matters more than reality, and a rushed wedding sends the wrong message. Besides, I'm not interested in rushing.
Every girl wants a dream wedding, and I only get one shot at this. Marriage alliances are always fraught with infidelity and other issues due to their nature, but one thing is certain—they're always permanent. If I'm going to have to bed this weasel and give him heirs while he takes whores and makes me nothing more than an armpiece, I should at the very least get my fairy tale wedding.
"How long will you require?" Maksim asks, and I don't miss the hint of disgust in his eyes. He's not asking because he cares about my wishes. He's still hungry for the payout and the longer we wait, the longer he's tortured by those dollar signs.
"Six months. A late summer wedding." I pause and let myself soften so they see a woman wanting her dream, not a girl dragging her feet. "I've always wanted a summer wedding. Thegardens will be in bloom. We can do it at the estate, make it beautiful, invite everyone. Papa, you have to?—"
My father is shaking his head. "Six months is too long. Every week we wait is a week we're exposed. Roman Kuzin built an empire back from ashes in nine months. Giving him six more months to establish himself in Radin trade would be foolish."
Maksim holds up a hand. "Sergei."
My father stops and scowls at him, and Filipp has all but left the room. He stands staring across the room with a glare on his face that's hardened to near stone. To them, having access to those trade routes means expansion. Without expansion, we will lose customers who may otherwise buy from the Radins. I just don't think the Kuzins are going to be able to rally that quickly. Anton Radin's death shook them, and the chaos that unfolded over the past year nearly wiped them out.
