Page 32 of The Darkness is Calling

I fell into my own trap, and that proved he is an opponent worthy of his reputation.

And for the first time, I want the time before the wedding to pass faster, just so I can escape the presence of the man who gestures for me to step through the door he politely opens for me.

Fortunately, dinner is more relaxed thanks to his brothers.

More precisely, the youngest, who seems like the most cheerful and relaxed of the three.

Yaroslav has inherited the same solemn expression as his middle brother, but at least he can ask civilized questions, and I do not think he is quite as eager with death threats.

Who am I kidding?

I have heard too many horrific things about them to be convinced that even Sasha’s bright smile hides a lethal dose of madness.

Like a respectful guest that I was reminded to be, of course, I say nothing.

I prefer to enter their pleasant little masquerade and remember myself the reason we are all sitting at this table: because our fathers made an agreement.

To sell my soul to a man I will never love, even if he seems to have developed some love for me.

“Katya, why aren’t you wearing your engagement ring? Is it ugly?”

The award for most talkative dinner member goes to... Sasha!

At least he is trying to break the silence floating around the table full of delicious food, even though his question makes me feel a little awkward.

But his oldest brother’s deep voice cuts in right away, scolding him.

“Aleksandr.”

“I was just curious,” he defends himself with an innocent look.

“It’s fine,” I tell Yaroslav with a comforting smile, then look back at the youngest brother. “It’s not ugly. It’s just too big, and it bothers me when I play the piano, so I decided not to wear it for now.”

A brief silence falls before he asks another question.

“How did your passion for piano begin?”

This is an easy one.

“I was six when my father brought me a piano.”

“And you loved it so much you started lessons?”

I stop moving my fork through my food and take one extra second to decide whether to tell the truth or not.

“I didn’t like it at all at first, and I hated the teacher,” I admit without sugarcoating it.

He looks at me, confused, but he is not the only one. Apparently, my answer makes all of them stop eating and look at me while they wait for an explanation.

“It was the image my father wanted for me. A princess must know how to play the piano and be graceful like a ballerina,” I add, deepening my voice just enough to imitate, rather poorly, my father’s deep tone.

I shrug and force a smile in their direction, especially Artem’s.

“In the end, isn’t that what we all do? Follow our fathers’ orders?”

My question does not seek an answer, which is exactly why silence settles between us again.

Until Pakhan himself decides to speak for the first time since we walked down the stairs together and sat at the table.