Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“What’s going on with your family? Why is everyone so distant with each other?” I ask. The questions slipping out before I can stop them. I’ve been wondering all evening after seeing how detached they all seem.
Nikolai raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t seem offended by the question. Instead, he sighs and takes a sip of his wine before answering.
“Well, money does that to you,” he says with a wry smile.
I blink in confusion, and he elaborates.
“The family was ripped apart when my father and Ivan got into a bitter feud. It was so bad they refused to be in the same room together. Sadly, they both made us choose sides.”
“I see,” I say slowly. “Did you pick a side?”
He shook his head, and I can see the pain behind his easygoing demeanor. “No, Ivan picked it for me. He cut me off so my father wouldn’t hate me too.”
I listen quietly, my heart aching for Ivan as he continues.
Nikolai’s expression darkens. “I’ve been trying to get along with the family ever since, but it’s pretty impossible. As for Ivan and Natalia... well, they used to be close. Very close. But when things got ugly Natalia made her choice. And she chose my father. Can’t blame her, my father is a very rich man.”
I take it in, feeling like I’m finally beginning to understand the fractured dynamics at play here. It’s no wonder Ivan is so closed off. He’s been walking this tightrope between his family and his own ambitions for years, and it’s clear that no one has made it easy for him.
Nikolai nods. “That’s our story. What’s yours? You’re not Ivan’s usual type.”
“What’s his usual type?”
He smiles suddenly. “How do you say it in America? Bimbo?”
I smile. “Ah.”
The music changes in the background into a fast tune. Nikolai grins and offers me his hand. “Care for a dance?”
I hesitate, glancing around at the guests, the family.
“Come on,” he urges. “You have to dance when you are in France.”
I look into his eyes and I see no malice, no ulterior motive, no sexual come-on. Nikolai is just a nice guy and he means no harm. Maybe I can help mend the rift between him and Ivan. I take his hand and let him lead me towards the merrymakers.
He is a great dancer and I find myself relaxing, even laughing a little. It’s a strange contrast to everything I’ve been feeling, but it’s a welcome distraction. As the song ends, Nikolai twirls me one last time, grinning down at me.
“See? That wasn’t so bad.”
But before I can reply, a cold voice interrupts us. “Mind if I cut in?”
“Papa,” Nikolai exclaims in shock, and immediately steps back. I stare at Ivan’s father curiously.
His tone leaves no room for refusal, and Nikolai literally scuttles away like a frightened rabbit, and I’m left staring into Ivan’s mortal enemy. He looks a bit like an older version of Ivan, but his presence is commanding, almost chilling, like that of a general, and I feel a wave of nervousness wash over me as he takes my hand formally.
“It is good that my son has picked a girl that can waltz.”
My eyebrows rise with surprise.
“What exactly is your relationship with my son?”
My heart pounds in my chest. Everyone keeps asking me this question. “We’re... we’re just having a… casual relationship,” I say, but the words feel strange on my tongue. The more I say them the more I hate saying them.
He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “If it were casual, he wouldn’t have brought you here.”
He doesn’t know about the nature of our relationship, our arrangement, and I’m not the person to enlighten him.
I clear my throat. “I’m his real estate agent,” I explain lamely. “We... sort of became friends.”
He nods, but I can’t tell if he believes me. He lapses into silence and I can’t think of a single thing to say either. When the song ends, he releases me with a curt nod.
“Goodnight, Miss Fitzpatrick.” Then he’s gone, almost as if he was a figment of my imagination.
Chapter Forty-Five
IVAN
To my shock, I look out of the window and see the astonishing sight of my father dancing with Lara. For one wild irrational second, I want to run to them and push his poisoned hands away, but a strange wave of emotion washes over me and I stare at them. The truth is I love my father. When I was growing up he was the person I most dearly loved and admired in the whole world. And even after we fell out and he tried to crush me and made my family choose between him and me, I still couldn’t bring myself to hate him.
It is a laughable idea to even think for a moment he will try to poison Lara or ask her to choose between him and me. I watch them curiously. My father is a good dancer and he leads her well. As for Lara, she carries herself brilliantly. A warm glow fills my chest. The dance ends. My father walks away and I see her head back towards the house.