12
ADRIK
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asks Stefan.
I look across the dining table at him. He’s standing behind the seat of honor, where my father will be sitting in less than fifteen minutes.
And he looks worried.
“Are you doubting me?” I ask.
“Never,” Stefan says. “But I know better than to underestimate your father.”
It’s wrong of me to try and divide Stefan’s loyalties. It doesn’t matter that Stefan is my best friend and right-hand man; my father is still his don.
For now.
“Telling him I’m getting married won’t be enough. He needs to see it. You know that.”
Stefan nods. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. What he’ll see.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, the two of you aren’t exactly… cozy.”
We were pretty cozy this morning. When Emery was between me and the punching bag, all I'd been able to think about was fucking her against it. Letting the weight bounce against her back, driving me deeper into her. How I could take her to the mats and watch her moan in a dozen different reflections at once.
“This isn’t supposed to be a goddamn fairy tale,” I growl.
Stefan snorts. “Ain’t that the truth. You’re not cut out to play Prince Charming.”
“Funny. I was just thinking you’d be perfect as an annoying little imp.”
He flashes that insolent grin he loves so much. Then he starts tapping his chin like he’s about to share some genius thought with the world and we’re all lucky to hear it.
“You’re thinking something,” I mutter. “I fucking hate when you start thinking things.”
“So… you don’t have any feelings for Emery?”
I roll my eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Speaking as the guy who had to find someone who breeds service dogs, had to wrangle a chair lift install team here at six in the morning on a weekend, and then get a dress custom made to Emery’s specifications… Yeah, I’m thinking there’s a chance you like her a teensy bit more than an arranged marriage requires.”
I grit my teeth. “The dog is for Isabella. Are you suggesting I make the little girl suffer for her mother’s defiance?”
“No, but—”
“And the dress is for dinner tonight. Where she will meet my father,” I continue. “Should I let my future wife show up in sweatpants to meet Vadim?”
Stefan sighs. “Not what I’m saying, but—”
“I’m doing what I have to do to make this situation livable, Stefan. Don’t misconstrue this as anything else. It sure as fuck isn’t kindness.”
Stefan steps back and holds up his hands. “Mea culpa. Understood.”
Before I can double down, the door opens and Emery walks in—wearing the dress in question.
It fits her just as well as I knew it would. The black material clings to the gentle curves of her body, pooling around her ankles. Her breasts demand attention, highlighted by the scooped neckline and the spaghetti-thin straps. Across her midsection is a mesh panel with fine boning that cinches in her waist and gives her a flawless hourglass figure.
My hands clench under the table. I’m imagining tightening them around her body—and then her body tightening around my cock.
Stefan whistles. “You look incred—”
“Get out,” I snap at him.
He leaves with that all-knowing smirk on his face. He’s lucky I don’t forcibly remove it. He’s even luckier that I let him leave the room at all after he gives Emery a low whistle on his way out the door.
“Thank you, Stefan,” Emery murmurs. She looks genuinely pleased for a moment.
Until she turns to me.
Bright red lipstick and smoky eye shadow bring out the green in her eyes. Anger might also bring it out. Because she looks absolutely livid.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she hisses as she advances toward me. “I’m not some doll you get to dress up. I’m perfectly capable of choosing my own clothes.”
“As charming as your stained mom jeans are, I thought this dinner might call for something a little nicer.”
“I brought a dress myself.”
I arch a brow. “The one you wore to my party? The one Malcolm picked out for you?”
She presses her red lips together and glances away.
“Mhmm,” I continue. “That’s what I thought.”
“Fuck you,” she spits.
“Perhaps later. If you behave.”
Before she can say anything else, the doors behind her open again. I rise to my feet and move around the table to join Emery just as my father walks through the entrance.
For a second, I think Emery is going to pull away from me. But as soon as she catches sight of my father, she leans closer.
Maybe she’s actually going to listen for once.
Maybe she’ll do what I’ve asked and be a good girl.
Still, it’s worth reminding her. I press a hand to her lower back and lean in close. “Time to choose, kiska,” I whisper in her ear.
She stiffens and pales from head to toe. I bite back a smile. My father eyes us for a single bored second before he shuffles past and takes his seat at the head of the table.
“Are we going to eat or not?’ he asks. “I’m fucking starving.”
I sigh and nudge Emery forward. “Welcome to the family.”
* * *