With This Ring

It was a sight to behold indeed, given that for the latter part of the last two decades they hated each other so much they couldn’t even bear to be in the same room together. I slipped my hands in my pockets and stood before both of them.

“How are the wedding arrangements coming?” her father asked.

“I believe that question will be more suited for your daughter, Sir,” I answered. “She seems to have a mind of her own.”

“A mere woman with a mind of her own?” my father scoffed.

“She is no mere woman, she probably has a stronger mind than any of us here.”

There was a sour look on Igor’s face. “My daughter is like a highly-strung horse. She just needs a firm hand.”

“What exactly is the problem here?” my father asked with a frown.

“I think it’s best if you hear from her yourself,” was my response. “No one speaks for Freya.”

Then I continued on my way towards the study where I poured myself a generous amount of whisky. It calmed my nerves, but did very little to take my mind off the girl in the kitchen. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with me and that alone made her unique.

I went to stand by the window. Outside the garden was lit with many lights. The water drops from the waterfall sparkled like diamonds.

At that moment I wanted her so badly I could feel it burning inside me. The fire inside of me I wanted to burn inside her too, but then I thought of my bad-tempered father coming face to face with the tigress he had called a mere woman.

I downed the rest of my drink and frowned. If I was not careful there was a very real possibility this marriage would be called off before the night was over.

Chapter Twenty-One

Freya

“So what date have you and Maxim decided to set for the wedding?”

I choked on the honey cake that had been sliding down my throat, and had to hit my chest for some relief before I lifted my gaze to meet the hard, cold eyes of Mr. Ivankov.

Say what now, or something else equally irreverent sounded in my head, but I noted the watchful, cautious gaze of my father, and decided to tread carefully.

“I … uh.” I looked at Maxim who had his eyes fixed on me as though in a dare. So, of course, I said exactly what I wanted to. “As a matter of fact I have no plans on marrying Maxim. I’ve relayed this to my father and Maxim, very clearly.”

“Freya!” my father called menacingly.

I dropped my fork and stared my father down. “What? What do you expect from me? You didn’t even have the kindness to tell me that you were bringing me here to make marriage arrangements for me. I thought you wanted me in Moscow to recuperate, after being stabbed just for being seen with Maxim. And now you all want me to marry him?”

“What exactly about my son do you object to?” his father asked.

I looked the Don right in his fierce eyes and felt a sliver of concern at how this would affect my father and his plans, but he hadn’t thought how this would affect my life and my plans so that was his problem to handle. I took a deep breath.

“Your son is a wonderful man. Any woman who gets him should consider herself very lucky, but I just don’t want to get married,” I replied, “to anyone.”

“Every woman must get married,” he said, a perplexed frown on his broad forehead. “Every woman must have a man by her side, to provide for her, to protect her—”

“Well, I was right in front of Maxim when I was attacked and he couldn’t do anything about it. I could have died that day!”

At my accusation everyone and everything stopped moving. Even the manservant who had been serving us had to remind himself to resume after my fiery accusation that the family’s top dog was inadequate.

I glanced at Bianca. She had her head down. Levan looked as if he was amused by my outburst. Maxim’s father just stared at me as though I had horns on my head. But my father looked like he wanted to burn me alive.

My eyes moved reluctantly to Maxim. He was expressionless.

I began to suspect then that I might be burying myself into some sort of grave here so I quickly rose to my feet to take my leave.

“Sit down!” my father roared furiously. The whole room seemed to shake.

Out of respect for him and a gnawing fear that I had gone too far, I did as I was asked, but I folded my arms across my chest defiantly and waited for him to try to threaten me. For the first time in my life I was ready to defy him. What was he going to do to me? I was dependent on him for absolutely nothing so short of tying a noose around my neck and dragging me to the altar, how was he going to get me to do what he wanted?