Page 113 of Mile High Ex's Brother

Page List
Font Size:

Arkady clears his throat. “A strong family needs directness.”

“Then you must be thrilled.”

Papa decides at that point that I have had enough liberty. He steps half in front of me, smoothly reclaiming the conversation, talking to Arkady now about old ties, trusted names, mutual interests, and all the other phrases men use when they want to arrange lives without ever admitting that’s what they are doing.

I stand there smiling faintly and say almost nothing, which makes Arkady like me more.

That’s the worst part.

The less I speak, the more he seems to imagine softness where there is only restraint. I catch him looking at my ring finger once, then at my father, then at the children across the room.

Alliance,I think.You old snake.

Papa is frustrated Roman left.

So now he’s shopping.

By the time Arkady finally kisses the air near my cheek and promises they will speak again soon, I’m one insult away from chewing through my own wrist to escape.

The second he’s gone, I turn to Papa.

“No.”

He doesn’t pretend not to understand. “You embarrassed me.”

“I saved us all time.”

“He’s interested.”

“I noticed. He looked at me like a man examining horseflesh.”

Papa’s face hardens. “You’re no longer in a position to be difficult.”

The words hit my like a slap.

I lower my voice. “If you try to marry me off to that man, I will poison his soup.”

“Katerina.”

“No, really. I will. Slowly if I have to.”

He looks at me for a long moment.

Then, in a tone so calm it almost passes for kindness, he says, “You should count your blessings.”

I stare at him.

Papa’s eyes move over me, and I know exactly what is coming a second before he says it.

“You’re not a girl anymore,” he says. “You have two children, no husband, and you’ve let yourself go.”

I hear every word clearly.

Papa continues, low enough that no one else can hear.

“You were soft before. Now you’re fat, difficult, and carrying scandal like perfume. The fact that I convinced a man like Arkady Belov to consider you at all is not an insult. It’s a favor.”

My father has always known how to hurt me without raising his voice.