Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Papa.
I hesitate before answering. This is my honeymoon, after all. What could he possibly want now?
“What?” I snap, not bothering to hide my annoyance at the interruption.
“Good morning, lapushka. How are you feeling today?” His voice manages to be warm and sharp at once, happy yet faintly reproachful.
I take my time considering his question. Should I lie and tell him I’m miserable? Should I tell him I can’t stand my husband and will never forgive him for this? Or do I tell the truth, the truth I barely understand myself? Because so far, being married to Isaac isn’t awful.
“I’m fine,” I mutter at last, too tired and tangled in thought to muster a sharper retort.
“You sound tired,” he says, sympathy threading his voice. I roll my eyes.
“I didn’t sleep much,” I answer before realizing I’m basically telling my father my new husband kept me up last night. This is so not a conversation I want to have.
A knowing hum reverberates through the line, and I roll my eyes again.
“Big day yesterday,” he finally says, his voice a shade too tight.
“It was,” I agree. “Exhausting.”
“Married life can be like that.” He chuckles softly.
I trace the edge of a flower petal near my foot.
“Why did you really do this?” I blurt, done with polite theatrics. I played his game, did my part, the least he can do now is be honest.
There’s a beat of silence.
“I told you,” he says at last. “This marriage brings unity and peace between our families. Thanks to you, Katya, we now have a future without blood feuds. As the next generation, that’s all a father could want for his child.”
“You could have let me choose my own future,” I argue for the millionth time, the resentment bubbling in my chest.
If I can’t be angry at Isaac, I can sure as hell stay angry at my father.
“Isaac is many things,” he continues, “but unkind isn’t one of them. And he has the power to keep you safe, to keep our family safe.”
“I didn’t ask you to keep me safe,” I spit, venom sizzling in every syllable. “I just wanted the chance to choose a life that would make me happy.”
“I’m not having this conversation again, Katya,” he says sternly. “You didn’t have to ask me to keep you safe. That’s my job as your father. It always has been. I’ve done plenty over the years to ensure your safety, things you never even knew about. So don’t start complaining now just because your safety suddenly feels like an inconvenience.”
“You married me off to a stranger!” I spit.
“Well, it looked to me like you two were getting on just fine last night,” he shoots back, his voice calm as death. “Seems to me you should be thanking me for finding you such a nice man.”
I have no response as my cheeks burn. Thank God he can’t see how right he is. Isaac was unbelievably good to me last night, and he is nice, no matter how much I wish he weren’t. Maybe Papa actually knew what he was doing, though I’ll never admit it.
“One more thing,” he adds, not waiting for the answer he knows I don’t have. “If you see or hear anything unusual about rival groups, let me know. We’re one big family now, and it’s our job to make sure the Kozlovs are looked after.”
My head throbs and my heart hammers. Of course he has to bring up business. My feelings are irrelevant next to the needs of the organization. I will always, always come second to him, even the day after my wedding.
I press my fingers to my temple, fighting back tears.
“Of course,” I answer dispassionately. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
“I know you will.”
The call cuts off as abruptly as it began, and I sit for a moment, staring at the flowers swaying in the breeze beyond the patio railing.
Maybe it’s better this way. Nothing I ever did mattered enough to make my father listen to what I wanted. Isaac may still be practically a stranger, but he seems to care at least. I could swear I heard him promise to protect me, though maybe I dreamed it.
“I thought I’d find you out here,” his low voice murmurs behind me.
My spine straightens on instinct, feeling like I’ve been caught. It’s silly, of course. He can’t possibly know that I was sitting out here thinking about him.
I glance over my shoulder. He approaches with his hands in his pockets, his white dress shirt slightly rumpled as if he’s been working, or pacing, or thinking too much, just like me.
“It’s a nice morning. I needed fresh air,” I say, turning away before he can read too much in my eyes.
“We’re not far from the city,” he teases. “The air isn’t that fresh.”
I shrug. “Fresher than inside.”