Page 33 of The Councilor

“Ouch,” Vadim said under his breath.

“What the hell is a Pakhan anyway?” I knew I shouldn’t have tossed it out there, but I wasn’t into this to make points of any kind.

Vadim leaned forward. I wasn’t certain if he was trying to put the fear of God into me or what, but his aftershave was just as powerful as Aleksander’s was. I also noticed a ring on his finger. That surprised me. I wasn’t certain why it should, but I suspected it was the single reason I wasn’t marrying the ruthless man.

“I completely understand this is a difficult situation for you, Raphaella. However, Aleksander is by far a better man than I am. To answer your question, I’m required to be merciless in every aspect of my life and business.”

“Including with your wife?”

“Enough, Raphaella. The man does command respect.” Aleksander’s words were terser than usual.

“If you think you’re headed into marriage with a woman who won’t stand up to you, you’re sorely wrong.”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Vadim said. “Questions and accusations I’m used to. My wife, the lovely Caroline, changed my world. She happens to be one of my daughter’s best friends. While that may seem disgusting to you, she has the rule of the house and in truth, my life. But don’t tell my enemies my little secret.”

I could see real love in his eyes and softened.

Slightly.

There was no way I could feel the same way with Aleksander. Especially since I couldn’t trust him.

I sat back in my seat again, refusing to open my mouth. Time alone would do me some good.

They chatted about several things as the ride continued, but none that included aspects of their business. The drive took longer than I’d thought, Aleksander’s estate far removed from the city. I was shocked at how incredible the area was, the houses large but certainly not the mansion style my father had insisted on purchasing.

The houses weren’t exactly colonial but had huge wraparound porches and mostly white or light clapboard siding that allowed for colorful doors and shutters. The unique streetlights and the way homeowners kept their front outside lights on allowed me to see the incredible views. The streets were lined with sidewalks and trees, every lawn manicured but not coiffed to the point they didn’t look inviting. I could almost see raising a family here.

God. What was I saying?

“What do you think?” Aleksander asked.

“I would have thought you’d have a fancy condominium in the city.” Or a dungeon. That thought gave me a smile.

“Oh, I have one of those too as well as a townhouse in Brighton Beach, but this neighborhood is my home.”

Home. I wasn’t certain I could ever feel that way. Yet when the driver pulled onto a driveway, I couldn’t help but believe this was the prettiest house on the block. My reaction must have created amusement.

“I think she believed I owned a dungeon,” Aleksander said to the entire back of the vehicle.

“Oh, my guess is you do.” My retort was followed by another snort from Vadim. Maybe the man could read minds too.

“She’s got your number.”

The driver stopped and another moment of anxiety rushed in. I knew all the protocols in the world and the driver was quickly out of the car, the passenger soldier as well, opening our doors. He even offered me a hand, helping me out. Seeing two rocking chairs and a swing hanging from the front porch ceiling was captivating.

Disturbing.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Or in the next couple of days. Enjoy, my friend. Getting married is a huge event in anyone’s world.” Vadim was talking to Aleksander.

“Yeah, we will. I have that trial to finish and I might take a couple days off.”

“Don’t do so on my account,” I told him before I tromped up the porch stairs. There were even flowers in stunning flowerpots. I had to reach down and touch them to believe they were real.

They were and very colorful. I doubted he had a green thumb in his body, but I allowed myself to be impressed.

I dropped my bag by the front door, walking to the end of the front porch, marveling at the clean, simple architecture. I finally heard a noise, realizing he was opening the door. He didn’t ask this time, taking my duffle inside.

“Come on, Raphaella. This doesn’t have to be something you hate.”