Page 35 of Marrying the Silver Fox

Fuck it. I am his wife now, aren’t I? That’s what he keeps telling me. So, if I have a suggestion for him, then the least he can do is hear me out.

I slope along the corridor toward his office and lean in the doorway. He’s staring down at some papers in front of him, a heavy furrow in his brow.

“Nikolai?”

His head snaps up, and his eyes flicker as they lock onto mine. I can’t tell if he’s happy to see me or not. I get the feeling that it might lean more toward the latter, given everything that has happened between us since we arrived here.

“What is it?”

“Can I come in?”

He looks somewhat surprised that I’m bothering to ask him. I’m still figuring out how I fit into this life of his, what precisely he expects of me, but I guess playing by his rules is the best way to get him to listen to me.

“Sure,” he replies, rising to his feet and pulling out a chair for me.

His hand brushes across my shoulders as I sit down, and I feel that now-familiar little flutter in my chest that comes every time he’s this close to me. I know I shouldn’t entertain it, not really, but it’s hard not to when it feels so damn good.

“I…I overheard the conversation you were having when I came out of the kitchen,” I tell him, cocking my head to the side. “I didn’t mean to listen in, but I couldn’t help it.”

“Right,” he replies, brow rising slightly. I can tell he doesn’t entirely believe what I’m saying right now, but at least he’s hearing me out on this.

“And, look, I’m not saying that I know a lot about how all of this works,” I admit. “But the way that guy was talking, it sounds like the man you’re trying to buy this property from probably only wants to sell it to someone who they feel actually has some real investment in it.”

Nikolai leans back, resting his hands on his stomach. “How so?”

“Like, it’s a family business,” I explain. “And if he’s spent his whole life working there, he doesn’t want to just hand it over to some faceless person who he’s never met before. He has an emotional attachment to it. And he wants to be able to put a face to a name before he sells it to you, at least.”

He eyes me for a long moment, considering. I can tell he’s not entirely convinced by what I’m saying, so I go on.

“Think about your grandmother’s business,” I remind him. “You think she would have been happy to just give it over to someone who she had no idea about? Someone who could do anything with it?”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“It’s not a guarantee,” I reply, leaning forward. “But I think if you meet with him, he’ll probably be quicker to consider the possibility of working together. Put a face to a name, you know, that kind of thing.”

I can see his mind racing as he listens to me. I’m not certain that he puts any real stock in what I’m saying, but at least he’s willing to hear me out, and that’s about as much as I can hope for right now.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’ve worked with these family businesses before,” I explain. “And they’re always more willing to entertain taking a booking with someone who actually feels like a human to them, you know? Not just a random name on a piece of paper that they’re handing over their life’s work too.”

Finally, I see some sense of understanding pass over his face. He nods. “You know,” he says, “I think you might be onto something. I’ll arrange a meeting with him, see if that’s enough to get this thing moving.”

I smile. Finally. It’s good to feel as though I’m being useful again, even if it’s just giving him a little advice on his business. Maybe if I can make a better case for myself, I can convince him that it’s worth entertaining me on other matters too.

“You know,” I continue, trying to keep my voice casual. “If you…if you wanted more advice on anything. Help with anything like this. I’d be happy to give it to you. Maybe I could sit in on a few of your meetings, or…”

Even as I speak, I can practically see his face snapping shut in front of me, the brief glimpse of practicality vanishing just as swiftly as it started. He rises to his feet. “I appreciate your help,” he replies, voice taking on a harsher edge. “But this business isn’t the kind of thing you can just walk into. Nor should you be concerning yourself with something like that.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, fists balling in my lap. God, just when I felt like I was getting somewhere. “Nikolai,” I protest. “You can’t just keep me here all the time with nothing to do. I have skills, let me use them, please⁠—”

He rises to his feet, nodding to the door behind me. “I think you should go.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

My heart sinks to my shoes and I get to my feet, knowing that there’s no arguing with him. I can tell when a matter should be left alone, and this, it seems, needs to be given some space to breathe before I can get anywhere with him.

“Fine,” I reply, my voice tight. “But I could be useful here, Nikolai. If you let me.” I fix my gaze on him one last time before I turn to storm out of the office, ignoring the knot of frustration in my chest.

I’m not sure what it’s going to take to get this man to see that I’m actually capable of more than he gives me credit for—but the longer this goes on, the harder it is to believe that there’s anything on the other side of this but the heavy weight of how little he seems to think of me.