Page 12 of The Pakhan’s Heir

“What?” she says, setting the menu aside. “Aware of restaurant prices? I wasn’t raised in a slum. I know something about it. I was raised in the same environment as I imagine you were.”

“You were not raised in the same environment as me,” I say. “Your father is Pakhan to the Irkutsks. They are a very different brotherhood from mine.”

“So, what does that mean? Yours is better?”

She’s getting pissed at me. I set my menu aside. “Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. We’re supposed to be getting to know one another.”

She crosses her arms and her breasts jiggle slightly. “I’m not sure exactly what you were expecting, but I’m not some airhead. If you want to get along with me, you can start by treating me like I’m a person.”

My eyes dart down to her tits and she rolls her eyes.

“Let’s be real here, Nona,” I say to her. “I just found out that I’m supposed to get married for the good of my brotherhood. And as pretty and nice as I’m sure you are, I’m not really interested in getting to know you at all.”

“Same,” she says. “You think I want to marry some old man for my father instead of going back to college?”

That stings. Old? “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She’s pouting a little, and strangely, I feel myself start to get hard. The idea of wiping that childish look off her face is enticing.

“In fact,” she says, scooting her chair back and standing, “I think maybe we should call this a night.”

“Sit down, Nona.”

“You can’t tell me⁠—”

“Sit. Down.”

She stares at me, her eyes wide with shock, then she sits.

“I’ll be honest with you,” I say, leaning in. “I don’t care for you. And it’s pretty clear to me that the feeling is mutual. But the reality of this situation is that liking one another is not a requirement for this union. We’re not getting married for love, here, Nona. We’re doing this for our families.”

Her jaw clenches and I just know she’s got so much more to say to me.

“That said, I think it would be a pretty bad night for both of us if it ended early. Don’t you agree?”

Something in her eyes softens slightly. I don’t know what her father told her to convince her to come out tonight, especially in that dress, but whatever it is, it’s enough for her to take me seriously.

I nod toward her menu. “Pick up your menu.”

She does and says, “You’re not going to order for me, tough guy?”

That brings a smirk upon my face. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you,” I say.

“And you’re a rude asshole.”

She looks up at me and we lock eyes. Oh, this is going to be a shit night… and an even worse marriage. I suppose right now, I should focus on what’s in front of me and try to salvage some civility.

The waiter comes over finally and says, “Welcome to Brizetti’s. Can I show you the wine menu?”

“No need,” I say. “We’ll have a bottle of Bordeaux, please.”

Her eyes flash with anger and my dick gets a little harder.

Maybe we’ll never be friends or even civil to one another, but if I have to marry this vapid little thing, then I suppose I can spend the time making her as miserable as she’s going to make me.

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