Page 13 of The Pakhan’s Heir

NONA

Idon’t have a lot of experience with dating and men and all that. With my father’s position was well known when I was in high school, I didn’t really have too many experiences until I was in college. I have this distinct memory of being excited about dating older boys. I spent so much of my teenage years fantasizing about some handsome graduate student seeing me across the quad and sweeping me off my feet.

The reality has been filled with guys who didn’t have enough manners to know how to open a door or pull out a chair for a lady. College boys who were more interested in status and parties than anything else. And when I did find a halfway decent one that I thought I loved enough to have sex with, I had to deal with how lame they were in and outside the bedroom.

And even through all of that misery, I can definitively say that last night was the worst date I have ever been on.

He was rude. No, worse than rude. He was mean. I’ve been lying in bed all morning replaying it in my head. It was like he hated me the moment he saw me.

How can I marry a man who hates me that much? And I’m not naive about all this. We both know that this marriage isn’t supposed to be real, but we’ll still have to pretend that it is for the sake of appearances. Our collective brotherhoods will be looking at us to be the example…

And even that’s bullshit. My father will be expecting me to work with him to bring them down from the inside out. No pressure or anything, I guess.

I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. My expensive red sex dress is balled up on the floor and I’m in my pajamas, wondering how I got in this predicament. There has to be a better way for Papa to execute his plan. Or maybe a better person. All I know is that if I have to sit and smile and act like I’m madly in love with that asshole, I might just lose my mind before I can be a proper spy at all.

There’s a knock at my door, then my father’s voice. “Nona? Are you awake?”

I’m tempted to say no. He was pissed at me last night when he saw me leaving in that dress. He didn’t lose his shit like I thought he would, though. I guess he actually did see the benefit of a half-naked me appealing to Alex’s baser instincts. Too bad it didn’t work.

“I’m awake,” I say against my better judgment. The door opens slowly and my father walks in, a smile on his face.

“Well?” he asks. “How did it go? Tell me everything.”

I could lie, I suppose. Tell him what he wants to hear. It would make him happy, at least. Unfortunately, I just don’t think I have it in me to do that this morning.

“It didn’t go so good, Papa,” I tell him, and his smile drops.

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

I sigh. “He doesn’t like me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he says angrily, though I’m not sure yet if it’s me that he’s angry at. “How could he not like you? Especially in that whorish cocktail dress. What kind of man is he that he didn’t like you?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did you do?”

I freeze slightly. “I didn’t do anything, Papa.”

“Did you insult him? Are you trying to sabotage this in some way?”

“No, I swear. Papa, I think I’m just not his type. Or maybe he’s just as upset about having to marry a stranger as I am.”

He scoffs and crosses his arms firmly. “Impossible. Alexandr is Fedor’s heir. He understands this kind of political move and he knows what’s at stake if he denies you.” My father stares at me for a long moment, dark eyes boring through me as if he’s trying to see into my soul. “You didn’t do anything to upset him?”

“No. I promise, Papa. We’re just not compatible, I guess.”

His frown deepens and he drops his arms. Then he starts pacing back and forth, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “That needs to change, Nona. You must get him to like you or else he will not trust you, and we need him to trust you.”

“How do I do that?” I say, and he rolls his eyes.

“Curse your mother for dying and never teaching you how to manipulate a man to do your bidding,” he mutters.

I almost object to that, but think better of it. We don’t need to discuss the finer points of his misogyny.

“You will show him that he is the man in your marriage,” he says to me. “Be submissive to him. Do whatever he tells you to do. Especially in the bedroom. You must make him feel as though he is in total control over you.”

My stomach turns at the thought of letting Alexandr subjugate me. “What if he wants to hurt me?” I ask him. “Or beat me?”