Page 72 of Saving Forever
“You really married some Russian hockey player?” He shakes his head. “I give it a year.”
He has no idea how right but also wrong he is. And I’m sure as hell not going to tell him.
“Sometimes you just know,” I say simply.
He laughs but it’s a dark sound. “You mean, you know the best way to get the money you lost?”
“The money you lost,” I counter. “What are you doing here, Nathan?”
“Your father and I are going into business together.”
“Why?”
“I have good ideas.”
“Like the tech company you squandered my trust fund on?”
“Hey, you win some, you lose some, but I win a lot more than I lose.”
“So, you just lost my money.”
He shrugs. “It was a test. It failed. I told you I’d make it up to you but you just packed up your shit and canceled the wedding without even giving me a chance.”
Luckily, the men come back in the room and Viktor immediately comes to my side, resting an arm around my shoulders as he eyes Nathan. The two men exchange a look, as if sizing each other up, and then Viktor turns to me and presses his lips to mine.
Under any other circumstances, that would annoy me, the idea of him marking his territory or some other alpha male bullshit. But not today. Today it fills me with warmth. He promised he would protect me and he is.
“So, you’re my replacement.” Nathan appears perfectly carefree. “You know we were supposed to be getting married this summer.”
Viktor lifts one shoulder. “She upgraded.”
I manage not to laugh even though I really want to, especially when I see Nathan’s eyes narrow dangerously. That look used to make me cringe but with Viktor beside me, I’m not afraid.
“Everyone, come into the sunroom!” My mother calls out. “We’re going to open some champagne and toast the newlyweds.”
Without a backward glance, Viktor takes my hand and leads me into the room. My father just popped the cork and my mother begins pouring it into the crystal flutes she’s set out on the sideboard. I walk over to help her pass them out and she smiles at me.
“It’s good to see you,” she says in a much more formal tone than a mother should use with her daughter. But that’s how my father has essentially trained her to behave so I’m used to it.
“You too,” I say, taking two glasses and bringing them to Viktor’s parents. Then I go back to get two more, one for Viktor and one for myself.
“Cheers,” he says, softly clinking his glass against mine. “To my beautiful bride.”
Every time he says something like that, my heart flutters happily.
I’m almost starting to believe this thing between us might work out.
“A toast,” my father bellows in his public speaking voice. “To my daughter and her new husband, and to our new extended family. Welcome.”
God, this is a speech worthy of the campaign trail.
Everyone obligingly touches glasses—even Nathan—and then my mother laments that we didn’t have a real wedding.
“There is time,” Mrs. Maslak says with a smile. “Maybe we have ceremony in Russia.”
“Oh.” My mother’s eyes widen. “That sounds lovely—what do you think, Franklin?”
My father nods. “That would be something. I’ll have to talk to my PR people about it, see if they think we should bring a camera crew.”
