Chapter 12

"Mr. Petrov." Mrs. Yugov interrupts the quiet of my office. "The lawyer is here."

I look up from the letter in my hands. It's an old letter of my mother's that she kept locked away in a trunk.

The same afternoon she told her parents of her decision to marry my father, they'd disowned her. Thrown her out of the house with only a single trunk to fill with all of her belongings.

What was once filled with some clothing, toiletries, and framed memories now houses the memories she wanted to keep locked up. The angry letters her mother sent to her after her marriage. The copies of the legal documents showing she'd been cut off from the family estates and fortunes. It wasn't enough they'd actually done it, but they needed to send the proof to her.

I refold the letter. When my grandfather became ill, my grandmother wrote to inform my mother. She'd suggested my mother come home, to beg her father's forgiveness before it was too late. But she requested she leave her children behind.

My mother would never do such a thing. My grandfather died without her pleas for a forgiveness she didn't need.

"Send him in." I tuck the letter back into the fragile, yellowing envelope.

"I know it's not my place, but…" Mrs. Yugov steps further into the room. "Wouldn't Cora prefer a church for her wedding? Or maybe a ceremony in the park? Something brighter than your office?"

I sweep my eyes up to my housekeeper. She's been with me for years, when I was a young man making stupid mistakes. When I still believed a marriage like my parents' would be possible for me.

"She's fine with things the way they are." I drop the envelope into my top drawer beside the other letter I keep locked away and move to my feet. "And you're right. It's not your place."

She pinches her lips together, like she'd like to give me a good talking to, but she thinks better of it.

"Someone needs to look out for the girl," she says, but turns on her heel.

"She'll be my wife, so that's my job." My response is given to an empty room. Mrs. Yugov enjoys having the last word.

"Mr. Petrov." Anthony Certucci, my attorney, sweeps into my office, swinging his briefcase up to rest on the desk. I despise lawyers almost as much as I do the government, but at least Anthony gets straight to the point and doesn't linger.

"You've drawn up the prenuptial agreement I asked for?"

"I did." He nods, pulling out paperwork. "But I have to caution you."

"Caution me?" I eye the papers. "Isn't your job to protect me in that document?"

"I have." He stands straight, like I've just insulted him. I couldn't give a shit about his feelings. I want this handled and I want it completed quickly.

"Then what is there to caution me about?"

"You did read the paperwork I sent you regarding your grandmother's will?"

"That's why we're here today. The judge will be here shortly. Let's get this over with."

He eyes me carefully. "Mr. Petrov, if you divorce within the first year, you lose the inheritance."

"What?" I'd read the documents several times. How could I have missed that?

"Yes. One year. No less," he explains, laying the paperwork out in front of me. "You'll take ownership of the controlling stocks in Kustov Metals after your marriage is filed with the state, but at the end of one year, if you are not still married, the stocks will be put up for sale. You can't purchase them back."

It's not the prenup, it's the will. He points at a paragraph that I don't remember reading. It's small and tucked between paragraphs regarding the monies and estates left to my cousin. A piddly amount and the estates in Russia that I have no interest in anyway.

"No divorce." I read it again carefully. He's right. "So, nothing is actually inherited until the year is over?"

"Like I mentioned, you'll be head of the company, you'll earn just as your grandmother did. But as for the monies and such, that will be in a trust until one year from the date of your grandmother's death."

"Will I be able to sell any part of the company during that year?" How can I destroy it, if it's not in my grasp to crush?

"Since you'll be the controlling decision, yes, you'll be able to. So long as you get the majority of the board to agree to a sale. But understand, if you should divorce during the year, it will make things tricky. You'll have to refund the money earned from the sale to the estate." He nods. "I agree, it's an odd stipulation, especially since she herself set up the review process. But it's there."

He pulls out another document. "The prenuptial agreement is set; it needs both signatures."

I sweep my eyes over the document.

A full year.

She'll be twenty-six. It gives her plenty of time to find someone to marry her and give her the family she wants.

She's young. She has that going for her.

I read the prenuptial agreement again. There's nothing in it about length of the marriage.

She's under the impression this will only be for a few months. And it still can be; there's nothing in my grandmother's will that stipulates she needs to live with me.

I'll see that she's taken care of for the annoyance, and I'll be able to move forward with my plan.

The Kustov businesses will be stomped out. The legacy my grandfather wanted to protect so badly he disowned his only daughter will die with it.

"Did you want to make any changes, given this new information?" His bushy gray eyebrows lift, like he's a disappointed father urging a child to do the right thing.

If he had the memories I have, he would know I am doing the right thing. My mother was abandoned by her own family. She watched as my father's mother fawned over me, enjoying her years of grandmother-hood. She did her best to hide it, but I could see the sadness in her eyes at not being able to have that same bond with her own mother.

When my father died, I was only seven years old. Still, they would not see her as their own blood. If it were not for my uncles, and the fierce loyalty of the Petrov family, my mother and I would have been cast to the streets in Russia. Instead, we found a new life here in Chicago.

"No." I pick up a pen and scribble my signature. "And no talk of the will to Cora." It's not a request, and he nods silently in agreement.

There's a gentle knock on the door.

Cora stands just inside the office. Her hair has been curled and she's wearing a modest blue sundress. She's the image of purity.

Something a man like me will destroy.

Nothing remains pure and sweet forever.

And she is no different.

"Uh, the judge is here." She eyes the attorney.

"Good." I hold out the pen. "Just sign here and we'll get this over with."

With soft steps, she makes her way to me and takes the pen from my hand.

"What is this?" She turns the paper toward her and begins to read over the agreement. "A prenuptial agreement." She breathes out, as though it's a relief. "We each leave with what we brought, is that right?" She looks up at the attorney.

Mr. Certucci's eyes linger several inches south of her chin when she asks her question. He blinks, then darts his gaze back up and nods.

"Hmm, yes. Yes, that's what it says." His cheeks redden, but when he glances up at me, they drain of all color.

"That seems fair. It's only for a few months anyway." She grins and puts the pen to paper, carefully signing her full name. Even her penmanship is pretty.

"That's all." I snap the document from beneath her pen the second she finishes and shove it to Certucci. "Send the judge in when you leave."

In his flustered state, he doesn't put the paperwork in his briefcase before he leaves. He just wraps his arms around it all and hurries.

He's lucky he's leaving with his eyes.

"The money," Cora says quietly after the lawyer leaves.

"What about it?" I pick up the copy of my grandmother's will he left behind and slide it into a drawer.

"Well, I checked my account this morning and it wasn't there." She rolls her shoulders back and lifts her chin. "I'd rather it be in the bank before we go through with this."

Smart woman.

I pick up a folder from my desk and open it, showing her the bank account I opened in her name.

"Ten thousand, like we agreed. If I had deposited it in your account, the amount could make the bank suspicious."

She looks up from the statement, her eyes narrowing.

"Because where would a girl like me get ten thousand dollars?"

"Your bank account was in the negative. A sudden deposit of ten grand from an outside account without your name on it would have made them flag it," I explain.

Before I let her go, I'll have a financial expert go through her finances with her. She's obviously been badly educated on it.

"Right." She looks at the statement again. "Is this a joint account then?"

"It's your account." I close the folder and drop it to the desk. "If you're ready, I'd like to get through with this. I have a meeting in an hour." I look at my watch.

She laughs.

It's a pretty sound.

Another strike against her.

"Just what every blushing bride wants to hear on their wedding day," she says. "Not that I'm blushing, because there's no reason. This is just a business arrangement. Nothing more."

She's rambling again.

"Mr. Petrov. Are you ready for me?" Judge Ramon darkens the doorway.

I lean down, brushing my lips across her ear. She smells of lavender. Mrs. Yugov must have given her a new bar of soap.

I inhale deeply.

"Don't worry, Coraline. I'll have you blushing by the end of the day."

She gasps, but it's hidden beneath my order for the judge to come in.

Behind him march my cousins and their women.

"I was afraid we'd miss it." Viktor grins. "But we're just in time."

Bastards.