by D. A. Young
“Thanks and you’re damned straight I am,” Guy agreed vehemently. His face hardened into a mask of determination. “I’m not doin’ anythin’ to screw this up. Thank you for invitin’ her, Ms. Vivienne,” he finished with a grateful smile.
Under the guise of needing a new trousseau, the Romankov matriarch chose to play cupid and issued Fern an invitation to visit which happened to coincide with the date of the party. The seamstress arrived via the family’s private plane and was staying overnight with them.
“I hope not.” Vivienne came forward and chastely pecked his cheek. “I think the two of you will make a great couple, and you know we’re all rooting for you, Guy. Now, has anyone seen Kat?”
“She’s over there by the windows, dancing with D.J.,” Ian answered. “I say we join her.” Gallantly, he offered her his arm and raised an eyebrow at Alexei. “I’m sure your husband won’t object if you honor me with a dance, Vivi?”
“Normally I would, except I see an old friend I have to greet.” Alexei bent his head and pressed a lingering kiss to his wife’s lips. “Save me a dance, my love.”
“Of course, Lex.”
Vivienne slipped her arm through Ian’s and allowed him to lead her away. She kept a watchful eye on Alexei who was headed across the room to where Holt was conversing with another man that resembled him in features and build. Except, he wasn’t as tall or muscled. Nor was he dressed in the required formal attire for this soiree. Suddenly, Alexei was approached by Grisha, one of his guards. They had a brief conversation, and the older Russian glanced back to where Holt stood.
“That’s odd.”
“What’s that, my dear?” Ian inquired, following the direction she was staring in.
“Rudii Brammer, Holton’s father, is here, even though he and Elin, his wife, declined the invitation. I wonder what he wants.”
Ian noted his other best friend’s powerful stride as he cut through the rapidly parting crowd, the guard having disappeared.
“I don’t doubt that your “Wolf” will be finding out shortly.”
Alexei observed the tense postures of Holt and Rudii, who was whispering furiously to his son. Whatever he was saying was having an increasingly negative effect on the younger Brammer who was stone-faced. Hardly appropriate for the festive gathering around them. It brought forth Alexei’s defensive streak that would have been entirely laughable to the Russian a year ago. Yet, so much had changed in that timeframe. He now knew that his life and those of his family could be trusted with the Swede. Alexei puffed out his resignation, having no choice but to accept what everyone else already had.
A merger between the families was inevitable.
Chapter Five
Thirty minutes earlier
“Uh-oh! Don’t hurt ‘em, D.J.!” Kat cheered when her older nephew started cabbage patching. “Which one of your parents taught you that?”
“Neither,” D.J. said as he broke it down then smoothly transformed into the Milly Rock, with Kat matching him move-for-move. “Aayyye! Go ‘head, Auntie K! Uncle Guy took me to Ms. Georgina’s dance class two weeks ago in Baymoor so I could attend with A, Joanna, and Camille. The class she was teachin’ was an old-school one. It’s pretty popular! There were a lotta grown-ups.” He rolled his eyes at his aunt. “The Spring Chickens were showin’ out somethin’ fierce like it was a competition. I came back with moves y’all ain’t even ready for! Don’t worry; I won’t hit you with them all at once,” he finished with a cheeky grin. “This town would never be the same if I did.”
“Easy there, ‘Footloose’,” Kat laughed. “We’re still on for ice fishing this weekend? Think you can fit me into your busy schedule, please?”
After living an oppressive existence with his tyrannical, maternal grandfather, D.J. was making up for lost time in his childhood. A foodie extraordinaire, he was currently studying two languages, was a member of the honor roll, student council, chess club, and was taking Tai Kwon Do. In addition to that, Avery had just signed him up for basketball.
D.J. side-eyed her hard. “Whatchu talkin ‘bout, Aunt K? You’re family! Of course, I’d put you before anyone else.”
“Good to know. Have you made your Christmas wish list yet? You still haven’t told me what you wanted, and I’ve been asking since the day we decorated here.”
Just the mention of that time period gave her pause. It was the day Royce abducted her mother and there hadn’t been a damn thing Kat could do about it. Although the threats of danger to Vivienne and Ian had been handled, she still felt slightly on edge. The terrifying period had rendered Kat helpless. She couldn’t even imagine how her mother, her shero, felt. Instead of waiting and hovering for word of good news, Kat had released her frustrations with her whip in her parents’ old bedroom suite. It was already destroyed, thanks to her father’s wrath years ago. The extent of the damage Kat added now rivaled Alexei’s.
“Nah, I don’t need a list,” he easily dismissed, unknowingly drawing her back into the present. “There’re only two things I’m wantin’ this year.”
“What’s that, sugar?” Kat attempted to smooth the auburn cowlicks of his hair down to no avail.
“I’m thinkin’ I need a siblin’ and Aunt Jenny needs Odell back,” D.J. revealed, taking a stunned Kat’s hand and attempting to spin her around. “What do you think about that?”
Her dear, sweet, funny, analytical nephew was such a romantic at heart, Kat thought as he stared up at her with an earnest expression.
“Um, I think you should start with something simpler. How about a new scooter?” Kat offered with a grin. “Do your mama and aunt know about this wish list?”
“My daddy knows how badly I want a baby brother or sister, but you’re the only person that I’ve mentioned what’s on my heart for Aunt Jenny. She volunteered to watch Ruby and baby Jack tonight because she’s got Scrooge fever.”
D.J. regarded her somberly as he explained, “Everyone’s got someone, Aunt Kat. It ain’t right for her to be lonely, especially durin’ the holidays! She’s been developin’ weird habits too. Suddenly, she’s real keen on buyin’ batteries by the bulk. I don’t know what they’re for, but she keeps them stocked and in her bedroom if you ever need some.”
“I see. Got it. No more batteries.” By the grace of God was how Kat managed to maintain a straight face at the piping hot tea D.J. was spilling. Lawd, this baby watched and listened to them better than the NSA!
“I want someone for her that’s gonna watch out for her, make her laugh, and look at her like Daddy and Mama look at each other. She deserves it. Or even the way Uncle Holt looks at you. Even now, he’s checkin’ for you.”
It wasn’t necessary for Kat to glance over her shoulder in the direction that D.J. tipped his chin. She could feel her man’s territorial stare roaming over her and luxuriate in its wonder. Yet, Kat did it anyway, her willpower nonexistent when it came to Holt.
There was no sign of the casual Master Carpenter tonight.
Holton Brammer cleaned up superbly. Fiercely refined, he cut a dashing yet formidable figure in a navy Kiton suit. It was impeccable, fitting his heavily muscled body flawlessly as if he’d been poured into it. Holt had paired it with a white dress shirt and a paisley-plum tie with a matching kerchief in his pocket, unintentionally matching Kat’s sapphire, satin pantsuit with the plum corset underneath. It was a nice play at civility, except with his recently cut blonde locks flowing around his broad shoulders, a beard fashioned to a point, two inches below his jaw, and those fucking muscles, Holt radiated with a feral power, like a modern-day Viking that refused to be contained. As D.J. promised, his eyes were trained on Kat. They were blazing with love, a half-smile playing sensually around his lips, as he enjoyed her and D.J.’s antics.
She stumbled but quickly corrected herself with exasperation, sensing Holt’s amusement from across the room. Kat should have known better than to look. Eye contact with Mr. Brammer was dangerously volatile. It tended to unleash a maelstrom of emotions within Kat at any
given moment that made her do daft, silly things. Like automatically get wet for him. It was the constant state she lived in, and Kat was two seconds away from either wearing Depends or investing in an astronaut diaper. Simply being with him was foreplay. Kat loved the makeup of her man. She trusted him implicitly. On top of being a “Billy Bad Ass”, he was a man of his word–honest, devoted, and extremely logical. Holt wasn’t prone to spontaneity. He thought everything through methodically and preferred to keep shit as simple as black and white. Kat knew he’d overanalyzed why they could or wouldn’t work and fought the good fight before admitting defeat and voila! Now, they were nauseatingly happy.
Falling in love was…heady, addicting…utterly intoxicating…and a burden at times that had made a complete mess of her life. It was about the stupidest thing Kat had ever done. Yet, she wouldn’t trade it for the world. Her world had been enriched by his presence. She’d accepted the reckless, passionate chaos of it all.
“You gonna marry him, Auntie K? Accordin’ to Daddy, down the aisle is where the two of y’all best be headed with the goo-goo eyes you’re always makin’ at each other.”
Kat’s eyes rolled at her middle brother’s two cents. “I’m sure he’s just chompin’ at the bit to make that happen. Do me a favor and remind his nosy butt that he’s your daddy and not mine. You can also tell him I said to mind his own beeswax.”
“Will do, but it is gonna happen, right?” D.J. drilled her stubbornly. “You’ll let me know if I need to sit Uncle Holt down about doin’ right by you?”
Kat threw her head back and laughed. D.J. carried himself exactly like her brothers and father. He was more of a man, at the tender age of eight, than his own biological father had been as an adult. Like all the males in their family, the marrow of his bones was compiled of honor and integrity.
Marriage.
Kat couldn’t get away from the subject. It wasn’t that she was opposed to the idea of it. She just wanted to be sure that it was for the right reasons. Until almost a year ago, her parents had lived her entire life as strangers. Now, they were madly in love and boinking all over the house, violating Kat’s ears and eyeballs. It made looking her father in the eye a little harder when she frequently heard her mama hollering like an exorcism was being performed. The rift between them had definitely mended, and Kat was grateful that they’d managed to find their way back to each other. She just hated that there had been a divide, to begin with.
Holton was her heart and soul, and he wanted to marry her. For better or for worse, marriage was a forever thing. It was not something that Kat took lightly. Her greatest fear was that her parents’ history would repeat itself with her and Holt.
***
“I’m not goin’ anywhere. With all due respect, I’ve gone above and beyond my duty. Now that you have my answer, I’d appreciate it if you left and relayed it.”
Holt was trying his damnedest to conceal any inflections of rage that were bubbling within. It wasn’t his father’s fault. Holt knew who to blame here. Ivar. Nothing was ever enough for the old man. He shoved a hand in his pants pocket until his fingers wrapped around the small velvet box that he’d been carrying around for months. Holt gripped it as if it were his salvation.
"Son...tänk på vad du gör,” Rudii pleaded, urging him to rethink his choice. He’d switched to Swedish as guests shuffled closer around them.
He was filled with a combination of pride and apprehension for his only child. He did his duty with grave integrity, out of respect and loyalty to his parents, never to impress Ivar. Holton had always been a mindful, obedient son, never giving him or his wife, Elin, an inkling of trouble to Rudii’s knowledge. From day one of emerging from his mother’s womb, it was as if Holton had known and understood the circumstances surrounding his conception. The sacrifices his parents, mainly Elin, had made for him to breathe life, a privilege he should never have had access to, were not once, taken for granted. That was what made Rudii most proud. When Holt was younger, every time they returned to Sweden, his father walked on eggshells, worried if that would be the time when Ivar successfully lured Rudii’s son over with his decadent corruption.
It was all for naught. From a young age, Holt slipped into his role seamlessly. He moved and looked like the majority of them, with his flaxen hair, blue eyes, and fluent Swedish. Except, his southern drawl and skillset set him apart. Holt refused to hide his accent. He was proud of The Row. As for his skills, well, those were hereditary and forged from training with the best, as if for the Olympics. His slightly older cousin Otto was a combative little shit that circled like a shark around him, lurking, desperately searching for Holt’s vulnerabilities, anxious for the opportunity to draw blood and rip him apart. Otto hated Holt for reasons his younger cousin regrettably couldn’t control.
He’d been conditioned by Ivar, who lived for pitting Otto and Holt against each other in what he called “healthy’’ competition. Their youngest male cousin, Blaise, got along great with Holt. Their oldest cousin Mattias, Blaise’s brother was the most influential over them and the exception to Ivar’s rule. He wasn’t a fighter. Yet, he did have a unique skill set that made him an invaluable asset to their grandfather and as the head of the finance department at Falk Incorporated. Matty was a mathematical genius that added a substantial number of zeroes to Ivar’s bank accounts.
“I did think about it, and I know exactly what I’m doin’,” Holt retorted under his breath while keeping a polite smile pasted to his face. “Tonight is for celebratin’. I plan to speak with Ms. Vivienne and then propose to Kat with her parents’ blessin’. Ingenting kommer att stå i min väg.”
It was true; nothing would sabotage turning Holt’s long-fantasized dream into a reality. Gales of lyrical laughter reached his ears, and the underlying, intimate notes hardened Holt’s shaft. His eyes found Kat’s from across the room. The fierce concern in hers as they flashed to his father then back to him warily made Holt smile, albeit grimly. They held each other down perfectly, and he wasn’t about to do a damn thing to jeopardize that shit. Holt refused to delay his destiny with Kat any longer than he already had.
She bent down and kissed D.J.’s cheek, gently propelling him toward their large group of family before making a beeline in Holt’s direction. Damn, but his baby stayed locked and loaded, making the most mundane things look sexy, Holt mused, eyes hungrily eating Kat up. For instance, her walk. Wearing the hell out of her sapphire tuxedo-style suit, Kat was cool and composed, exuding confidence, with an erect posture as one foot shifted in front of the other, creating a smooth, regal, sashay that ate up the distance between them. The fluid sway of her hips had Holt sliding his thumb pad across his lips in contemplation while simultaneously checking for drool. Sheesh. No one had to tell him what kind of magic she was created from. He was a lucky motherfucker, no doubt. Her physical beauty was a bonus on top of her grace, strength, passion, and hell-on-wheels resilience.
To everyone else, she was the Romankov Princess with the world at her fingertips. Except, Holt knew better. The princess moniker was too insignificant. Katerina was a fucking queen. The only thing missing was a physical crown atop her head and…Holt’s ring on her finger.
Jesus, he couldn’t wait to wife her.
“There are extenuating circumstances of which we don’t know all of the details. You need to hear them out before determining your final answer. Practice the art of negotiation, and I’m sure an incentive will be forthcoming. It would be wise not to upset the balance that has held since…” Rudii trailed off at Holt’s wintry glare. “Aww hell, son.”
“My birth?” The flush in his father’s cheeks confirmed his guess. “Go on ahead and say it. I’ve upheld my part of the bargain. No one, least of all Ivar, has the right to demand more of me.”
“Jag är ledsen, Holt. It wasn’t my intention to come here and guilt trip you,” Rudii apologized roughly.
“Apology not accepted, Dad!” Holt snapped. “If that wasn’t your intent, prove it. When my woman joins us,
excuse yourself and relay my answer. This conversation is over as far as I’m concerned. Let Otto man up and deal with whatever bullshit he’s inadvertently brought their way with his stupidity. Perhaps, Ivar should’ve taken a crash course in ‘The Law of Janthe’ before making choices out of spite. He’s never forgiven me for foilin’ his plans for my personal life and my refusal to join Falk Incorporated six years ago. Let him reap what he’s sown.”
Rudii couldn’t help but chuckle at his son’s logic. Nothing infuriated the old bastard more than his middle grandson refusing to bend to his will and Holt’s rejection of the Falks’ ostentatious lifestyle.
“Your anger isn’t unwarranted, but if you want to continue to keep your life here and the one you were born into separate, go and hear him out,” Rudii suggested pragmatically, squeezing his son’s shoulder comfortingly. “Ivar is askin’ for you specifically.”
“He’s got plenty of options; he just needs to quit bein’ such an asshole. I know Blaise needs more instruction, yet, hasn’t Thea proven worthy of bein’ considered?”
Holt was referencing his younger female cousin who adored him, and the feeling was mutually returned. She loved his “no fucks given, take charge” attitude, especially when it came to dealing with Ivar. Holt was aware that behind his back, Otto had labeled him Enkel Svensk – the Simple Swede. Yeah, he was real simple. In fact, he was so simple that, unlike his cousins, Holt didn’t need to kiss Ivar’s wrinkled ass to fund his existence or answer to his grandfather because he worked hard and lived within his means.
Just thinking about his dumb-ass, freeloading bastard of a cousin made Holt’s blood pressure rise. No matter the attempts at peace Holt had made with him in the early years, Otto was petty and mean-spirited, rejecting him at every turn. He’d stopped trying, and it made Otto even more spiteful. In his deranged mind, Holt owed him everything that was taken from him. It was a lose-lose situation.
