Page 30 of Summoned
This is the business aggression I admire in him.His ability to manipulate circumstances so that he always gets what he wants is both terrifying and extraordinary. It’s that same predatory instinct that has made him the man he is today.
“By the way,” he says, “your mother mentioned you’ve heard of Daniel, the Deliberovs’ son. Smart man, isn’t he? Studied business in London, young, promising… He’ll be taking over the family company one day.”
My jaw tightens.
“I do hope you’ll be… nice to him tomorrow. You know how important the right connections are. If the Deliberovs are pleased with our meeting, it’ll make negotiations easier. Ofcourse, I’m not saying you should do anything you don’t want to… Just be polite. A little charm never hurts. And you’re twenty-one now. It’s about time you start thinking about a suitable match.”
I frown.It’s not uncommon for higher social circles to arrange marriages. Yet it never occurred to me that Dad would actually go along with it. He’s always found those elite “fucking crackheads” insufferable, unless there’s a business deal on the table. I’m sure it won’t take him long to realize he doesn’t want them as in-laws.
Rather than voice any of that, I merely raise an eyebrow.“Rumor has it, Daniel’s gay.”
I expect some surprise or annoyance, but he just waves my words off. “And? That doesn’t change the fact that he’s intelligent, well-mannered, and has a family name that carries weight. Business isn’t built on love, Nicole.”
I purse my lips.“And what if Daniel has no interest in women whatsoever?”
My father smiles.“Don’t be naïve. In our world, marriage is more of a transaction than a romance. Whether he sleeps with women or men is beside the point. If he wants to secure his position, having a smart, ambitious wife by his side will help.”His gaze pins me in place, measuring me.“And that’s what you are. Smart. Ambitious. Being seen with the future heir of one of the most powerful families wouldn’t hurt you. On the contrary, it would open doors.”
He’s actually serious about this?My hands curl into fists on my lap.“You’ve always told me to be independent, and now you want me to… choose a husband based on the weight of his last name? To become someone’s trophy wife for the sake of a business deal?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nicole. I’m suggesting you don’t shut the door on what fate offers you.” My father tilts his head,rolling a cigarette between his fingers.“Or are you still clinging to the illusion that the world runs on love and principles?”
I shrug, that familiar knot tightening in my stomach.I don’t live under the illusion of love, but if I’m to stand beside someone, it will be because Ichosethem.
My father lights the cigarette and exhales a puff of smoke that drifts across the room. “If that’s the case, you’re not as smart as I thought.”
My heart lurches, an ache settling deep down, but I refuse to let him see it stung. If I lose my temper, he’ll deem it a weakness. So I keep my composure, drawing in a slow breath.The weight in my chest doesn’t lift. There’s no air for me in this house. There never has been.
His tone softens. “No one’s forcing you to marry the boy. Just talk to him. Who knows, you might even like him. I’m sure you’ll give me another reason to be proud.” And just like that, his focus shifts back to the papers in front of him, signaling the conversation has ended.
I head back to my room, a heaviness swelling in my chest until it blooms into darkness. That wasn’t a suggestion! It was a directive.
My fingers curl tighter as I walk down the hallway. I try toconvince myself I have a choice. That if I want to, I can push back.
10
Nicole
Day 5
The Deliberovs’ ball arrives after a torturous twenty-four hours.
Tension coils inside me like a rope tightening around my neck with each passing minute. Every time my father’s words echo in my mind—“a sensible proposal,” “an opportunity,” “open doors”—anger flares across my skin and pulses hot behind my temples.
The dress my mother picked is another reminder of the cage they’re trying to trap me in. Long. Modest. With a neckline so high, I feel like a nun condemned to atone for her sins. If the Black Joker is watching from the shadows, he’s probably doubled over laughing.
But for now, the ball offers me a few hours’ reprieve from him. He only steps out of the dark when we’re alone.
I push the thought of him aside and focus on my mission tonight. I need to obliterate every idea my father has about pairing me with Daniel Deliberov.
I scan the crowded ballroom, where crystal chandeliers cast blinding light over embellished gowns and endless cheek kisses are exchanged. The elite of Sofia. The people you need in your circle if you want to matter in this city. As my father always says: “It’s not who you are—it’s who you know.”
To my right, Boyana plays the charming, clueless blonde at the table. She nods, laughs at the men’s nonsense, and follows the script to perfection.
On my other side, Misha clings to her phone as if theworld might end if she doesn’t post a new story every ten minutes. Her sister sits across from me, deep in animated conversation with the daughter of the owner of Sofia’s biggest private hospital.
The central table—the Deliberovs’ table—seats the most important guests, including my own parents. My father, in a tailored suit, radiates that signature self-assurance, his voice rising above the music. Old Mr. Deliberov, on the other hand, may not have my father’s refined bearing, but his imposing frame and the quiet confidence born of generational wealth hold the room’s attention with ease.
Their wives are present, polite but reserved, resembling beautiful, unmoving dolls. I pity them. Though I’m not sure whether it’s because they’ve been reduced to silent accessories or because they’re willing to crush their egos just to belong in these circles.
