Page 4 of Caged in Desire
Blanche Sinclair is a force of nature. As vexing as the meeting with the Taranovs was, it won’t hold a candle to the conversation I’m about to have with my mother.
“Explain yourself,” I say, walking around the table to take the seat next to her.
She adjusts herself, sitting up even straighter and lifting her chin to hold her head high, refusing to cower in the face of conflict. “Darling, I really don’t have the time to get into this. I wouldloveto stay and chat all day, but I do have an appointment in thirty—”
I interrupt her, slapping my hand down on the table for emphasis. “We’re going to sit here and discuss this until you’ve told me every minuscule detail pertaining to that contract, and if it takes all night, so be it.”
Her face becomes somber, and the reality of the situation finally sinks in. I’m suddenly suffocated with the enormity of what just happened. My perfectly crafted facade breaks, with anger seeping out from the cracks. I’ve spent my whole life training to be the heir to our family’s empire. I’ve forgone somany of the experiences they take pleasure in, all so that I can keep our legacy alive.
“I’ve always done everything for this family, and now you wantthis?”I say, lifting the dossier of the woman I’m contractually obligated to marry. A woman whose name I’ve just learned. “Whatever you’ve conspired in the past has just come to light in a way thatdrasticallyaffectsmy goddamnlife!”
“Henry Charles Sinclair, don’t youeverspeak to me like that again,” she says, the anger in her eyes now rivaling my own as she stares me down. “I didn’t have anything to do with this contract.Thiswas your grandfather’s doing. How dare you insinuate that I would ever knowingly put any of my children in this situation?”
I prop my elbows on the table and rest my head in my hands, rubbing my temples to alleviate the sudden headache. “I love you, and I apologize for losing my temper, but this is important. Arguably, the most important contract I will ever fulfill.Please…just tell me what’s going on.”
She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. “I wasn’t around when the contract was originally drawn up, but from my understanding, it was meant to benefit both families.Yearsago, when your grandfather was growing the Sinclair empire, he ran across the Taranov family, and they quickly hit it off. The Taranovs were a very wealthy family in Russia at the time. They wanted to relocate their headquarters to the United States, but their strong ties to the Bratva made it difficult for them to gain any credibility here.
“Your grandfather was just that. He was an extremely credible businessman whose success was growing substantially. He was doing very well nationally. However, he lacked the funds or connections to take his trade global. The two families came together with a solution to solve both of their problems. The Taranovs would invest heavily in your grandfather’s business,providing some of their foreign contacts as well, and your grandfather would help the Taranovs gain credibility in the States.
“At the time, your father was only a baby, not that it would’ve mattered to your grandfather. He viewed everything attached to him as an asset, including his wife and children. The contract was drawn up for your father to marry the next daughter born into the Tananov family and…well, Henry…”
She pauses, and I see the tears swelling up in her eyes as she meets my gaze. “Your life isn’t the only one that was drastically affected.”
“Mom…” I reach across the table with my hand out, an invitation for hers. “I’m sorry, I should have controlled my temper before I knew the whole story.”
She grabs my hand and squeezes gently, blotting her unfallen tears away with a tissue.
“No, I deserved your anger. I should’ve told you years ago, but I genuinely didn’t think it would ever affect you. When your father and I got married, the contract was amended to the next generation. Of course, I didn’t know about any of this for years. You were well into your childhood before your father finally confessed how he had managed to pull the necessary strings for our union to proceed.
“As you know, the contract was to become void if there wasn't a suitable contender born by the time you turned eighteen. I watched that family for years to make sure the consequences of your grandfather’s greed didn’t come back to affectmybabies.”
I chuckle, remembering the things Ivan accused Mom of doing in regard to herwatching. “Apparently, you did more than watch. Snipers, really? Assassins, too?”
“Honestly, Henry, they werejust actors!” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “They almost took everything from me. I had to give themsometrouble.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
Her face turns solemn once again, I assume from memories of her and Father, young and in love. “My darling boy, I’m so,sosorry you’re having to deal with this. I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to see this resolved.”
She breaks our contact with one last squeeze to my hand and reaches for the folder containing all the information I have about my bride-to-be. Her eyes widen as she turns the first page back. “Althoughthe two of you would give me absolutely extraordinary grandchildren,” she says, holding up a picture of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
The meeting was traumatic enough that I didn’t once imagine what this woman would look like, but I’m having a visceral reaction after one glance at her. My feelings of being trapped in marriage dissipate as I envision her as my wife.
An alarm on my phone lets me know I’ll be late for dinner if we don’t wrap this up soon, even if I could stay here all night looking at the goddess I'm going to marry. I stand and walk around to where Mom remains sitting, holding out a hand to help her up as well. She bypasses my offer, jumping out of her chair and nearly knocking me to the floor with the force of her hug. “I’m so, so sorry, son.”
“It’s fine, really. It's not your fault. Let’s keep this between us for now, though. Our legal team can look into things before we include the rest of the family,” I reply.
She finally pulls herself back from me, and the Blanche Sinclair fire I’ve always known and admired is back in her eyes. “Of course. We can figure this out.”
I grab the folder left on the table before escorting her to her car and beginning my own drive home for dinner.
This is fine.
After dinner, I make my way to my study, dossier in hand, and recline in my chair, nursing a glass of scotch. I have thirtyminutes allotted on my daily schedule for digestion after dinner, and while I would usually take this time to work on a crossword, I have more interesting information to sort through.
Opening the file, I get my second look at the woman I’ve been promised to. She’s no doubt young, but there’s a grace about her that far surpasses that of an average eighteen-year-old. Her long, light blonde hair, creamy pale skin, and almost violet eyes are entrancing.
Willing myself to investigate further, I reluctantly pull myself away from her photograph and flip to the next page.
