CHAPTER-07
1847 Words
Anna.
Sitting inside the workshop, the hum of the ultrasonic machine fills the room. Tongs in hand, I hold a diamond ring, dipping it into the clear liquid. It quickly turns brown as all the grime comes off, making the ring clean again.
It’s been a week since I was discharged from the hospital, and I feel so much better. Coming to work was all I wanted while recovering, but I knew that stepping back was the right thing to do. Maggie, who I trust more than anyone with the business, had everything under control.
A soft knock lands on the door before it opens. I know it’s Eric before he even steps inside. “What’s up, handsome?” I ask, placing my tools down on the table to give him my full attention.
Today, he wears black slacks and a white button-down shirt, no suit jacket this time, with the sleeves rolled up. His muscles are on full display, and I can’t help but let my gaze linger a little too long on them.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but your grandfather is on the line. He would like to speak with you.” My heart skips a beat at the mention of my grandfather. He rarely calls unless it’s something important.
Our relationship has always been special. As a child, I loved spending carefree afternoons with him, dressing him in pigtails and dabbing makeup on his cheeks, turning him into my own playful canvas.
He would chuckle as he grabbed me by the back of my knee, using that ticklish spot to send me into fits of giggles.
“Will you stop?” my nan would often scold us, but we were too wrapped up in our antics to pay her any mind.
Beneath his gruff exterior, my grandfather has a genuinely kind heart. But at 74, he’s not getting any younger, and I worry about him. During my last visit, he seemed unusually stressed.
I knew pressing him for details would likely lead nowhere, as he usually brushes off concerns. Shutting off the machine and carefully placing the silver jewelry on the table, I stand up, urgency washing over me. “Did he sound alright?”
Eric shifts his weight, his brow furrowed. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but he insisted that you talk to him right away and even threatened to have me fired if I didn’t get you to the phone immediately. I’m really sorry.”
“That’s just my pop-pop. Don’t stress about it, Eric.” I give him a reassuring smile and lightly tap his stubble-free cheek. “I’m not going to fire you—not even if my father insisted on it.”
He’s far too skilled for that, and I owe him a lot for his help while I was recovering. If it weren’t for him, I would probably still be ill.
As I step out of the room, I notice Eric’s gaze following me—something that’s been happening more often today. I’m not sure if he’s worried that I’m lying about feeling better or not.
Once in my office, I find my phone face up, the screen illuminated with the name "Pop-Pop." He really didn’t want me to call back later, did he? I press the speaker option and hear the familiar sound of wind rustling in the background. He’s either out on the golf course or soaking up the sun in the garden; given the ambiance, it’s likely the latter.
I place my hands flat on the smooth mahogany surface of my desk and lean forward. “Grandpa?”
His raspy voice crackles through the speaker, a sound that brings me immense comfort. “Sunshine,” he greets me, a term of endearment that pulls at my heartstrings.
“How is everything?” I ask, keeping my voice steady but tinged with concern.
He exhales slowly, a sign that weighs heavily in the air. “We need to talk.”
I grab my chair and take a deep breath before sitting down. “Okay.”
“Your mother came to see you a couple of days ago, didn’t she?”
Closing my eyes, I let out a weary sigh, immediately understanding why he called. “I already told her, Pop Pop.”
“I know, honey, but this needs to happen.”
Eric, who stands at the door, whispers, and our eyes meet. “You’re really busy with work the next couple of weeks. You’re not going to have time.”
Nodding, I turn my attention back to the phone call. “Why can't Jennifer do it?”
Jennifer is my sister and always seems to do whatever she likes, maybe because she’s the youngest.
“Because she’s 20 years old, and it’s not set up for her; it’s for you.”
“I’m swamped at the shop. I’m not going to have time.”
He sighs. “Years ago, when your father was running the business, he faced challenges with another company. They ended up forming an alliance where you would marry his son in return for their connection. Your father promised this Anna, and if you don’t go through with it, the business could face serious trouble.”
I recall my parents discussing this when I was a child. Dad was stressed, and Mom worried about money. They thought the business was going to fall apart.
“Wait, how would Petrova suffer?”
“It doesn’t matter for now. As long as you go through with this marriage, everything will be perfectly fine.”
I look at Eric, who looks back at me. “No one said anything about marriage.”
Why would I want to be tied to someone? That means I would need to consider their feelings, and I don’t have time for that.
“That’s part of the deal, Anna.”
“So why do I need to go on a blind date?”
“You both need to meet and get to know each other.”
I scoff. “So either way, I have no choice.”
“I’m sorry, Sunshine; you will meet next Wednesday.”
Shaking my head, I snap at him for the first time in my life. “Leave the scheduling to my assistant.”
Pushing away from the desk, I stand and walk away as he tries to say something. Looking at Eric, I say, “Wrap up the call and take the time and date from him.” With a blank expression, he nods.
As I leave the room, my frustration spills over. I plop down on the stool once more. I need a break right now to wrap my head around all of this.
Since when did my decision-making shift from being my own to my parents making it for me? I'm not a child who doesn’t know what they want. This isn’t an easy decision to make; they’re talking about marriage. Isn’t that supposed to be with someone you love? Not a stranger.
An arranged marriage—I'm going to be stuck in a loveless situation where he will probably cheat and do God knows what every night.
As my foot taps the floor in frustration, I hear, “Are you alright?”
I look up to see him standing in the doorway. “No, I’m not okay, Eric.”
I watch as he bites his lower lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I shouldn’t be snapping at him; this isn’t his fault.
“Thanks, Eric, but no.”
For the next couple of days, I immerse myself in work, focusing on jewellery that I need to finish. Before I know it, Wednesday is already here.
In a tight-fitting white dress paired with strappy black heels, I walk down the stairs to a waiting Eric. I watch as his eyes roam down my body, and his pupils dilate.
When they finally meet mine again, he says in a huskier voice than usual, “You look f*****g stunning.”
Heat rises up my neck until it reaches my cheeks. Looking down, I say, “Thank you.”
Stepping aside, he says, “It’s nearly 9:00pm, you better get going before you’re late.”
Placing my hand on his cheek, I smile, “thank you for helping me choose what to wear.”
I stood amidst the chaos of my closet, surrounded by a sea of clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, each garment a reflection of my indecision. The air was thick with the scent of fabric and a hint of mustiness as I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the colorful options before me. Just then, he walked in, his gaze sweeping across the disarray with a mix of surprise and understanding.
His eyes drop to my lips before they drift back to mine. “You’re welcome.”
Standing outside the restaurant, I'm meeting the man whose name I found out is Harry King a f*****g billionaire no wonder my farther wants me to marry him it would sort the problems out with our business easily. I step inside and make my way toward the check-in desk.
A woman, small in height with long brown hair, smiles at me. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Petrova.”
She begins to type. Seconds later, she grabs a menu and says, “Right this way.”
She guides me through the dimly lit restaurant while families, friends, and colleagues chat with one another, enjoying a lovely evening meal. The round tables and booths are decorated with candles and vases of flowers. The sound of clinking cutlery mixes with low music, filling the room as she shows me to my table.
Taking my seat as she places my menu down, she says, “Can I get you a drink while you wait?”
“Gin and tonic.”
She nods and then makes her way to the small bar in the corner of the room.
Once I have my drink and minutes pass without any sign of him, I check my watch: half past nine.
Leaning back in my chair, I watch as people come and go, waiters cleaning tables along the way. By the time I’ve reached my third drink, I decide to leave. Grabbing my phone, I call Eric; he answers on the first ring. “The f*****g asshole stood me up.”
His voice is low as he says, “You’re joking.”
“No, and now I’m pissed off. I look like a f*****g i***t sitting here waiting for someone. I’ve been looking at the door for the past 20 minutes.”
“Well, I could come down and have dinner with you.”
That’s not a bad idea; it’s not like he’s going to show up an hour late, and it would be a waste. “Hurry,” I say.
I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You got it, see you soon.”
- Writer
