For years, Papa had hinted he would be happy if Carter became his sonin-law. I was sure it was only because his father was a business friend and a famous attorney from old money. Like always, I’d given in to Papa’s insistence, and Carter and I had shared a traditional courtship for six months now. “He’s going to pop the question tomorrow, isn’t he?” I asked emotionlessly. It should have been a ridiculous thing to ask considering we weren’t even monogamous. All anyone had to do was turn on TMZ to find out who twenty-five-year-old playboy Carter Kingston had been sleeping with. But he was taking me to The Grande, a restaurant well-known for marriage proposals. I could only imagine his papa had pushed him toward the archaic idea, just as mine had. Ivan didn’t say anything, but his eyes told me all I needed to know. I nodded even though, inside, the thought of saying yes, of knowing I would force that word past my lips, trapped me in a glass box slowly depleting of oxygen, and I was banging on the walls, choking, coughing, begging for air. I forced the feeling down. “Carter will still be here when I get back.” Ivan remained quiet for a moment before he tossed out his best card. “You know your papa would not approve of this.” I chewed my lip. In the past, whenever I’d asked to tag along on one of Papa’s business trips, he’d refused. But even as a child, I noticed something in his eyes, a spark that couldn’t say no with more volume than if he’d shouted the word. I was never, ever permitted to set foot in Russia, that much was clear. “I know, but he’s not here right now, is he?” “You are not going.” I stared at him. Ivan might complain sometimes, but he never told me what I could or couldn’t do. It was always, “Yes, Mila.” “Of course, Mila.” “As you wish, Mila.” Kidding. That one was a besotted, sword-wielding Westley in my dreams. My point was, he never said, “No, Mila.” I bet if I wanted to rob a bank, he would be my second, no questions asked. Naturally, he’d tattle on me to my papa afterward, but he’d still don a ski mask with me. The suspicion I’d worked so hard to keep down popped like a balloon, grabbed ahold of my heart, and twisted. What was my papa hiding in