Knocked Up By the Russian Boss by Bella King
Chapter 39
IVORY
The conversation with my father was just as stilted and awkward as I had been expecting. He’s so impersonal, even toward his own child.
“Sweetie, I know you sound very excited about having me meet this new friend, but I don’t think you understand how busy I’ve been these days,” he says as if I wasn’t raised exclusively by nannies as a girl because of how busy he was.
His sappy, disingenuous tone is patronizing, but I’d never expect anything less from him. He’s never looked a woman in the eyes unless he could look down on her. His manner of speaking to them is just the same.
“Dad, this is really important to me. I really would like to see you tonight and bring him over,” I reply, pressing him at least until he agrees to see me before the end of the week. Sometimes that’s all I can hope for, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to not lose this battle. He needs to respect me more as his only daughter.
“I’m already trying to accommodate you by bringing him over to your estate,” I continue, laying on the guilt trip just a bit thicker than I intended.
“It’s just that I don’t understand why it needs to be so urgent. I could absolutely pencil in you and your friend somewhere in my schedule, but springing this on me last minute is kind of unfair, Ivory,” he continues, almost whining a little bit as if this conversation is draining him of his very life essence. He’s so melodramatic when he’s put out even just a little bit.
“I’m pregnant, Dad,” I announce bluntly, “and the ‘friend’ I’m trying to bring over is the father of my child. You are going to meet him tonight. I’ll come even if you don’t let me in.”
There’s no reply at first. I listen closely, even for the telltale signs of breathing, but I’m convinced the line is dead. Fuck!
After about thirty seconds of me stupidly repeating, “Dad,” he clears his throat and speaks up.
“Alright, I suppose you haven’t left me much of a choice there,” he says, his voice dry and unconvincing of any sort of joy or mirth.
I sigh in relief, unhappy that he’s so hesitant to be involved in my life but grateful to at least get the awkward first meeting out of the way.
“I’ll have Anita put something nice together for us, and you can be here at around seven,” he says as unenthusiastically as possible.
“Perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much!” I reply and hang up the phone.
I release the last of my nervous breath, anxious to take in deep breaths to counteract the anxiety that’s settled in my belly. Now that he’s agreed to meet us, I have to make sure Maxim will behave. I don’t doubt his ability to be civil, I suppose, but then I remember the cigar incident, and I cringe.
Would Maxim be extremely offended if I tried to ask him to act a little more normal? In a lot of ways, his bravado is very appealing to me. The contrast between him and the men I’ve known is stark, seeing men sell out their wives and business partners for brownie points from whoever the investor of the month is.
I call Maxim to update him on the news, and he abruptly picks up the phone, haughtily asking, “what?” when I say hello.
“Um, we’re going to my father’s estate for dinner tonight at seven. Meet me here at like six, and we can go together, okay?” I say, trying to keep an inobtrusive tone in order to temper his weird mood swing.
“Good,” he replies and hangs up the phone without so much as a goodbye.
I’m deeply bothered by this. I’ve just coaxed my father into allowing this man into his home after he knocked me up, and now he’s choosing to act like a standoffish asshole without an explanation.
It must be about the baby. Is he getting nervous?
It’s clear that Maxim’s not a straight-laced, tax-paying citizen. I’ve put together that revelation all by myself. What’s not clear is whether or not this will register with my father immediately or if Maxim is able to conceal this part of him when he’s in mixed company
I don’t know how I’d be able to pretend that I was completely unaware of Maxim’s underground lifestyle when I’ve almost exclusively spent all my time with him, watching him casually drop hundreds of dollars on dinner dates with no steady job to speak of.
The danger and unpredictability of Maxim’s lifestyle is ecstasy to me. There are no cameras to smile for, nobody to speak to sweetly over cocktails and artichoke pastries in the hopes that they write something positive about me in their campaign speech.
The few people I’ve met in this realm below the elite have been so genuine, maybe exhaustingly so. Nothing to prove to anybody, just living life as they see fit without much pushback. I can’t imagine how liberating that must be.
I’ve never been in love before, but I think it’s safe to say I’m damn close. Even though the baby is the size of a kidney bean inside of me, I love it to pieces and can’t wait to raise them with Maxim by my side.
