30
FRANCIA
I thought he would come around.
Cora is wide-eyed. Naive. She doesn’t know how to take care of herself. How can Ivan think she’ll be able to take care of him? She is a helpless little girl trapped in a useless woman’s body.
I hate that I was right.
I hate that I knew Ivan would choose her. All I had to do was send her teetering in his direction and he fell for her.
No—he fell for me.
Everything he wants is because I told him to want it. So why can’t I make him want this? Want me?
I lift my chin as I pass through the kitchen. The maids think they are hiding well enough in the pantry, but I can see the light coming from under the door. Tittering. Mocking me.
I’ll come back for them later.
Right now, I need to take care of my husband-to-be.
Men know what they want, but they have no fucking clue what they need. Ivan needs a real woman. He needs a partner who can carry the weight of power alongside him. Cora would buckle under the strain. She can’t do for Ivan what he needs. She can’t do what I’m going to do for him.
He’ll see it. I know he will.
Ivan will open his eyes to the prize standing in front of him or… or I’ll get rid of him, too. I’ll get rid of everyone in my way.
The phone rings six times before there’s an answer. “You know I’m busy,” he snaps. “What do you need that is so—”
“Get rid of her.”
There’s a pause. “Who?”
“You know who,” I hiss. “Who the fuck else? I want her out of the picture now.”
There’s a long pause. I sigh. Another man who doesn’t know what he needs. Do I have to do fucking everything around here?
“Francia, there are things in motion that can’t be rushed. We have to go through the proper channels and—”
“Shut the fuck up and do what I tell you. Get rid of Cora.”
He starts to say something, but the retort is lost as I hang up the phone.
“Ivan doesn’t know what is best for him, but I do,” I whisper. “I’m going to be his queen whether he likes it or not.”