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"Only her first name." Tony shrugs, flicking ashes onto the floor. "Look, Boris, I don't know what you want with her, but she's gone. You oughta focus on your own business."
"Come on, Tony, there's got to be something more." I clench my fists, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Did she have any friends here? Anyone who might know where she went?"
Tony studies me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "She was hardly here long enough to make friends."
“Come on, there must be something you know!”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I got nothin’ more.”
"Tony, I really need to find her." The desperation in my voice surprises even me. I take a deep breath and try to regain my composure. "If you hear anything about her, let me know."
"Sure thing." Tony waves me off, already turning his attention back to the dancers on stage. "But don't get your hopes up."
Disappointment crushes me when I exit the club. It seems like Robin has vanished, leaving only a ghostly memory behind. I can't help but wonder if our paths will ever cross again or if fate has anything else in store for us.
"Focus, Boris," I mutter under my breath, trying to shake off the thoughts of Robin. Even I’m starting to realize how insane I sound. My quest to find a girl whose face I never saw seems ridiculous.
What the hell is wrong with me? If I met myself in the past, I would punch me in the face. My family needs me to concentrate on our business, not chase after some girl. I've worked too hard to let distractions get in the way of my success.
I need to forget about her. What other choice do I have when I don't even know her last name?
I can’t let myself drown in my disappointment. I pull out my phone and scroll through my emails, skimming through the latest updates on our business ventures. I send a few quick messages to my brothers, promising to meet up with them soon to discuss our plans.
The investors still haven’t scheduled a meeting. I need to do something that brings them back to our table.
"Alright," I say to myself, "time to get back to work."
***
It’s another late night. I sit at my desk, hunched over stacks of papers and spreadsheets, working over a new proposal for our investors.
I’ve been at this for weeks. Some nights, I sleep in the office. If I stop working, I think of her. So I work until I pass out.
What started off as a method to distract myself from Robin has actually become a beacon of hope. The investors never came back for a new meeting, so I need to find a way to hook them in.
I’ve been sitting with Damien and strategizing. What was previously a resort with a casino has now been changed to a high-rise hotel. It might seem counterintuitive, but this way, we can accommodate many more people and gain more foot traffic in the casino. The entire ground floor and basement will be a casino designed as a double-floored luxury escape.
There will be slot machines, private poker tables, blackjack, and every other betting game on the planet. We’ll have an in-house restaurant, nap pods, massage chairs, and even an open bar. The more comfortable people are, the longer they’ll play. The longer they play, the more we win. It’s a proposal so good, so strong, that I know some—if not all—investors would be on board.
"Alright," I mutter under my breath, running my fingers through my hair, "Let's show them what the Zolotov family is truly capable of."
I spend hours on end analyzing numbers, refining strategies, and outlining our vision for a more prosperous future.
Finally, after countless revisions and sleepless nights, I complete the proposal and send it off to our investors with bated breath. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for their responses, hoping that they'll see the potential in our plans and trust us once again.
"Come on, come on," I whisper to myself, pacing back and forth across the office floor as hours pass by.
The next morning, one by one, positive responses filter into my inbox, each filled with praise and renewed faith in our endeavors. My spirits soar with each message, knowing that we're one step closer to success. Anatoly Popov is back on board, and so is his team. They want to schedule a call for the following Monday!
However, my excitement is short-lived when an email from Gerald Russo catches my eye—his words dripping with disdain and anger.
"Zolotov, you think this pretty presentation will change anything? You've already humiliated us once. I don't trust you or your brothers, and I'm not afraid to take legal action if necessary for immoral conduct."
My fists clench at my sides as rage boils within me. How dare he threaten my family like this? But beneath the anger, I know that I can't afford to alienate Russo. Ivan has immense trust in him, and being failed by Russo might cause trouble between Ivan and me.
"Dammit," I curse under my breath, my thoughts racing as I contemplate my next move.
"Alright, Russo," I mumble to myself, "I won't let you destroy everything I've worked for. Whether you like it or not, you will respect us again."
