He raises his eyebrows. "Why not? Fresh blood's good for the ranks." He wipes his mouth and gawks at me while I chew and swallow politely before answering.
"We'll keep the five I picked out and send them to Kazimir to be lined up, but just have the others come back for the next round. I have a problem I need to deal with first."
Yegor cocks his head and shrugs one shoulder as he picks up his mug and sips. "The Radin girl."
"The Radin family," I correct, leaning back in my chair. "Specifically, Vera Koval-Radin and this mess of her daughters…" Anton never crossed my mind until last night, and now I can't get him or his legacy out of my mind. I'm not the type for hostile takeovers. The way I run my organization is so streamlined and smooth, we hardly have to think about issues. But hearing all that real estate and authority are wide open has tempted me like a line of cocaine on an addict’s table.
Yegor hugs both hands around his coffee mug and asks, "What do you want to know about her?"
"Everything—I want to know if she's running the Radin organization or if someone else is pulling strings while she plays the widow." The food is delicious, but the more I talk, the colder it grows. "And I want to know if Radin was her first husband. Likely not, since she has two daughters who bear a different name. So let's find out her past. And let's find out where she came from, what sort of life she's been living." Finally, I take another bite and chew thoughtfully while going over what I already know about Vera.
"You think she's more than she appears."
"I think she sent her stepdaughter to steal from me and then offered me her real daughters in the same breath. That tells me something about what she values and what she's willing to do." It was such a disgusting slight of hand to feed me Mila like a ravenous beast devours prey while offering me temptation in the form of power with her other hand. It sickens me just thinking of it.
Yegor grunts and says, "I'll have Timur start digging. He's good at that shit, Boss."
"Yes," I grumble, "I know… Tell him I want it done quietly. No one needs to know I'm asking about Vera yet."
"And the girl?"
"I'll handle her."
Yegor drinks his coffee and finishes his breakfast, then leaves with the folder under his arm. And I sit there for a few more minutes thinking about Mila off in my staff quarters somewhere with the women I employ. I wonder what she's told them about me, or what they've shared about me to her. I've never made any attempt to mask what I am and what I do.
Sorin and Rebecca know almost everything about my business because I hold meetings while they serve. And they're wise beyond their years and keep my secrets, likely because they’ve also seen when I've dealt out punishment to those deserving.
I drain my coffee and head to my office, where Radimir's standing outside the door, and he straightens when he sees me coming. I nod at him and walk past as I say, "Bring me the Radin girl."
"Yes, sir," he snaps back, and off he goes to do my bidding while I park at my desk and begin pulling up my computer.
When Mila walks in she's wearing the same black dress and white apron that all the staff wear and her hair is pulled back from her face. She doesn't look like Anton Radin's daughter anymore. She looks like someone who works in my house. I have to wonder which of them loaned her the dress, because it isn't the same one she wore last night, but it fits her well.
I study her for a moment as she stands with her head erect and her posture straight. "Come in," I say. "Close the door."
She steps inside, and Radimir pulls the door shut behind her. But Mila doesn't approach my desk. She stands in the center of the room staring at me blankly. There's no hint of the same fear she had last night, nor of the indignation she showed when I burned that precious letter of hers. She's lucky I didn't just kill her anyway. There's not one man alive who could attest to the validity of that letter. I could well have pretended I had no clue what it meant, but my own conscience could not help but bear witness.
And living with an unclean conscience is worse than being imprisoned. I've done both. I'd rather live by my morals now.
"Did the staff treat you well last night?" I ask, turning back to my reports to feign disinterest, but I'm highly curious. Mila is an heiress. It's likely she's never had to work a day in her life, nor sleep in such meager conditions. What's good for my staff may not be what she's accustomed to, and I'd like to hear what she thinks.
"They were kind."
"Good. That's what I pay them for."
Mila remains silent, staring straight ahead and not looking at me. I steal a glance and realize it when she doesn't try to meet my gaze. Either something is broken in her or she's been conditioned this way, which seems odd. I wonder what sort of family she's come from.
"How are you finding your accommodations?"
"I'd like to go home," she says plainly. "Today."
I almost laugh, but I manage to clear my throat and catch it as a smile without letting the sound escape. "This is your home now, Ms. Radin. You aren't going back to that place."
"No," she says firmly and turns to meet my gaze finally. "This is where you're keeping me. This is not my home and it will never be. Now, I'd like to go to my home where my belongings are." Her eyes narrow on me, but she doesn't use an angry tone.
"You stole from me."
"I'm aware. I don't need reminded." Mila sighs and turns back to stare off into the distance while I ponder what I might do with her.
