Page 82 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

Igor checked his watch. “I better head out, then. You think?”

Vaslav didn’t even care about the time, or the length of it that it would take Igor to arrive at the meeting place. “What’s it matter if you’re late? The prick isn’t about to complain when he thinks you’re delivering him a hundred million dollars. Whether it’s five minutes or thirty, Feliks Abramov won’t give a shit as long as you show up.”

The bastard was who he was. Greedy to an extreme. Never willing to turn the chance to get one up on someone else down. If getting what he wanted meant doing exactly what he thought he had to, no excuses even if the demands by Vaslav included a last-minute meeting in practically the middle of nowhere to collect his money owed, then that’s precisely what Feliks would do. In the end, the man’s behaviors and motives stemmed from the same thing regardless of how it presented itself.

Manipulation.

Like leopards, Abramovs also couldn’t change their spots. Vaslav expected nothing less.

“A matter of semantics,” Igor responded dully.

“Or is it one of respect,” Vaslav returned, “that Feliks, mind you, has never deserved.”

Igor pondered that statement.

Vaslav let him.

Besides, he needed the moment to massage away some of the tension and pressure forming behind his eyeballs. He regularly considered carrying around a spork just in case the urge to spoon his eyes out of their sockets ever became too much. At this point, he might follow through.

“No matter why I decide to show up on time,” Igor said, bringing Vaslav back to the conversation at hand, “at the end of the day, I would just like to get this over and done with.”

“Right. One more thing crossed off your growing list.”

Igor grunted at that, spinning on his heels to head around the rear of the vehicle. “You said it, boss, not me.”

Igor squinted one eye up at the darkening sky. With the sun setting fast, soon the overcast grey would be a black canvas with no stars. Just silent snowfall for God only knew how many days.

“Any change on the weather report?” he asked.

“Expected to be mild next month.”

“Yeah, but that’s next month,” Vaslav mumbled.

“What’s that you said?” Igor asked, popping his head over the top of the SUV before he opened the driver’s door. “Did you say you wanted to come?”

No. That wasn’t what he said at all. Not even close.

But it wasn’t a bad idea.

“I suppose I better come,” Vaslav said, pushing off the steps to stand and taking the time to brush the wayward snowflakes from his jacket and dark wash denim jeans. It was the only time of year he cared to wear such a heavy, irritating fabric because it did okay in the cold. “Wouldn’t want you hitting a bump or something, and ruining everything before Feliks realizes what I’ve done.”

Igor’s blank stare over the roof of the SUV didn’t waver from Vaslav as he approached the vehicle. It was only once Vaslav came to stand at the passenger door that his head of security glanced to the rear with concern writing lines on his brow and bald head.

“You wanted to load the duffels up,” Igor said.

Bored with the obvious, Vaslav didn’t respond and instead, wrenched open the passenger side door.

“All the bands are cut, and the bags are diff—”

“Are we driving, or no?” Vaslav asked.

Igor openly glowered. “At least tell me what shit we’re about to step in before we do it.”

Vaslav grinned. “Trust me, this is better to watch.”

19.

“Would you have done it?” Igor asked.