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I drape an arm around her shoulder and pull her and Samuil close. “Nothing could ruin this.”
“I believe you,” Monica says. “Especially given everything the two of you have been through this year. Is it true you’ve left Viktorov Industries, Timofey?”
As nice as Monica seems, I know agotchaquestion when I hear one. “I was removed as CEO in a board vote just prior to the fire, actually. I didn’t walk away willingly.”
“You’re referencing the fire that killed your adoptive father?”
I nod. “Yes. Unfortunately, he was one of the men lost in that tragedy.”
“This is where those nasty rumors come in,” she says. “Some people think the fire was a cover up.”
“People love to gossip,” Piper says.
Samuil is stirring in her arms, but she strokes her finger down his chubby cheek. He has her coloring—pale, peachy skin, and a head full of red waves.
Monica nods in agreement. “It’s not hard to see where the roots of these rumors stem from, though. Two of the wealthiest men in the city dead in the same fire? It’s almost unbelievable.”
“Backroom deals have to happen somewhere, don’t they? My father and Kreshnik Xhuvani were working together, forging an alliance during the annual Viktorov Industries gala. They couldn’t have known death was lurking just around the corner.”
I find great joy in repackaging the truth. Nothing I said is a direct lie, but there is some pertinent information missing.
Most importantly, that I was ‘Death.’
“Did you support your father’s alliance with one of his biggest competitors?” Monica asks shrewdly. “If you’d remained with Viktorov Industries, would you have seen that deal through to the end?”
“I haven’t considered it. I’m not with Viktorov Industries, so that decision is out of my purview. I am happy to look to the future.”
Monica’s mouth puckers. We aren’t quite giving her the hot and juicy story she was hoping for, I can tell. She turns to Piper.
“While you haven’t done any interviews for the last year, your father certainly has. I have noted here, let’s see… fourteen separate interviews he has done with the press. Most of them complain that he has been cut out of your life.”
Piper blinks placidly. “I’m not here to answer for the actions of my father. He is my blood relation, but I can’t control him anymore than he has controlled me.”
Not anymore, I think.
“‘Blood relation?’” Monica wrinkles her nose. “That’s a little cold.”
Piper sighs. “I just don’t want to—”
“Next question,” I interject.
“I know family can be difficult, but wouldn’t you rather answer some of these questions and dispense the rumors?”
I narrow my eyes. “Next question, Monica.”
The reporter looks from me to Piper and back again, searching for a way through our strong front. But Piper circles her finger across my bicep and presses her leg closer to mine. We’re as close as possible without her being in my lap.
We’re impenetrable, and Monica knows it.
She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and glances down at her notes. “Let’s go back to the trial. That just wrapped up and your former best friend was sentenced to prison. How do you feel about that?”
I’m half-poised to jump in for Piper and shut down the line of questioning, but she lifts her chin and faces it head on. “I love the people in my life and want what is best for them, but I will not excuse illegal behavior. Noelle and her boyfriend broke the law, and I’m satisfied that they are being appropriately punished.”
“With fraudulent activity so close to you, what do you say to people who are concerned with your new charity?”
“Why would people be concerned with her charity?” I ask. “Piper wasn’t the one on trial.”
Monica swallows nervously. “No. But she was friends with—”
