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The gigantic oak door opens, and I hold my back straight, looking down at the elderly man standing before me. His hair is silver, and his face is lined with age. He stands with a poise that conveys respectability and loyalty.
“Follow me, Paige Geraldovna.”
I don’t move. “And my guards?”
He looks past me. “Two,” he says, holding up his fingers. “The rest must wait in their vehicles.”
Slava and Lev, in brand-new suits, walk a step behind me as we enter the castle, and I keep my jaw firmly shut and my eyes pointed straight ahead. Old Paige would’ve gawked at everything she passed and made silly comments, declaring she couldn’t afford a thing. But I won’t do that ever again. I carry my head high as if I expect to be surrounded by the finest.
“Paige Geraldovna.” Popov walks out into the hallway and greets me with a smile. He glances at my men and then beckons toward me. “Welcome. Let me introduce you properly to Sorokin.”
My men are allowed to enter the room, and I immediately see why. Once again, there are more guards present than players. I smile at the thin elderly man standing by a big carved table which overwhelms him. Sorokin’s steel-blue eyes are stern and piercing, indicating strength and power beneath the frail surface. This must be the dining room where he holds his meetings. I remember that day I found Andrei in the dining room discussing Emma like a piece of chattel. I toss it out of my mind immediately. I can’t risk being distracted. It will cost me dearly.
“Zdravstvuyte, Paige Geraldovna.” Sorokin holds my hand and bows over it.
“Zdravstvuyte.” I smile and take my hand away. “No patronymics here. You can just call me Paige.”
He smiles. “Of course, Americans prefer to keep things simple.”
“It’s straight to the point.” I smile, noting the cut behind his comment. “Just like good business,” I add.
He smiles again, a little less friendly this time, and we take our seats.
“So, Paige. I was intrigued when Popov said you wished to speak to me in private. He was not at liberty to tell me the nature of your business, but he promised I would be interested.”
“I think you will be,” I reply confidently.
“And your husband doesn’t mind you being here on your own?” he asks.
“It concerns my late father, not my husband. You know who my father was, don’t you?” I ask.
Sorokin nods. “Yes, an accountant.”
“An accountant that stole from you.”
The smile falls from his smug face as if I had slapped it off, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“It must have been an insufficient amount.” Sorokin scoffs. “If I can’t even recall his name.”
I glance at his guards, then slightly lean in and lower my voice. “Nevertheless, I would like to return the fifty million to you.”
The room is silent. Popov orders his men to leave, but I do not return his gesture. My men will remain. I explain the situation as concisely as I can. I talk about it as if it had happened to another woman, not me. Old Paige endured it, not me. I’ve changed.
“I have my own terms,” I state firmly as my story ends. “As I’m sure you expect.”
“What are those terms?” asks Sorokin cagily.
“After I return the money to each Bratva, my family’s debt ends. All of it.”
He nods his head thoughtfully. “Do you want to be present during the transactions?”
I shake my head. “All I want is a written statement. A few lines in a card thanking me for my generous contribution should suffice. And wishing me well in the future. All sworn upon your honor.”
“You were right, Popov.” Sorokin dips his head. “Andrei Vasilyevich chose the right woman to marry after all.” He looks at me unblinkingly. “I hope he will earn your trust again.”
I can’t speak as unwanted emotions choke my throat. I get up a little too fast and hold out my hand again. “Thank you, but I must be getting back. In my condition …”
“I understand,” He probably doesn’t, and mentioning it has made him eager to see me leave. Sorokin shakes my hand, and Popov follows us to the front door while we idly chat.
