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“No flat fee?” His son gets to his feet. He’s not threatening. The pencil stick of a man is a numbers guy. Yefim keeps him at his side for the pretense of being the next in line to take over once Yefim bites it, but I sense the nephew is actually next in line. They’ll marry off the daughter to get a solid connection and the son won’t put up a fight when the nephew steps forward to make his claim.
I make a show of turning my chair to face the son. “No. No flat fee. Seven percent.” I swivel back to the father. He’s going to be the one to make the call here.
He thinks it over. My family owns the warehouses. We don’t control the ports, but getting your product off the boat is one thing. Being able to move it or store it until it’s safe to move is another.
I offer safety.
“Five,” Yefim counters.
I narrow my eyes, pretending to think it over.
“Agreed.” I push out of my chair and hold my hand out to him. He grabs it in a heavy grip. One pump with his sweaty hand and it’s done. There’s no paper trail in my world, not for these transactions.
“Excellent.” Yefim grins.
The door to my office opens, and a woman steps in. A pretty little thing, her blonde hair is wound up into a twist, which shows off the pearl drop earrings dangling from her ears. She’s wrapped in a thick red winter coat that covers her down to her black high-heeled feet; white gloves cover her hands.
“Father, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have an appointment to get to. Pytor is going to take me, I’ll meet you after,” she says to Yefim in perfect Russian. I wonder if she even speaks English.
He clears his throat. “That’s all right, my dear.” He waves her in. “Come. Your appointment can wait a few minutes. I want you to meet Roman Romanov.” He gestures toward me. “Roman, this is my daughter, Anastasia.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your meeting. I didn’t think you had arrived yet.” She spreads her red-painted lips into a perfectly rehearsed smile and steps toward me with her hand outstretched. I gently take her hand for a handshake before dropping it.
“No need for an apology.” I incline my head. No need to be disrespectful.
She licks her lips and tilts her head to the side. “I’ll let you get back to your business.” She nods in one of the demurest ways I’ve seen from a woman. If she’s trying to come off as submissive, she’s doing an amazing job.
“Anastasia, I’ll see you this afternoon. Tell Pytor to take you straight home after your shopping appointment. We need to settle your travel arrangements this afternoon for home.”
“You’re going back to Russia already?” He’s been in town barely a week, why go home so quickly?
“Not for another week, but yes,” she answers sweetly.
“Before Anastasia makes her way home, we are having a party. A celebration for our new adventures here in America. You and your fiancée should come. We can celebrate your engagement and our business arrangement.” There’s a lilt to his tone like he’s fishing for something. Maybe he’s suspecting our engagement isn’t real.
“Of course we will be there.” I glance at Anastasia, who regards me through lowered lashes.
She blushes, as though on command. It’s not a natural tint the way Billie blushes. It’s almost uncomfortable to witness.
“That would be wonderful, I think. I’m sure your fiancée will enjoy herself. Father has gone all out for this party. He wants my last night in Boston to be memorable.”
“We’ve kept you from your appointments. I hope they’re productive.” I incline my head.
“I’m sure they will be.” She gives her father a quick smile, then leaves us with a perfect sway to her hips as she balances perfectly on those obscenely high-heeled shoes.
“Well, then. I think we’ve kept you long enough.” Yefim snaps his fingers and gestures to his men to get moving. His son is the only one who offers a handshake on the way out.
“I’ll see you on Saturday then, but Maxim will be in touch.”
“Of course. Of course.” He nods as he heads for the door.
Once I’m alone, I sit in my chair and swivel to look out the window behind me. I can see clear across Boston at this height. Although there’s a light snow in the air, it’s clear enough for thin rays of sun to beat down on the city.
The Kozlovs leaving for Russia is a good thing; at least Billie might see it that way. She’ll take it to mean our engagement can end.
She’s going to be disappointed.
Billie
