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“I didn’t know he was part of your… organization until a few days before your goons kidnapped me. As soon as I found out, I ended it. I have no desire to be affiliated with any of you.”
“Be that as it may, here you are…affiliated.”
“Ifaffiliatedmeans being held prisoner,” she said.
He stopped pacing. “It’s in your best interest to think about what you might know. Think back to your conversations. Nothing is too small to mention. A meeting, plans for the future, a name.”
“I told you, I don’t know anything. Roman never talked business with me. If he had, I would have figured out his identity and it would’ve been over between us.”
“That’s a shame,” Igor said, his expression as placid as ever. “I was hoping to make you more comfortable while we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For my son to come to his senses.” He started for the door, continuing without turning to look at her. “Let the guards know if you remember anything. My offer stands.”
3
Adam
Adam clenched his fists, steeling himself against the sound of Olivia’s whining.
This wasn’t what he’d imagined it would be like to have full custody of his daughter.
“Eat your breakfast, Olivia. Now.”
“I hate pancakes.” She glared at her plate, sat back in her chair, and folded her small arms across the Little Mermaid on her T-shirt. It was her favorite shirt, and Adam had taken to washing it almost nightly to avoid the tantrums she threw when she couldn’t wear it the next day.
Just another fucking thing on his plate.
“You said you wanted pancakes,” Adam said through his teeth.
“Now I hate them,” Olivia said, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.
Once upon a time, the tears would have moved him. But that was before he’d struck the deal with Igor Kalashnik, before Ruby had gone “missing,” before Olivia had come to live with him full-time, against the protests of Ruby’s father and her bitch of a sister.
Adam stalked to the table and picked up the plate, then tossed the whole thing in the garbage, fork and all. “Fine. Go brush your teeth.”
The tantrums that had once been a rarity now occurred on a daily — sometimes hourly — basis. He knew if Ruby were here she would tell him Olivia was “acting out” or “regressing” or some other bullshit aimed at making Adam feel like shit for working with Igor Kalashnik.
Lately he’d just started to wonder if his adorable daughter was a fucking brat.
“I already brushed them,” Olivia said.
Adam sighed. “No, you didn’t, and you know how I feel about lying.”
“I did,” Olivia insisted.
Her pout didn’t bode well for the rest of the morning. She was digging in, prepared to fight him on anything and everything.
“Did,” she said.
He stalked back to the table, his blood boiling, and grabbed her arm. He pulled her from the chair and set her on her feet.
“Ow!” she bellowed. “You hurt my arm!”
“Stop being a baby,” he said. “Go brush your teeth.”
They were running late. Again. And Adam had a department meeting in just over an hour.
