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O:My manor on 78th and 5th.
Raizo polishes off his tea and munches on a rice cake. “He used to be one of my best customers. Still is. Just not as frequently.”
I keep my eyes on my phone screen as a sort of mask over my own internal responses. Because now, my mind is whirringthrough the possibilities regarding my father. “It’s too bad he missed your recent auction.”
“Oh, he was there.”
“I didn’t see him at the cocktail party.”
Raizo chuckles. “Well, you know him. Everything has to be so fucking exclusive for his tastes. He never wants to ‘mingle with the rabble,’ as he so delicately put it when he RSVP’d.”
“And you didn’t think to warn me?” I’m taking slow, deep breaths and doing my damned hardest to not sound like I’m seething with rage.
Raizo shrugs. “Your family issues are not my business.”
“Aren’t they?”
This is it—the standoff between us that feels long overdue. Raizo stares at me, his face unreadable. I return the same expression, both of us unwilling to let the other see the cracks in our facade.
We don’t move.
We don’t speak.
The only difference is, there’s fear in his eyes.
Fear, and a rolling realization that the jig is up; the curtain has been yanked aside. I’m onto him. He can’t hide from me anymore.
“In any case,” I say to break the silence, “time for me to run. Business meetings and all. Thanks for the tea.”
The first person to break the silence is the one who loses. I know that and I know he knows that. I want him to feel this smallvictory, to think that I’m rattled by his revealed control over all the different aspects of my life. My father, my enemies, my woman.
It’s that last part that makes me hesitate at the front door.
Because that’s what she was to me. Clara was my woman. I was too stupid and too blind to see it or accept it, but we had a relationship that deserved far better treatment than I gave it.
And fuckingRaizois sitting over there, calmly sipping his tea, as if he didn’t rip her from my arms and sell her to some monster on the other side of the world.
My fists clench.
I could do it. I could turn back around and beat the ever-living shit out of him. I could break both his arms and sear his smug face on the hibachi before his Yakuza swarms the place.
It’s the vibration of my phone in my pocket that saves me from doing something stupid. “What?”
“Something felt like I needed to call rather than text.” Pavel’s arched brow is practically audible over the phone. “Everything good?”
I shoulder through the front door and decide to take a walk around the block to calm my shot nerves. “Clara was right—Raizo is up to something. I need to know how far it goes before we take him out.”
Pavel whistles low. “Wow. Okay, what do ya got? I’ll put my feelers out.”
“He knows about Oleg. He knows Oleg is in town, and apparently Daddy Dearest was an honored guest at the auction. Didn’t think to tell me. Or maybe decided not to on purpose.”
There’s a long, heavy pause on Pavel’s end. Then, “You don’t think…”
“I don’t know what to think without getting a fucking migraine. Let’s start with Oleg and see just how cozy those two are. Oh, and you’re coming with me for a visit.”
“Oh. Lovely.” No small amount of sarcasm drips from Pavel’s voice. “Shall I bring a bottle of wine?”
“Only if it’s poisoned.”
