Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
20
ANTON
The next morning, Viktor sits across from me in my office. We’ve spent most of it going over business. From setting terms on deals to opening drug operations in new territory, it’s a typical morning, running every layer of the sprawling machine that is a Bratva.
He keeps up with me, often one step ahead and already knowing what I’m about to say.
But the last thing on my list throws him off balance.
“Arrange for a gown to be made for the Grayson Ball.”
He pauses from tapping on his phone. Slowly, he lifts his face and frowns at me. “A gown?”
I nod.
“I wasn’t aware that you planned to attend.”
“The gown isn’t for me.”
He replies with a dull smirk. “You don’t say.”
I can’t hide the start of a smile.
“Unless my memory is failing me, you instructed me to RSVP declining the invitation.”
I nod again. “Your memory is working just fine.”
He opens and closes his mouth, furrowing his brow.
“That invitation and my presumptuous RSVP were before I had the chance to meet Liliana Baranova, though.”
Understanding sinks in. “Oh.”
“Oh,” I agree.
“A gown for Liliana Baranova,” he recites back to me, tapping on his phone once more. His to-do lists spawn their own sub-lists, but however he organizes them, it works. He never misses anything. Not even a beat, as he says, “I’ll contact the coordinators to update your RSVP.”
I shrug. It’s not like they’d refuse me as a guest. They count on too many donations from me to not want me there.
“If I may ask, out of pure curiosity,” he says slowly.
I lift my hand in a lazy gesture to continue. I’ll never hold his curiosity against him.
“Will Elena be in attendance at the Grayson Ball as well?”
I shrug again. “I imagine so. It’s prime hunting ground for a new man, isn’t it?”
It’s his turn to lift his shoulders and let them drop. “I suppose it is. I ask because for the last several years, on and off of course, she’s been under the impression that you’ll bring her as your plus-one.”
“Fuck her impressions,” I reply. “She’s wanted to be my date to that thing, among all the others, since the day I divorced her.” And despite her whiny protests and insistence, I’ve only gone with an escort or solo.
“Is Liliana aware you want her there that night?” he asks.
I drum my fingers on the desktop. “Yes. She’s been informed.”
“And she agreed to attend with you?” Now both his brows shoot up. It makes me want to smile. Even he’s clued into this young woman’s stubbornness and independent streak. It proves to me that it’s never been a ruse, never a version of playing hard to get. Liliana is hard to get, even for a man like me. Maybe especially for a man like me, wealthy and powerful and used to never having to convince anyone to give me a chance. Her defiance makes her all the more alluring. A sweeter prize to earn.
“Not yet,” I answer.
“I see. And you will persuade her nonetheless?”
“I will.” I sit up and fold my hands together on my desk. “Which pertains to the next thing for you to jot down on your list. Arrange for her parents’ bakery to be hired for the night. An exclusive order needs to be placed for them to fulfill.” I lift one hand and let it drop, a gesture of indifference. “Desserts, some sort of specialty baked good. Whatever fits.”
He nods along with my orders.
“Smooth it out with the coordinator,” I add.
“I’ll try.”
I raise my brows at him and he shrugs. “This close to the event, it might be hard to squeeze in an order like that.”
I laugh once. “My orders can come with any price they want.”
“Duly noted. Is this to be your grand gesture to persuade her, then?”
“It can’t hurt.” I drum my fingers on the desktop again. “From everything I’ve seen, and everything I hear from the men tailing her and keeping tabs on her, that bakery is her only goal. Her only commitment, and from the looks of it, she throws herself into it.” I think back to the food she made for us at the vacation home upstate. “She’s got talent, too, and with her education, I’m not surprised.”
“So playing to what matters to her should win her over.”
“I’m not interested in just getting her to come as my date. I’m focusing on the big picture.”
“Which is?” He frowns.
“Her surrender.” I shrug, as though it should be obvious.
“Of course.” But he doesn’t look convinced.
“What?” I ask, always welcoming his opinion as my most trusted confidante.
“I’m only curious—”
“Again,” I tease.
He almost smiles. “I’m only curious—again—about your determination to win her. Her surrender, according to you.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Talking about feelings isn’t something I ever do, but this is my oldest friend and assistant. If I can’t be straight with him about my intentions and use him as a sounding board, then I probably need to sit with this some more.