“Because they wanted to do their research,” Clarice said in a tired voice.“You’d barely taken over the business.There were rumors about your intelligence and modern ideas, but the Bratva thought it gossip.Your family had never been a threat before.”
“Who wanted to learn about me?”Mikhail prodded.
Clarice hesitated.“Konstantine Smirnoff.”
Mikhail paused, his mind busy processing the information.“Konstantine has a son.Pavel.”
“Yes, Pavel is a disappointment to his father.He is not an intelligent man.”
“I’ve heard stories that Konstantine is ill.”
“Konstantine is dying and doesn’t trust his son with his business.”
“He wants to pressure me into taking over?”
“That wasn’t his immediate goal.I assume his plan changed once he learned he was sick.He wants his legacy to continue.”
Mikhail barked out a laugh.“I’d never agree to that.Never.”He rubbed his chin, considering the angles.“If Konstantine calls you, give him my number and tell him to call me direct.”
“Pride,” Clarice said.“The man has an abundance of ego, and he hates to admit his son doesn’t have the brains or the passion to hold everything.You won’t change your mind?”
“No,” Mikhail said without hesitation.“I refuse to do business with a man who’d use a woman and child.Clarice, you should’ve told me earlier.”
“You would’ve helped me?”Scorn and doubt rippled through her words.“I’ve had an agenda and played you like a fish, yet you offer help?”
“Yes,” Mikhail said.
When his driver stopped outside the hospital, Mikhail helped Clarice inside and waited until a nurse took charge of her.
His driver was waiting for him, leaning against the car’s body that now bore myriad scratches along the doors and a sizable dent in the front.
“How bad is the damage?”Mikhail asked, wincing at the dinged panels.
His driver gave a Gaelic shrug, his mouth twisting as he met Mikhail’s gaze.“The car is drivable.That’s all that matters.”
“Take me home, please.”
“Yes, sir.”The driver opened the rear door for Mikhail.Once seated, Mikhail called Ivan.“Everything okay at the house?”
“Yes.”
“Good.Our problems are making sense now.It’s Konstantine Smirnoff creating the chaos.He’s sick and is dying.With his limited time, he’s running out of patience.”
“Smirnoff?”
“Yes, and Clarice was in this from the start.She has a six-year-old son, and they’re holding him to ensure she behaves and follows orders.”
“Bastards,” Ivan muttered.
“Yeah, I’m on my way home.Should be there in half an hour.”
Mikhail rang his grandfather, uncaring that he’d wake the elderly man.The phone rang eight times before someone picked it up.
“Who is ringing me at this ungodly hour?”a querulous voice demanded.
“Grandfather, it’s Mikhail.When did you intend to tell me your best friend, Konstantine Smirnoff, was the one trying to jerk me around and force me into doing unpalatable things?The girl you insisted I marry is his daughter.”
“Konstantine thinks you’ll make a fine addition to his family.”
