“Of course. Don’t let us keep you.” Alexi steps back. “Maybe we’ll see you around.”
She nods and walks away quickly, practically fleeing.
Once she’s out of earshot, Alexi whistles low. “Dad. She’s gorgeous.”
“I know.”
“No, like, really gorgeous. And she seems smart. Put-together. The kind of woman who has her life figured out.”
“She doesn’t.”
“What?”
“Have her life figured out.” I watch her disappear around the corner. “Her mother died three months ago. Her boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend. She moved to New York to start over, and then I walked into her life and told her we’re married.”
Alexi is quiet for a moment. “Damn.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t give up, then.”
The meeting is at 3:00 PM in a conference room at the Mandarin Oriental. A real estate deal I’ve been working on for months. Prime property in Midtown, perfect for my next hotel development.
Silas is with me, along with my lawyers. The sellers are already there when we arrive, three men in expensive suits who stand when I enter.
“Mr. Volkov.” The lead seller, James Peterson, shakes my hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“Let’s get this done.”
We sit, and Peterson pulls out the contracts. “Everything’s in order. We’re ready to sign as soon as?—”
The door opens, and Dmitri Kozlov walks in.
The temperature in the room drops about twenty degrees. My lawyers exchange glances. Silas’s hand moves toward his jacket, but I shake my head slightly.
Not here. Not now.
Dmitri stops when he sees me. For a long moment, we just stare at each other, five years of hatred hanging in the air between us.
Then he smiles. “Ledger Volkov. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Dmitri.” I keep my voice even. “I didn’t know you were involved in this deal.”
“I could say the same.” He takes a seat across from me, casual as anything. Like we’re old friends instead of enemies. “Mr. Peterson, you didn’t mention Mr. Volkov would be here.”
Peterson looks like he wants to crawl under the table. “I…both parties expressed interest. I thought?—”
“You thought you could play us against each other,” Dmitri finishes. “Drive up the price.”
“That’s not?—”
“It’s exactly what you thought.” I lean back in my chair. “And it was stupid.”
Dmitri nods. “Agreed. Very stupid.”
Peterson is sweating now. “Gentlemen, perhaps we can discuss this civilly?—”
“We are being civil,” Dmitri says. “If we weren’t, Mr. Peterson, you’d know it.”
Peterson’s lawyers look ready to bolt.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to my accountant. Then I look at Dmitri. “I’ll buy you out. Name your price.”
