“Crystal clear, sir. Within the hour, I will have the team put together and active,” he says.
The call ends, and I shove my phone into my back pocket.
“We’ll get you, Misha. You can’t keep getting away with this. Your time is up,” I mutter. I tried to do things the nice way. I tried to go and speak to him. I even gave him a chance to tell his side of the story to prove Artur wrong. But in the end, Artur was right, and Misha needs to learn a lesson or two about thinking he’s above everyone else.
He can’t do whatever he wants and get away with it.
I walk back to my desk and sit down, ready to focus on renewing my defense plans around the warehouses. If I can puttogether a new security system, all of the guys in my alliance can set it up at their properties as well. Good defense is the first offense.
I need to figure out how Misha got around the system I have in place.
I’m hyper-focused on my work when my phone rings, dragging me out of deep concentration.
A glance at the screen knots my stomach tightly, instantly sending a chill down my spine.
Paul Gregori. My father.
I’ve been waiting for him to rear his ugly head for such a long time, but why does it have to be now?
“Paul,” I mutter as I answer the phone.
“My son, it’s been so long. How are you keeping? I hope things are well?” he says, friendly and fake.
“What do you want?” I snap. “Let’s skip the pretense and get right to it.”
“I expected more of a happy reunion for your father, but alright, maybe I caught you on a bad day,” he chuckles.
“What do you want, Paul?” I snap again.
“I want to take you out to dinner. We can catch up, have a chat. It’ll be good for us to get together. What day can you see me? Tonight? I’ll book us a private booth at Le’Surge?”
I flex my jaw, agitated and wanting this call to end.
“No, I’m not meeting you tonight or any night. Look, I’ve got things to do. Have a good day, Paul,” I say, ready to hang up.
“You can bring Maria if you like?” he says loudly into the phone, giving me pause.
He knows about Maria. Fuck.
The only reason he would ever mention her name is in the form of a threat. This isn’t a dinner invitation. It’s a threat. If I don’t go, he’s making it clear he’ll come after her.
What does he know about her? What is he planning?
“Maria is unavailable for dinner,” I tell him.
“Well, maybe you’ll reconsider and still come?” he pushes.
“What time?” I snarl, agitated and annoyed that he put me in a position where I have no choice. But I really do have no choice. I can’t risk him doing something to her. I need to see him face-to-face and try to figure out what he’s up to.
I just wish it didn’t happen now, when all this other shit is going on as well.
“Seven, tonight at Le’Surge. Don’t be late.”
My father hangs up, proving it was never about being friendly or polite. He just wants control.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Maria safe.
If I have to blackmail that asshole to keep him away from her, I will.
