“Mama?” Brady stood in the living room archway. Boris stood behind him, basketball tucked under his arm.
The child’s presence subdued the developer. I took advantage of the momentary silence to think through a solution. The best course seemed to be carrying through.
“Mr. Haroldson—”
“You said it was Harrison,” Rayko muttered to Ivan, who shrugged.
I glared at them. “Zip it,” I snapped. Turning back to our reluctant guest, I took a deep breath. “My sincerest apologies for the circumstances. This was not how I wanted to welcome you to my home.”
The developer glared at me.
Ivan stilled. I shot him a glance, seeing something hungry and feral dance through his black gaze. I was too furious at him to acknowledge the intimate moment, so I let it pass.
“Brady, run and grab me a scissors so I can cut these zip ties off,” I instructed.
“Sure, mama! But…” Brady frowned. “We don’t run with scissors. Right?”
I bit my tongue and counted to five.
“Right, bud,” I said with a forced smile.
He took off. Boris leaned against the archway, taking in the sight. He said something I didn’t understand to the others, and Rayko snorted.
“Enough,” I snapped. “Mr. Haroldson, what these brutesfailedto accomplish was inviting you here for a wholesome family dinner so that we could casually discuss our situation. That’s all. Any violence or threats were just bad manners on their part. If you’d rather have dinner with just me and my son, we’ll oblige, but I made a lot of food, and I would like the others to be there if theypromise to behave.”
I ignored Ivan’s outburst about being kicked out. He’d messed up, and I was dead serious about the consequences.
Brady skidded to a halt beside me and handed me the scissors. I gestured to the developer’s wrists. Haroldson glared at me but turned his body slightly so that I could reach the bindings at his back. The audible snip filled the room.
“It does smell good in here,” Haroldson grumped, shooting unspoken threats in Ivan’s direction. “I suppose a bite or two would be fine, since you went to all that trouble.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. Handing Brady the scissors, I bid him go wash up. “You three idiots join him,” I ordered, planting my hands on my hips.
Ivan jerked his chin, a silent command for his men to listen to me. The beast stayed put, hovering near the front door, watching for trouble.
“Can I fix you a cocktail or grab you a glass of lemonade?” I tried to make my voice sound breezy and light. Inside, I was a writhing mess of nerves. Sweat coated my palms, and my fingers shook.
“Scotch?” Haroldson rubbed his wrists.
“On the rocks or neat?” I asked, already escaping to the kitchen.
“Rocks.” Haroldson followed, probably not wanting to stay anywhere close to Ivan. He let out a short whistle. “This kitchen is incredible. How long ago was it done?”
I paused to look around at the new cabinets, countertops, and appliances. “Just a few weeks ago. I forget the exact date.”
The developer hummed. “I started in my dad’s construction business with my brother. We built houses all up and down the Elk Grove area. But once I got the hang of it, I started remodeling older places. Breathing fresh life into the things that had fallen into disrepair.”
He took the scotch and muttered his thanks.
“I love what they’ve done to the place,” I agreed. “It was a wreck when we first moved in, but now it feels like home.”
I didn’t meet Ivan’s gaze as I spoke.
The more times I said it, maybe the kingpin would finally hear and believe me.
“You work with your brother, right?” I added, keeping the conversation flowing.
Haroldson nodded. “I run the business side of the projects, Jeff runs our crews.”
