Denis finally moves, nodding toward the waiter and tapping the rim of his glass in a gesture for another.
I set my water down and meet Ivan’s eyes. “Then say what you came to say.”
“Well… it’s my daughter.”
Tatiana. Of course.
“She’s upset,” he says. “Hurt.”
“About what?” It’s a rhetorical question and I already know the answer. But I don’t care. What we had was a long time ago.
“You.” There’s menace in his voice now. “She says you made promises.”
I tilt my head. “Not sure what you heard, but I didn’t make any promises. I never do unless I intend to keep them. I ended it. Clean.”
“Some promises can be made without speaking, my boy. She feels...” He waves his hand through the air as he speaks, as if clearing smoke. “Misled.”
“She feels humiliated,” I correct. “She saw me with someone new recently. That’s not the same thing.”
Denis finally speaks, low and blunt. “You should’ve kept her in the shadows if you weren’t serious. Not parading her around like you two had a future together.”
I turn to him slowly. “I don’t keep women. Not to mention, she was the one who insisted upon all of the fancy public outings.”
The mood shifts. It seems as if Ivan had been heated up and ready to go, but now that he’s seeing reality, remembering how his daughter is, he’s cooling down a bit.
Ivan nods. “We’re not asking for apologies. But this is my daughter we’re talking about. I can’t just tell her I walked away empty-handed. Perhaps a kind gesture. Nikolai, my late brother’s son. He and Tatiana have always been close. He’s been hoping for an executive role in Ivanov Holdings. Why not let him have a spot?”
I lean back in my chair and take a slow breath. “I know Nikolai, he couldn’t manage a lemonade stand. And you know damn well I don’t hand out titles like that. I already did you a favor by bringing Tatiania on board even after we’d ended things.”
Ivan stares at me like he’s weighing whether to throw his drink or the table. Denis smiles, thin and practiced.
“You’re not your father.”
“I’m not,” I agree.
Silence stretches. My phone buzzes. Astrid. I shift slightly to read the message.
We need to talk. Information about the accounts.
I tap the phone off and slide it into my pocket, heart beating a little faster.
“Well,” Ivan says after a beat, swirling the last of his wine. “If we can’t talk about positions, perhaps we can talk about partnerships. Mutual interests.”
I exhale through my nose. My instinct is to walk away. To let him bluster and pout all the way back to his penthouse and tell Tatiana I told him to shove it. But this isn’t just about bruised egos. Not if the paper trail Astrid’s following leads where I think it does. If Spalding’s in bed with the Colombians and the Abramovs are possibly circling the same drain, then I need eyes everywhere.
I lean back, watching Ian over steepled fingers. “Nikolai.”
Ivan raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
“He can have a role,” I say. “Something real enough to be respected. Not an executive chair, but not window dressing either. He’ll have a chance to prove himself.”
A long pause. Ivan blinks, slow, satisfied. “That’s very generous of you.”
I offer a thin smile. “Call it loyalty, with a careful eye on my business.”
Ivan knows there’s a hook coming. He’s right.
“However,” I continue, “I want something in return. A show of good faith.”
