He leaned over her shoulder to look at the paperwork she was examining. She was right—there was definitely a discrepancy in the dates that someone had hoped would go unnoticed.
“Good catch,” he said, genuinely impressed. “Most people wouldn’t have noticed that.”
“Most people probably aren’t looking for it. But when you grow up in this world, you learn to spot the inconsistencies.” She set the manifest aside and picked up another document. “This one’s interesting too. Payment authorization for a consulting fee that’s three times the usual rate, paid to a company that was incorporated two weeks ago.”
She was right again. He’d been so focused on the big-picture crisis management that he’d missed the smaller details, the kind of accounting irregularities that could indicate everything from simple mistakes to elaborate embezzlement schemes.
“You have a good eye for this,” he said.
“I had good teachers. Matvei used to make me review contracts and financial statements when I was in high school, saying it was important for me to understand how the business worked, even if I wasn’t going to be directly involved.”
“But you never were directly involved?”
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Are you kidding? My brothers barely let me leave the house without an armed escort. The idea of actually letting me work, letting me use my brain for something more challenging than planning dinner parties? That was never on the table.”
“What about your degree? Art history, right? You could have worked in a museum, a gallery, academia...”
“Could have, should have, would have if things were different.” She shrugged, but he could see the frustration she was trying to hide. “But things aren’t different. I’m a Volkov, which means I’m either an asset to be protected or a bargaining chip to be traded. There’s no middle ground for independent careers or personal fulfillment.”
The bitterness in her voice was raw and honest, and it made something twist uncomfortably in his chest. He’d never really considered what her life had been like over the past four years, how the family that had torn them apart had also been slowly suffocating her dreams and ambitions.
“What if things were different now?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
He gestured around his office, at the paperwork she’d been examining, at the computers and phones and all the tools of legitimate business operations.
“What if you had the opportunity to use that sharp mind of yours for something more than planning dinner parties? What if you could actually work, contribute, be more than just a protected asset?”
She stared at him like he’d suggested they take up synchronized swimming. “Viktor, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about offering you a job.”
“A job. Here. Working for you.”
“Working with me,” he corrected. “You clearly have the analytical skills, you understand the business from both sides of the equation, and you’ve got insights into operations that I might miss because I’m too close to them.”
“You’re serious.”
“Dead serious. I need someone I can trust to review contracts, audit financial statements, and identify potential problems before they become actual problems. Someone smart enough to spot the kind of discrepancies you just caught, but discrete enough to handle sensitive information.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and he could see her mind working, considering the possibilities and the risks.
“What would I actually be doing?” she asked finally.
“Financial analysis, contract review, due diligence on new ventures. Nothing illegal, nothing that would put you in danger. Just using your brain to help me run a cleaner, more efficient operation.”
“And my brothers? My family? They’d never approve of me working, especially not for you.”
“Your family doesn’t get a vote. You’re a Nikolai now, remember? Your loyalty is to me, not to them.”
The words came out harsher than he’d intended, but they had the desired effect. He saw her spine straighten, saw the spark of defiance light up in her hazel eyes.
“You really think I could do it?” she asked. “I don’t have any real business experience outside of what I learned growing up. No MBA, no formal training...”
“You just identified two major red flags in financial documents that my trained accountants missed. You understand the industry, you know how to spot bullshit, and you’re not afraid to ask questions when things don’t make sense.” He leaned back against his desk, studying her face. “Plus, you’re bored out of your mind playing housewife, and I need someone I can trust to watch my back in the boardroom.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just pity? Poor little Anka, trapped in her golden cage, let’s throw her some busy work to make her feel useful?”
