"I want a big ass Dutch apple pie," I say to Matvey, who's shadowing us.
He raises a polite brow. "Did you mean, at this very minute, Mrs. Morozova?"
"Yes, please, the Pastry Palace down the street delivers."
There's a very slight quirk of his lips, but he remains composed.
So glad I could entertain you, pal.
"Will there be anything else?"
"See if they have any of those chocolate eclairs," Priya chimes in.
"Yeah, I love those," I agree.
"I'll send someone down right now," Matvey nods, stepping out of the living room as we make ourselves comfortable.
A few hours later, we're sprawled on the couch, stomachs swollen from our pastry binge with pieces of piecrust covering us both. There's a subtle change in the penthouse, movement that tells me Dmitri must be on his way. The arrival of the Bratva Lord is always a big deal.
"I'd better go," Priya sighs.
"I'm only agreeing because I'm pretty sure you're going to try to stab him," I whisper, hugging her tight. "And that'smyjob."
"There's the viperous friend I know and love." She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves, carrying her backpack and the other half of the pie in its pink box, glaring at Rurik as if daring him to take it away from her.
Waving goodbye as the elevator doors close, I head back into the guest room, locking the door. A few minutes later, there's low voices and I know Dmitri's home. I hear the rumble of Rurik'svoice, no doubt updating him on Priya's visit and our pastry massacre. Footsteps echo down the hall. They pause outside the room for a moment. Do I want him to knock on the door? Do I want him to slam it open and take me in his arms and apologize for telling me that I'm nothing to him? Do I want to apologize for being disgusted and horrified when I knew all along that this was his life?
As I wrestle with my inner demons, the steps continue down the hall to the master bedroom and the door shuts with heartbreaking finality.
Chapter Thirty-Six
In which Dmitri burns it all down.
Dmitri…
It's been a week since I left the penthouse.
The expression on Ava's face still guts me. How the life drained from her eyes as I cut her to pieces with my words. Then, the fury kicks in. Everything I've done to keep her safe, rescuing her from captivity. The lives - my own people - that I've risked for her protection. The ring I put on her finger. And yet, she has the gall to be filled with moral outrage and indignation when I'm forced to take action.
I can't forget the fear and disgust on her face when she looked at me. My words were harsh, but they are true. I thought she had backbone, that she was strong enough for this life.
Maybe I was wrong.
Arriving at Morozov International, I see that the light is on in Yevgeny’s office, the only one on the darkened floor. I knew he had been working tirelessly since he came here, eager to prove himself. Every time I visit, he's paler and more exhausted-looking, to the point where I forced him to take a weekend off with orders to visit the company's beach house in East Hampton.
"Sir, thank you for coming so late." He stands up from his desk with a little bob of his head.
"Thank you for your hard work," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. "What do you have for me?"
"You might wish to sit," he says solemnly.
There is a bone deep weariness in me, knowing that after wave after wave of bad news, another one is about to come crashing down.
His expression is at once apologetic and terrified, as if he's not sure how I'm going to respond to his discovery. "I told you I found the aberrations in the construction budget you give me, sorry, I am learning the words still, yougaveme," he says. "The cost projections did not match the profit margins. I found the pattern of how the money is moved out of Morozov accounts. Not just the account you assign me. Six construction projects and two of your legitimate warehouse holdings are impacted."
"Eight different properties?" I ask incredulously.
"Da,Sir. I found the discrepancies. It is well over thirty million. Going back over a period of five years."
