“Not well enough, apparently.” I take a sip of my whiskey. “I was jealous. That’s why I acted the way I did in the break room.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Jealous?”
“Yes. I saw you laughing with Peterson, and something… snapped. It was irrational and inappropriate, and I’m not proud of it.”
She’s quiet for a moment, processing this admission. “Why would you be jealous? Our marriage isn’t real.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings about it.” I set down my glass. “Watching you smile at another man, laugh at his jokes… It bothered me more than I expected.”
“Derek is just a colleague.”
“I know that now. I knew it then, too, on some level. But logic doesn’t always win against instinct.”
The waiter arrives to take our orders. Kirsten chooses the linguine with clams while I go for the veal piccata. Once he leaves, she picks up her wine glass and studies me over the rim.
“This is the most honest you’ve been with me since we met.”
“I’m trying to do better.”
“Why now?”
Because I can’t stand the way you’ve been looking at me. Your disappointment cuts deeper than any business failure, and I want you to see me as more than the man who trapped you.
I don’t say any of that. Instead, I offer a partial truth.
“Because I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” She takes a sip of wine. “I’m angry at you. I’m frustrated with the situation. But I don’t hate you.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“It’s a start.”
Our food arrives, and we eat in companionable silence for a few minutes. The linguine looks excellent, and my veal is perfectly cooked. Slowly, the atmosphere between us begins to thaw.
“Can I ask you something?” she ventures.
“Anything.”
“The Bratva stuff. Your family’s… business.” She chooses her words with obvious care. “What exactly do you do?”
I set down my fork. This is delicate territory. Too much information could frighten her, while too little might seem evasive.
“My branch handles the legitimate operations,” I begin. “Real estate, investments, corporate acquisitions. Everything above board and fully legal.”
“But that’s not all your family does.”
“No. It’s not.” I meet her eyes. “My cousins handle the other side. Weapons, mostly. Some protection services. Nothing that would directly touch you or your work.”
“Weapons.” She repeats the word like she’s testing its weight. “Like… arms dealing?”
“Among other things.”
“And the company I worked for? The one you acquired?”
“The previous ownership had ties to a rival organization. They were using it to launder money and gather intelligence. I removed them.”
“By buying the company.”
