My gaze flicks over to Amalie and I wonder if I made a huge mistake by accusing her. She doesn’t look at me.
I don’t stop her when she walks away. As she disappears down the hall, I realize that whatever this fragile thing is that she and I are building just took a direct hit.
CHAPTER 28
ROMAN
Morning comes roughly.
I awaken to two things: gray light bleeding in through the tall windows of my bedroom, and a mild ache at my temples from one too many whiskeys last night. I roll over, draping my arm over the other side of the bed as if Amalie might be there.
She’s not, of course.
I let out a groan as I stretch and plant my feet on the floor, then press the button to open the blinds. A horrifying thought crosses my mind—I half expect to see CPS agents emerging from the tree line. Rage boils in me as I think about yesterday, those goddamn agents going through my house, trying to find some pretext to take my son from me.
I stand and close my eyes, tamping down my anger. The agents were just doing their jobs. The real target is the person who pointed them in my direction.
I shower, brush my teeth, and throw back a couple of aspirin with a bit of water in order to quell the headache. Then I dress and begin the day.
The same gray light that filled my bedroom is present throughout the mansion. Another cold late-winter’s day. Something about it manages to turn the house into something more like a fortress rather than a home where a family lives.
The staff moves about quietly. Guards are at their posts. No sign of Amalie or Sasha—they’re most likely having breakfast. A big part of me wants to see her more than anything. But I resist the urge. After what happened yesterday, after our argument, I know it’s not the wise move.
I make my way to the study. Andrei is there, seated in one of the chairs near the fireplace, documents in hand. He glances over his shoulder as I enter.
“Your bank called twice,” he says. “And Mr. Blair.”
My jaw tightens. No doubt with bad news. I find Blair’s number in my phone. I put the call on speaker, then set the phone on a nearby table.
“Mr. Barinov,” he greets. “Good morning.”
“Mr. Blair,” I reply. “Let’s not waste time.”
“Indeed. I’ll be direct. There’s been a development.”
“What sort of development?”
A beat of silence. “The visit to your home by CPS last night was quick news. As such, our compliance team has triggered a pause on the IPO timetable until your home and family situation are verified.”
For a long moment, I stare at the wall. The exact thing I didn’t want to happen has happened. They’re pausing the deal, which means there’s a damn good chance it may not go through.
My voice is even. “CPS found nothing.”
“Right, I understand,” Blair replies. “But optics matter. Risk matters. The perception of instability?—”
“Perception,” I repeat, my tone sharp.
“I’m sure you know as well as anyone that perception matters. Enormous amounts of money are at play here, and not a single investor involved in this deal is going to want to put a stake in a risky deal.”
I say nothing, letting his words process.
“Mr. Barinov?”
“Tell me what they need.”
“Total assurance,” he says. “We’ll need written assurance and documentation. And a third-party investment would go a long way.”
Anger and frustration boil up.
