“All taken care of with enough money for this life and the next.”
“Good. How’s Thatcher?”
Misha chuckles and grins for the first time since yesterday. “He’s milking the shit out of all of this. He’s got every old nurse in the place babying him. You’re going to have your hands full with that one. I’ll tell you that right now.”
The mention of Thatcher brings a stabbing pain in my chest that I can’t seem to fight. There’s so much I need to tell him, and I’m not sure he’ll stick around when he finds out.
“What about you? Have you been able to sort anything out yet?” Misha asks, bringing me back to the moment.
Rubbing my temples, I finally look up. “No, and I don’t think I’m going to anytime soon. This takeover was more than any of us expected, and it’s going to take months of effort from Ivan, our cousins, and me to get our outfit back on track. Can you imagine what my father would think of me now? Not only am I running the largest branch in the States, but I’m heading up a massive cleanup in the Motherland. I’m sure he’s rolling over in his grave at the thought of hisdaughtertaking on more than he ever did.”
Misha scratches his neck, then slides a folder to me. “That’s actually what I came in here for. You see, Ivan’s hacker guy has been working on gathering all the digital intel for him and when he came across these files, well, look for yourself.”
I never know what to expect with Misha, but I would have never imagined this. It’s page after page of conversations between Father and Zadorov going back and forth about my place as the leader of the Thunder Bay branch, spanningyears.I’m trying to make sense of it all, but the more I read, the more hazy everything becomes.
“What…what is this?”
“Read it—”
“I can’t!” I hiss as my eyes begin to water.
Misha smiles lazily, any ounce of teasing gone as he softens his voice. “He always wanted you to take his place. It was Zadorov fighting it all along. He started years ago, trying to get your father to agree to a marriage between you and Oleg, to no avail. After years of Igor turning him down, he pulled out the big guns. First with Teddy. I’m not sure how he found out about your brother, but even that didn’t shake your father.”
I flip through the papers and do my best to focus on the conversations about my brother. God, Father really basically told Zakhar to fuck right off.
“Tell the board I have a son. I couldn’t care less. My daughter has more balls than you and your pathetic son combined. If Mila wasn’t the best man for the job, I wouldn’t be leaving her my legacy.”
“God, did he even know about Teddy before then?” I ask under my breath.
“Unclear, but it didn’t sway his decision either way. It wasn’t until, well. Flip to the back.”
I do as he asks, only to find the same pictures Ivan and I received as blackmail last week.
“He knew?”I whisper.
“He knew…”
Silence fills the room as I read through the final messages in the folio, and Zadorov’s final threat.
“She marries Oleg, or these get sent to every member of the Taranov board.”
I never told Father about what happened to me in Russia. He seemed to respect and cherish me, but I assumed that admiration would only go so far.
“Under no circumstances will Mila ever marry your son. Teddy will be my heir. And with Mila no longer in charge, nobody will give a damn about those pictures. All you will do if you ever release them is bring a war upon our outfits, one you will undoubtedly lose. Thanks to my daughter’s genius, our branch has and will continue to outperform yours in every respect. The only reason you aren’t already dead is because it would set off a war between our families and cause the death of too many Russian men. But if you ever threaten the ones I love again, I will not be so generous. Do I make myself clear?”
“The ones heloves?”
“I would say he loved you very much, moya tsaritsa.”
Tears are falling freely down my face at this point, and Misha can’t help his tears, either. I allow myself a moment to let things sink in, tofeel…Until a familiar knock sounds from outside the office.
“Come in, Thatcher,” I call out as I straighten up in my chair and wipe my eyes.
My sunshine boy strolls in, brightening the entire room with his smile, stopping only when he sees the redness from Misha’s and my tears. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Are you alright?”
Misha stands and pats Thatcher on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, still somehow brightening the room, even with concern on his face.
