“Papa. Not Mr. Maslak. That is old man you do not know. Me? I am Papa now. We are family.”
Oh, man, I’m going to cry.
And the tears slide down my cheeks unchecked.
“Shh.” To my shock, he pulls me into his arms and hugs me, murmuring soothing-sounding words in Russian and stroking my back. And I let him because it’s been so long since anyone held me, comforted me, made me feel safe. Other than Viktor, of course, but I can’t allow myself to believe that he really does have feelings for me.
“I’m sorry,” I say finally, pulling away and wiping my eyes. “It’s been a bad week.”
“Yes.” He nods solemnly. “But it will be okay. You will see. Viktor—he is stubborn, but there is much love. I have never seen my son look at woman the way he looks at you.”
I swallow.
I want to believe him but I know what he said just two nights ago. Why would he lie?
“Tonight, we must go to the game and support team. After, everything will be okay. You will see.” He smiles, pats my cheek, and then walks back to the parking lot.
I watch him drive away, and my heart squeezes painfully.
I don’t even have time to think about what he said when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number but the exchange is local and it doesn’t say “spam risk,” which is usually a tell that I shouldn’t answer.
“Hello?” I lift the phone to my ear warily.
“Ms. Grant? This is Monica Landry. We met under unfortunate circumstances at your home not that long ago.”
The hair on my arms stands up. “What can I do for you?” I ask brusquely.
“You have an offer on your home and land. It’s nearly double what it’s worth.” The number she gives me is staggering. The kind of money that would mean I would never have to work again. I wouldn’t even need Viktor’s money.
But that’s ridiculous.
Because I’m not selling. Not for any amount.
“Ms. Landry, I don’t know how else to say this,” I say with as much patience as I can muster up. “My home and the land are not for sale. Not for five million. Not for twenty million. Not for all the gold in Fort Knox. Please tell my father that.”
Then I disconnect.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Viktor
With twenty-three seconds on the clock, my heart kicks into high gear.
We’re up 3-2.
If I can keep the puck out of the net for twenty-three more seconds, we’re going to win the championship.
In our inaugural season.
It’s unheard of.
I can’t even allow myself to believe it’s real.
Fifteen seconds.
West shoots the puck down into their zone, but Ashton and Cash stay closer to me. It’s all about defense now.
Eight seconds.
