Page 80 of The Pakhan’s Debt by Leona White

Ibrace my hand on the table because my body needs the support, and I feel his eyes on me before I look up. I know how I must look, hair coming loose from the knot I made, color still sitting high in my cheeks, my body slower than it was yesterday and stronger in ways I don’t fully trust yet.

I lift my chin anyway.

He watches me like he wants to cross the room and put his hands on me. For a second, I feel the pull of it, and I stay where I am, even though I could move away. I keep my hand on the table a second longer. If I move too fast, my shoulder will pull, and he’ll see it. I don’t want him stepping in before I’m ready.

I hold his gaze, straighten slowly, and make my hand leave the wood. There’s work waiting, and I’m not giving anyone a reason to stop.

Mrs. Wentworth sends the tray in without asking. Tea, strong and hot, and a plate set with buttered black bread, small pastries filled with meat and cabbage, and thin slices of honey cake that smell rich enough to pull my attention whether I want it or not.

“Eat,” she says from the doorway.

I pick up the cup, take a sip, then reach for the bread. Maksim watches me for a second, then takes a piece himself, and we sit back by inches.

The door opens again. Leonid comes in carrying a stack of files, full originals tied and clipped. He sets them down in front of me.

“All of them,” he says. “Originals.”

Maksim glances at the tray.

“Eat something,” he says.

Leonid looks offended by the idea of appetite, then takes a cabbage roll anyway. “Only because this will take hours.”

I pick up the top file with one hand and a cabbage roll with the other, and Leonid’s mouth tightens as if I’ve insulted the entire legal profession.

“Careful with grease,” he says.

“Careful with attitude,” I answer and turn the first page.

He sits across from me, gives one tight nod, and adjusts his glasses. “Look at this clause,” he says.

He pulls one page from the stack and slides it toward me with two fingers. “You missed this.”

My face gets hot at once. “I didn’t miss it.”

“You did,” he says, tapping the registrar stamp. “The fallback entity is marked dormant, but the approval chain still answers to a live registrar.”

Maksim picks up the page. “Meaning?”

Leonid looks at me, waiting. I see it, and I hate that I see it. I lean back and force myself to breathe. “If my father pushes the right event through the right office, this thing wakes up and starts asking who controls what after me.”

Maksim’s eyes move from my stomach to my face.

“There,” I say, tapping the page harder than I need to. “It’s right there.”

His gaze holds mine. “What?”

“You don’t look at me first anymore,” I say, and my voice thins before I can stop it. “You look for what my father can use.”

Leonid closes the file in front of him and stands. “I’ll pull the next set,” he says, then leaves without waiting for either of us to answer.

Maksim stays at the end of the table. “Say it.”

“I just did,” I say, thrown by the force in his face.

“No. Say what you want to accuse me of, Elena. It’ll save time.” His eyes harden.

I stand because sitting while angry makes me feel managed. “You’re using the baby as permission.”