Page 92 of The Pakhan’s Debt by Leona White

Maksim’s guards search him at the door. Sergei allows it with a lopsided smile. “You have to be thorough.” His eyes come to me and stay there.

Hell no.

My fingers tighten around the tea glass, and my spine locks before I can stop it. For half a second, I’m back in a family hallway, fixing my face before he can read it. I set the tea down before it rattles.

The guard finds no weapon and steps aside. Sergei walks in slowly, nodding once to the waiter and then to the barista.

“Brunch with my daughter,” he says lightly.

The barista almost smiles. My skin burns.

Sergei takes the chair across from me. “Elena.”

“Father.”

His smile softens, expensive work with poor results. “You look well.”

“I look guarded,” I say, glancing toward the men by the door.

“You always were,” he says, then settles his gloves beside his plate.

I circle the rim of the glass with one finger. “You asked to explain.”

“I asked to speak,” he says.

“Those are different?”

“With you,” he says, looking at me over the table, “apparently.”

The waiter brings him fresh tea. Sergei orders nothing, then changes his mind and asks for blini with sour cream. He always did enjoy making the staff return twice.

He looks at my plate. “You’re not eating.”

“Pregnancy made me less fond of men controlling my appetite.”

Something flits across his face. Then his face settles again, smooth and still.

“You’re angry,” Sergei says, lifting his tea.

“I’m busy,” I say.

“With Volkov.”

“With your mess.”

He sets the glass down and folds his hands on the table. Fine hands. No scars. No ink. Every cost hidden somewhere else. “I built a structure that could survive men like him.”

“Maksim is still sitting behind you,” I say and let my eyes pass over his shoulder.

“I noticed.”

“Good. I’d hate for you to miss the obvious.”

His thumb brushes once over his tie. “You think this is clever.”

“No,” I say, reaching for the toast. “I think clever is how you trained me to stay useful.”

The blini arrive. He thanks the waiter, spreads sour cream carefully, and cuts one neat piece before speaking again.