Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Then is this one of those days when you might have the patience to speak with Elena?” he asks as we climb the stairs to leave this level of the basement cells.
A meeting is next on my agenda.
Then another.
After that, renegotiations about a drug deal.
Then checking in on a few matters with our allies.
Patience is low in stock for me on any given day. But my free time—even to deal with my ex—is absolutely out.
“She wants to speak with you about Roman.”
I step out into the alley, heading toward the car idling for me in the wintry darkness. Loathing my useless son and being expected to speak to his mother leaves me cold as ice. Like always.
Once I’m in the backseat, I pull out my phone and scroll for her number. I have all her calls routed to Viktor’s phone so he can gatekeep nuisances. In the spirit of getting this over with, I dial her and wait for that whiny voice.
“Hey, baby,” she purrs.
“What do you want?” I don’t care if she thinks I’m terse. I really don’t give a damn if she assumes I’m annoyed, either. I can’t stand her and I’ll never miss an opportunity to remind her of that fact.
“I want you to go easy on our boy.”
She never misses a chance to remind me that we share a son.
I close my eyes for patience.
None comes.
“He’s not a boy.” He’s twenty-six, yet, he doesn’t know how to act like a real man.
Rubbing my forehead, I already regret calling her.
“But he’s not you. He’s not a cold workaholic who doesn’t know how to let loose and have fun sometimes. Roman’s a wonderful, free-spirited soul who doesn’t deserve to have to pay for the hotel damages from his party last night. He shouldn’t have to—”
“Ever accept responsibility for fucking anything?” I growl, cutting her off.
This argument is the same broken record it always is with her. She protests that Roman is a perfect son who can do no wrong. And I can turn blue in the face when I point out how he does nothing but assume the world revolves around him all because he happens to be the Sokolov heir.
“He’s our only son, Anton,” she says smoothly, a practiced line.
I grit my teeth at her use of our. Yes, Roman is the child from my short and much-scorned marriage to Elena. But I detest any hint that I share anything with her.
“He’s our only son, and he’s our future.”
I shake my head, wishing for anything but that. For the blessing of another woman who’d make me want to be a better man, not merely get through day after day of managing this empire. For the chance to count on another heir who’d make me proud and contribute instead of treating me like a bank account.
“As a matter of fact, we should meet up, Anton. To discuss Roman’s future. I’ve been hoping to catch up with you, and—”
I cut her off once more. Ending the call abruptly is the only way to spare myself a full-on migraine.
I set the phone in my lap and turn to watch the scenery of the nightscape blur by out the window.
Instead of the irritating obligation of putting up with her or Roman, I try to look forward to my next business deal, because at this rate, burying myself in work is all I can do to stay sane anymore.
3
LILIANA
Jenni didn’t hesitate to let me crash at her apartment. She let me in and listened to me rant, whine, lecture, and gripe about the shock of catching my boyfriend cheating on me with my best friend. She’d never had a high opinion of Roman to begin with, always saying he was too cocky and seemed to think the world revolved around him.
Good riddance is her mantra for this post-breakup phase I’m going through. And she’s a solid believer in getting what’s coming to you where he’s concerned. Over the last week, she came with me to grab more of my things from the apartment, often serving as backup to shout at Roman that this is what he gets for screwing around, with Maeve or anyone else.
“I’m only going to grab the last of the things I left behind,” I tell her as I speed out of the city. Leaving the gray icy sludge that lines the curbs for the open country roads is a healthy change of scenery. And if the view doesn’t soothe me, the time to drive alone might.
“Okay. Just be careful on the drive,” she says via speaker. “It’s supposed to snow.”
“I know. I’m just going out there and back,” I tell her before we disconnect the call.
My goal is to stop at the Sokolov vacation home to grab the notebook I forgot to take when Roman and I stayed for that short getaway. In hindsight, knowing he’d already been taking Maeve to family outings, I’m more convinced than ever that he avoided introducing me to anyone in his family and stashed me way out here to keep me from pushing the matter.