“When I got to your lawyer’s office, I was so angry that I wanted to sell and have the papers presented. As in, I was going to just start a bidding war, and he could join in if he wanted, but…” She sighs. “Your lawyer calmed me.”
“Calmed you by serving the papers to Demyan?” I put the drink down, holding it between my thighs.
“They weren’t served, just presented. My intent is to show him I’m serious about the shelter. The papers were an offer where he or Erin can buy the shares.”
“Malyshka,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I don’t really want to sell, just like I know Demyan doesn’t want to buy them. At least, he didn’t want to. Dad’s failsafe is a good one.” She sighs again, and the soft sound moves like a warm breeze through me, even though she isn’t in the room.
I lean back on the sofa, pick up the drink, and take another sip. “It might backfire.”
“Then it’s on him,” she says. “I just want him to see he’s being unreasonable. I want him to treat me like an adult. And I want him to reconsider allowing me access to my trust. It’s the better option, and we know it. All of us, him included.”
“Fuck,malyshka. Demyan’s a stubborn bastard.”
“He forgets I’m just as stubborn,” she says softly.
I chuckle. “If anyone can change his mind, it’s you.”
After we hang up, I wonder if that’s true.
Because honestly, I’m not so sure at all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
ALINA
“Albert, why is this such a mess?”
He doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure he cares, since his attention is once more on the bag of food Svetlana sent with us.
Because he’s a good dog, he just watches it and doesn’t try to get into it.
I can see Magda taking high offense at the food and then doubling down and sending back a bigger bag of better food.
“Shit, Albert…” I ruffle his fur. “Are you starting a war? Is your goal to be eating filet mignon with a caviar chaser?”
His eyes roll to me as if to tell me not to be silly, that he prefers fresh fish to caviar.
I smile and keep pretending for the moment that this mess is only a battle of the housekeepers.
Of course it isn’t, and of course my phone starts to vibrate to remind me of that.
I turn on my Airbuds as I answer.
“What’s up?” I ask Demyan as cheerfully as possible.
He growls. It’s a low, menacing sound that makes my stomach flip and surge.
“You know damned well what’s up.”
“No—”
“What the fuck kind of game are you playing?”
We turn into the final stretch that’ll lead us to the mansion, a place I’m definitely not looking forward to returning to.
“Game?”
