“I don’t expect that to be an issue for many years.” Tottenham continues eating his beige food.
“Sign it.” My voice is granite and iron.
Tottenham looks up, ready for a fight, then stutters as he sees my face.
I don’t know why Lotte wants him to sign, but obviously she does. So he will. “Sign it or I’ll reverse our peace deal and bankrupt you completely by the time my child is born.”
A muscle twitches in Tottenham’s jaw, but when Lotte holds out a pen, he snatches it and scrawls his signature onto the page.
“Thank you.” Lotte smiles happily. “How is your food? Mine is lovely. I think next time I’ll try the oysters. Nik seems to enjoy them so much.”
I snort with laughter and Lotte ignores me, chattering on as her father gets visibly annoyed. Red in the face.
Something is up.
“Did you have anything of any actual importance to say?” he snaps eventually, his nose going a deep maroon colour. He blinks and his hand shakes as he takes a long slurp of his wine. Trying to focus on the half-empty glass, he scowls. “You sure this isn’t corked? There’s a lot of sediment.”
“It’s not corked,” Lotte replies, but her tone has changed completely. Gone is the light and frivolous girlishness.
Tottenham huffs.
“I brought you here because I wanted to talk about my mother and father.” Her voice is like I’ve never heard it. Low, hard, and angry in a totally different way to when she was trying to kill me. There’s an undertone of determined fury. Confidence.
“Bad business…” But Tottenham is slurring now.
I look at my wife.
“Are you okay?” she says more loudly and reaches over the table. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing,” he chokes. “I’m…”
Quick as a flash, she swaps their wine glasses over before taking his hand in hers. And hell, I knew my ptichka was a perfect little potential murderess, but I didn’t think she’d be so delightfully sly about it.
Tottenham clutches his chest, going red in the face. He’s breathing fast but shallow. A heart attack?
“Go to him,” I urge.
Our eyes meet and there’s no need for words. We both know what’s going on here. I’d have helped if she’d asked, or done it for her. But I almost like it more that she knows she can surprise me, and I won’t ask questions. I’ll help her clear up any mess. Clever girl though, the evidence will be simple to remove.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” I say to the waiter who has just entered. “Get some water.”
The waiter flees, happy not to deal with mafia murders, and I flick through my phone to find the number of the doctor I keep on retainer for Edmonton. He answers immediately. A few words and he’s on his way.
Lotte is on the other side of the table now, but still, she doesn’t touch Tottenham.
“I’ll save you, if you tell me the truth,” she says, soft but ferocious. “About what happened to my parents. Antonio and my mother.”
“Stupid bitch, just get an ambulance,” he chokes out. Breathing is difficult for him, and I guess I’m more of a bastard than I thought, because all I care for is Lotte.
“Help! Someone help!” Such an actress.
“The wine…” He gasps as it becomes more impossible for him to breathe.
Lotte’s eyebrows pinch together. “But I drank it too?”
David Tottenham slumps.
“No!” she screeches.
