Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Oleg Federov has looked better. He’s wearing a new Rolex, shiny and sparkling and expensive as hell, plus a fancy gold chain. The Bratva’s been good to him lately. But there are bags under his eyes and his gut’s heavier than it’s ever been, and I haven’t seen my father walk more than ten steps without getting winded in a while now.
His town car’s double parked in the street and his guards lurk nearby. A couple of young Russian boys that would do anything for him since he pays them a ludicrous amount of money.
“I have a task for you two,” he says without preamble like we’re his employees. And in some ways, we are. He’s the head of the family. But that isn’t how things are supposed to work.
“Haven’t seen you around here in a while,” I say and toss him my best smirk.
He frowns back. My father’s always been immune to my charms. “I have bigger jobs now. You know that.”
“How is Canada these days? Very cold, I hear.”
Alex elbows me. “What can we do for you, Oleg?”
My father glares at me but turns to his son-in-law, his least favorite person in the world, his former favorite turned backstabbing shiteater ever since he got Natalya pregnant and stole her away from the man Oleg really wanted her to marry.
“Liquidate some of the stock. I need fifty grand in cash by tomorrow morning. No fucking banks.”
Alex’s eyebrows raise. “That’s not much time.”
“Make it happen. I don’t care what kind of loss you have to take. Get me the money by tomorrow.”
“Fed can’t just eat that kind of loss,” I say before Alex can trip over himself to comply. “We just finished rebuilding the place after the fire.”
“Do you think I give a shit? I need the money. Make it happen. And seriously, no fucking banks.”
“You have no clue what kind of financial state this business is in right now, do you?” I ask, letting some of my control slip. This isn’t the time to confront him and Alex is shooting me warning stares, but I ignore him. “When was the last time you bothered checking the books?”
My father shifts toward me. He squares his shoulders and I know that look. He’s pissed and struggling to contain it.
“What I do with my businesses is my decision. I rebuilt Fed from my funds, and if I want to burn it down again, I fucking will. I need fifty thousand dollars in twenties. Make it happen.”
He walks away, gets in the car, and slams the door behind him. His two guards scramble over each other to get in and drive off.
Alex watches them go and doesn’t say anything.
“You know that’s going to hurt. What the fuck are we even going to sell on that short of notice?”
“It’s not time,” he says softly.
“This is why we’re doing this. He’s completely lost it.”
“He’s busy with the Canada job, which you will be too once you take control. You know that, right?”
“I’ll work on Canada and you’ll manage Fed. I won’t ask you to torch everything.”
He grunts in reply. “I know a few people that might be willing to do some quick buys, but it’ll hurt.”
“Sell the fakes first.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure. Sell the fakes. And make sure people know they’re coming directly from Oleg.”
Alex gives me a look before sighing and going inside. “Devious,” he says.
“I’d prefer something more direct, but this’ll work for now.”
Chapter 22
Carmie
Idon’t even know why I go back down there, but I find myself in the basement again.
I warm up on the treadmill and when I have a nice sheen of sweat, I start doing reaction drills. I practice lunges while catching a tennis ball over and over again until I manage to dredge some semblance of form out of my tired muscles.
Carmie: I’m so stupidly out of shape it’s GROSS.
Gia: Could be worse! You could be like me! A gelatinous blob.
Sofie: says the girl that looks absolutely stunning right now.
Sofie: speaking of, when are we getting together?
Frannie: Better be soon!!! I’ve been so bored!!!
Carmie: Uh-oh, bored Frannie is dangerous Frannie.
Gia: Please don’t start a fire, Franster.
Frannie: NO PROMISES.
Sofie: How’s the husband, Carms? You two working on Child Number One yet?
I grimace at my phone and drag a towel across my forehead. They still don’t know about the pregnancy—and I’m not sure when I’ll tell them. Eventually, it’ll be impossible to hide, but for now, I’m trying to act like it doesn’t exist.
Carmie: We did… have a thing.
Gia: YES?
Sofie: DETAILS?
Frannie: You two made love, didn’t you?
Carmie: I wouldn’t call what we did…. Making love……
Frannie: gross!
Gia: gross! But also hot?
Sofie: definitely hot. Still requesting details.
I definitely don’t give them details. I mean, what are they going to think? My husband showed up in my room in the middle of the night wearing a fencer’s mask and got me off twice without ever taking it off? I mean, that’s crazy. They’re going to think I’m some kind of sex deviant.