Chapter Three
“Better luck next time, old woman.” Alexi fanned himself with his cards as he considered his next move, the hospital room a sauna-like seventy-eight degrees—far better suited for a towel and nothing else than the suit he’d been wearing since the memorial service a few hours before.
“Why the stalling? You afraid?” Lena’s taunt was heavy on the V sound, her Russian accent so thick and full of malicious pleasure she sounded straight out of an eighties’ Cold War movie starring Dolph Lundgren. But in her case, it wasn’t fake. Just the product of seventy-five years of living in the motherland. He’d only convinced her five years ago to join him in the States. She’d been making up for years of Siberian winters since.
“I’m strategizing.” He’d made the mistake of teaching her American card games a few years ago, and now he couldn’t get her to stop yelling—
“Pizdobol.” Chortling the Russian equivalent of “bullshitter,” she pushed up on her elbows, her bearing aristocratic and proud, even as her neat, gray wig tilted precariously and the sheets crackled beneath her. The faint smell of antiseptic and garlic suddenly strong in the air. “I’ve got four sixes so we’re done here. I win again.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “Pay up, boy. Or interest kicks in.”
That was one of the things he adored about her. She’d never given him anything but straight talk his whole life—and she had as healthy a respect for business as he.
She’d had to develop it. In the span of her life, she’d gone from sitting on a gold commode once owned by Catherine the Great to scrubbing other people’s toilets.
He slid five one hundred–dollar bills into her palm. “Someday, somehow, I’m going to figure out how you cheat, old woman.”
“Please, I take my secrets to the grave.” Settling back into her bed, she crossed her arms over her frail chest and looked him up and down. “Oh, nyet. One joke about the grave and you scowl worse than Putin. We all die.”
“But not today.” And not tomorrow. He was going to make damn sure of that. No matter what it took.
Psh. She waved her hand in front of his face. “You seem distracted. I almost feel bad taking your money. Almost.” She shot him a wicked smile.
The same mischievous tilt of the lips he’d seen many times before on another face. A similar face, with similar lines and coloring.
As always, the good memories came fast and hard.
The painful ones even harder.
He shoved them all aside.
“Nope. All’s good.” The doc had said to give Lena something to live for—and that’s exactly what he’d done. “I’ve got a presentation before the Winslow board scheduled for three days from now. I plan to blow them away.” He’d kept her apprised every step of the way: the good, the bad, the ugly.
Well, okay, maybe not his urge to fuck his new rival on her late husband’s desk. But that wasn’t relevant anyway. Especially since it absolutely, without a doubt, would not be interfering with his plans.
“Hmph.” His card shark expert shifted in her bed. “That look on your face says there’s more. I’ll ask that nice boy, Morales, what the real story is. He always tells me the truth.” She fluffed her wig. “Where is he anyway?”
“Around somewhere. Doing something brave.” That “nice boy Morales” and his new, shiny black eye were hiding down the hall, the coward. But Lena could get pretty handsy for an old lady and, for some reason, she had a thing for his cranky security guard. “I know he’s planning a visit soon.”
Both Morales and his CFO, Thomas Eaton, stopped by regularly.
They’d known Lena for ages and become as invested in getting her justice as he. But after all the shit they’d given him on the way to the hospital about Lily Bennett and his failed “chat,” Alexi wasn’t feeling particularly kind toward his friends.
Which was why he said, “I’m pretty sure they’re working on that Russian folk song you said you liked. You’ll have to ask them to perform it when they come.”
“Excellent.” She clapped her hands. “I’ll invite the nurses, too.”
“Great idea. Wish I’d thought of it.”
She spoke over his evil chuckle. “What’s the widow like?”
His smile disappeared fast. “She’s fine.” In every sense.
“Is she as disgusting as him?”
“No, not disgusting. She’s, ah, formidable. Smarter than she looks. And pretty damn fierce.”
“Is that respect I hear?” Lena’s voice was sharp with the bitterness that anything related to Russell Winslow always generated.
Respect? Admire? Want to fuck her brains out? He started to shift in his seat—then realized what he was doing. Classic giveaway. He went still. “She’s not like him. That’s for sure.”
Lena was probably one of the few who hated Russell Winslow more than he.
“Morales says she’s young.”
Hell, his head of security barely grunted more than five sentences a day, and yet he became a fountain of information in Lena’s presence.
“Yup,” he agreed. “Very young to run a once-billion-dollar company.”
“Do you…” Lena picked at her blanket, “do you think Russell lied to her, too?”
“Could definitely be.” Anger at the man he’d hated for so long surged anew.
Lena Orlov had been a beautiful, wealthy young girl who’d recently lost her parents when Russell not only seduced her, but convinced her to sign over the family business.
Alexi didn’t know what Lily Bennett had to offer Russell in the way of real estate, but she had plenty of other incredible assets. The similarities between her and Lena’s situation were hard to miss.
Though there was one critical difference.
Russell had actually married Lily Bennett.
He’d told Lena he intended to marry her, then taken her real estate properties, her clients, her brand, her profits, and never looked back. He’d left her unmarried, pregnant, and poor, and never once acknowledged their daughter, Anastasia. A cruelty that had left scars on both women and a hole inside the daughter that no one, not even Alexi, had been able to fill.
“It’s easier to think of her as money-grubbing and selfish. Like him.” Lena’s sigh was long and loud.
Alexi couldn’t have agreed more.
“The truth is, if she was with him,” Lena worried at a loose thread in her blanket, “she can’t be such an innocent. And she definitely doesn’t deserve that company. It’s mine. Mine and my family’s. The only thing I have left. I—” A cough wracked her, cutting off the rest of her words.
“Lena?” He was out of his chair and by her side in the next instant. His arm wrapped around her back as she flopped forward.
Fucking cancer.
He reached for the call button.
Her hand stayed his. “Don’t bother.” Her words were a painful wheeze. “It will pass.”
“I pay a hell of a lot of money to ensure it’s never a bother.”
Their eyes locked. “You can’t control everything.”
“I can try.” He slammed the call button.
But less than two seconds later, her cough subsided. Just as she’d predicted.
He leaned her gently back into the mattress and blew out a slow breath.
She’d never been a big woman, but she was skin and bones now and no amount of money, no amount of fancy chefs and gourmet food, no amount of shouting or threats, would change a damn thing.
He knew it. She knew it. But she let him pretend. Just like before when she’d let him rant and rave and boss everyone around when it had been Anastasia lying in that hospital bed, her fingernails blue, her eyes vacant.
All his shouting hadn’t made a damn bit of difference then, either.
“Don’t let him terrorize you, Meg.” With a regal nod, Lena greeted the nurse who charged through the door, a young, rosy-cheeked brunette Alexi had had Morales vet before hiring. Tim, the orderly, shuffled in right behind. The two were always together, like Dorothy and the Tin Man.
“My Alexi is ridiculously handsome when he scowls—and he knows it,” Lena continued. “I’m certain it’s why he keeps doing it no matter what nice thing anybody does. Just hand me the cup of water and tuck in my blankets and he’ll settle down. He always does.”
See? Straight talk. No bullshit. And references to his good looks. How could he not adore this woman?
“No. I don’t need those.” Lena waved off the extra pain meds Tim held in his hand.
Alexi would have argued, but he understood. After Anastasia, neither of them were all that comfortable with any kinds of drugs. Even the kind that professed to help you. They’d seen the cost of going down that road up close, ugly, and personal.
“O-okay. Just let us know if you change your mind.” Meg was blushing, her fingers shaking as she shot him nervous glances from beneath lowered lids and tried to do her job. Tim stood silent as ever. Luckily, Lena’s young caretakers tucked blankets well. They also checked Lena’s med lines twice before hurrying out the door. This far, they’d lasted a hell of a lot longer than any of the others.
Done hovering, he settled back into his chair and scratched at the growing bristle on his jaw. “Better?”
“Honestly, no. Cancer is uncomfortable.”
Really? He loved her dry humor, but this particular topic? Not so much. Still, he understood. You handled it however you handled it—and Lena was an inspiration. One who hated fawning, which was why he forced his lips upward into the semblance of a cocky smile. “Well, cancer may be uncomfortable, but news flash, so are these hospital chairs. We all suffer in our own way.”
“Hey, boss man.” Lena was still chuckling as his CFO poked his head into the room, his Cambridge accent even more clipped than usual. “You got a sec?”
Unfolding from his chair, Alexi shot Lena a hard look. “No coughing or cheating while I’m gone.”
She waved him away. “Keep dreaming.”
Eaton wasted no time once the door shut, his gaze already refocused on the phone glued to his palm, his fingers busy swiping and pressing as he scanned the streaming data, mumbling to himself, his mop of brown hair in his eyes as always. Same haircut he’d had during their university days. Probably same suit, too. The man hated to spend money. “What a day. First, your epic fail with that inexperienced piece of eye candy and now—”
“Don’t call her that.”
“Excuse me?” His CFO’s head snapped up.
“Her name is Lily Bennett. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Ooookay.” The man looked confused. Probably because he was simply repeating the same words he’d heard earlier this morning.
Alexi tugged at his collar. For some reason, it was suddenly damn hot in the hallway. “You were saying?”
“I honestly can’t remember what I was saying.”
The heat at the back of Alexi’s neck blazed hotter. “You were about to give me some news.”
Eaton stared hard. “Right.”
They’d been friends and colleagues for a long time.
“So do it.”
His CFO jumped, fumbling his phone. “Right. Two pieces of news. First, the bank called. There’ll be a delay on their approval for the Taftin buyout. Nothing devastating to us profit-wise, but a definite inconvenience.”
“What happened?”
“Probably a glitch.” If it wasn’t financial or eating-related, Eaton’s interest was nil. “A few small details, including your birth date, somehow got changed in the electronic paperwork. Luckily they caught it, but it will take a few days to get sorted out. Hence the delay.”
Alexi stood straighter. “What was the date changed to?”
“How the heck should I know?”
Alexi raised an eyebrow.
A staring match ensued.
But soon enough, Eaton—who always folded first—cursed. Staring down at his precious phone, he pressed a few buttons, mumbled a few obscenities that sounded way more pompous—and hurtful—in his English accent, and sighed. “Well, according to their records, it’s no wonder you’re damn cranky all the time. You’re over seventy thousand years old.”
Alexi rubbed a hand across his mouth to cover a reluctant smile. Seventy thousand years ago. When Neanderthals roamed the earth.
She really was a wildcat.
And how had she done that? Very clever.
“What’s the other news?”
This time there was no need for prodding. “Just heard from one of our spies on the Winslow board. You’ve been bumped from your speaking time. Any guess on who will be speaking at that hour instead?”
“Interesting.” Losing the fight, Alexi let out a little chuckle. “I guess Lily Bennett really took exception to our little chat.”
“Looks like it.” Eaton looked wary. And mystified. “I, ah, thought you’d be more pissed.”
“Oh, I’m pissed.”
There was a longer pause. “Then what do you want to do about it?”
Find Lily Bennett and spread her wide on the nearest flat surface until all that fire inside her burns me so good.
But since that wasn’t possible, hardball it was. “I’m game to play if she is.”
His CFO tugged at his tie, clearly off-kilter. Most of their adversaries would have rolled over and played dead by now. “Do you want me to call Pierson and get her bumped?”
“No.” Alexi thought for a minute. “Let her have that time. I’ve got a better idea.”
Two minutes later, Eaton was off to carry out instructions, a smug look on his face, and Alexi was refolding himself into one of the too-small, plastic hospital chairs.
Lena watched him closely, a considering look on her face. “Everything all right?”
“Just fine.”
“Yes.” She studied him, her lips tilting upward. “I can see that.” She nodded once, as if deciding something. “You look good. Energetic. Less,” she waved a thin, blue-veined hand in the air, “inclined to strangle the next person you see. I don’t think I’ve seen you this way since we lost Anastasia.”
He jerked, the sound of her name aloud still a kick to the gut. “I’m just happy we’re coming to the end of this and that property will be back in your hands soon.”
“So many wasted years.” Lena grabbed his hand, her small grip frail in his.
At one time, those hands had been strong enough to hold him up, to comfort him, and to bitch-slap him into manning up when he’d been stupid enough to believe he couldn’t go on without the woman he’d loved since he was thirteen.
Lena had lost her daughter, but she’d supported him just the same. For that, he would always be grateful. For that, he would be her strength, her hands, her instrument of vengeance.
“It’s going to be okay.” He wrapped his palm around hers, careful to be gentle despite the darkness surging within.
“I know, syn moya.” My son. She patted his hand, offering up that same wide-eyed, hopeful look her daughter used to give him. “You’ll do what you can. You always do.”
He just had to be sure this time it was enough.