by Bella Rose
“I was almost seventeen. So it was legal.” Mikhail picked up a piece of discarded paper and wadded it up before flinging it at Toby. “But thanks for thinking the worst of me.”
“So what happened?”
“She and I became friends, I guess. I caught her crying in a stairwell a few weeks after that, and we started talking. We didn’t have much in common, but we found things that we could both relate to the same way any horny teenagers are apt to do.” Mikhail was staring out the window, wishing he could forget the next part. “Then she tried to help me by asking her father if I could get moved into a young interns program so I could learn the business and eventually work for Pierson Security itself instead of just in the maintenance department. Her father realized she had a girlish crush, and you can imagine the rest.”
“Wow.” Toby looked sick. “So you hold a grudge against him for not letting you date his daughter? That’s sort of unlike you.”
Mikhail laughed, feeling like an old man. “No. My vendetta against Piers-Cameron has nothing to do with his daughter. If he had told me to stay away from her, I would have. I could respect that. She deserved better. Then he could have gone back to his ivory tower and let me be. I was getting by, going to school, about to graduate, and even had a scholarship to a community college. Piers-Cameron told the building manager I’d been caught stealing. They called the cops. I was arrested. I lost my scholarship and my job and had no choice but to take work with my cousins.”
“So that’s how you wound up in the Russian mafia.” Toby sounded absolutely stunned. “Piers-Cameron is the reason you have blood on your hands.”
“And I’m going to make him pay for that,” Mikhail returned, feeling calm and confident and knowing his plan was about to succeed. “I will make him pay for what he did.”
Chapter Seven
“It’s about damn time you called me back,” Bella fumed. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve texted you?”
Courtney stirred her chai and let Bella get it all out. Her friend often needed to vent before she could have a rational conversation. For now, the downtown sidewalk café where they had been meeting since college days made a pleasant enough place to hang out. The weather was beautiful. There weren’t too many people around in the early afternoon after the lunch rush, and the tiny patch of shade beneath the cheerful yellow-and-red striped umbrella was a perfect place to relax.
“You have no idea how much I have to tell you!” Bella finally said. She had wound down, although Courtney would admit to missing at least 50 percent of the diatribe anyway. Now her friend was rational enough to have a two-sided conversation.
“What do you have to tell me?” Courtney asked obediently.
Bella’s eyes opened wide. “Mikhail Krachenko asked Toby to ask me about you!” Bella squealed in excitement. “Isn’t that amazing?”
“You do know who Mikhail Krachenko is, right?” Courtney cocked her head to one side, gazing at her friend. From the other woman’s reaction, Courtney had already decided that Bella was clueless. “Remember I told you about that boy who worked in my father’s building that I had a crush on when I was like fifteen years old?”
Bella slumped forward, putting her elbows on the table. “Oh my God! Yes! I remember that story. The poor boy died! It was so tragic. And you were just trying to help him because he’d always been so good to you!”
“Yeah.” Courtney still wasn’t sure how she felt about all of this. “Well, that boy was Mikhail Krachenko.”
“What?” Bella’s high-pitched sound of shock drew every eye within a ten-foot radius.
Courtney waited for her friend to calm down enough to be rational. “I don’t understand why, but my father made up the story about Mikhail dying.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” Bella fumed. “It broke your heart!”
“I don’t know.” Courtney shrugged. “But I would imagine that my father thought he was doing me a favor. Maybe he thought I needed his help getting past a boy that he considered unacceptable. You know what he’s like!”
Bella sat back in her chair and angrily stirred her iced coffee. “What an ass!”
“So now, Mikhail is apparently alive and very successful.” Courtney didn’t even know where she was going with this. “And I’m supposed to be engaged to that dickhead Creighton Kemper, who—by the way—I’m almost certain is screwing the wedding planner.”
“Oh ick! Elsa?” Bella made a face. “She tried that crap with Toby too. I think she screws all of the grooms. Honestly, she’s pretty low-class. I still can’t figure out why all of the most exclusive events in the city hire her.”
“Because she can plan an event,” Courtney pointed out, trying to be reasonable. “But someday she’s going to mess with the wrong girl.”
“Of course, it’s not like you care what Creighton does,” Bella pointed out.
Courtney felt a grim sort of determination. “No. But it would be really convenient if Creighton could get caught being naughty with Elsa so my father would get mad at him and call the whole thing off.”
* * *
“Hello, Gordon,” Mikhail said silkily. “Please come in and have a seat.”
The only word that Mikhail could come up with to describe Gordon Piers-Cameron was pouty. The man looked positively juvenile. Even his lower lip was pouched out. He flopped into a seat around the big conference table at Krachenko Security and glowered at Mikhail.
“What do you want?” Gordon snarled. “I got your message this morning. Or should I say that I got your threat? I won’t tolerate being bullied by the likes of you. I know you think the whole world caters to your kind, but legitimate businessmen like me don’t have to tolerate your sort of practices.”
Mikhail took big deep breaths. Sometimes he wondered if legitimate businessmen like Gordon Piers-Cameron were all oblivious, or if that was just something unique to the man sitting before Mikhail right now riding the self-righteousness train to ruin.
“I don’t know what you think you know about me and my business,” Mikhail began slowly. “But I am an absolutely legitimate player on the international board. My business grosses four times what yours ever did, even during its heyday. On my worst day I have better numbers and results than you ever have on your best day. So let’s just stop pretending you’re still somehow better than I am.”
“You come from nothing,” Gordon spat. The man actually managed to look down his nose at Mikhail.
“That would make my position in the American business arena more laudable actually. Boy from the wrong side of the tracks who was constantly put down by those who should have helped him”—Mikhail couldn’t resist throwing that in—“becomes a self-made billionaire. I believe I’ll get my own reality show and a book deal out of that headline.”
“Harrumph!”
Had Piers-Cameron actually “harrumphed” at Mikhail? Ridiculous! Mikhail sneered. “What would your headline read, Gordo? Man with silver spoon shoved up his ass ruins company and loses billions?”
“Fuck you!” Gordon shouted. “My company is solvent! I’m doing just fine. I’ve always been successful. That’s not something you will ever be able to say!”
“Actually.” Mikhail tossed a manila folder onto the tabletop and smirked. “Technically there is no such thing as your company. It belongs to me.”
* * *
“What are we doing again?” Bella stage-whispered.
Courtney nudged her friend over a little bit so she could see around the large planter positioned outside the wedding planner’s trendy office. Courtney and Bella were ensconced at a little table at a cupcake bar just across the street from Elsa’s glass-front office. So far the trip had been a complete waste of time. Courtney and Bella had watched half a dozen young women from prominent and wannabe-prominent families traipse in and out of the office The florist had been there for awhile. There had been a catering van parked out front for about twenty minutes, and now the place was pretty quiet.
“We need to find
some kind of evidence against Elsa and Creighton,” Courtney reminded Bella.
“Sweetie, you do realize that it is entirely possible that your father won’t care who or what Creighton is doing on the side. Right?”
Courtney did not want to consider that option. “My father might be a moneygrubbing, power-grasping social climber, but he still loves me. I can’t imagine he would want me to leg shackle myself for life to a man who couldn’t even manage to be faithful during our engagement.”
Bella looked at her watch. “Doesn’t Creighton work?”
“I think so. Supposedly he works for his father.”
“So won’t he be at work?” Bella frowned. “I can always find Toby at work between eight and six.”
“You’re forgetting that Toby actually works for a living. Creighton is more of a figurehead type. I don’t think he actually does anything but spend company money on personal items.”
“What a loser,” Bella groaned. “But I guess your dad is just after that money, so he doesn’t really care if the guy is a twit, huh?”
“Pretty much,” Courtney muttered. “Hey, that’s Creighton’s car!” She eagerly watched, pulling out her phone and taking a dozen or more photos and then shooting a video. “Look! He’s getting out.”
“And looking this way!” Bella grabbed Courtney’s shoulder and yanked her around so that her back was facing Elsa’s office. “You can’t just announce that you’re spying!”
“Oh, but I would really like to,” Courtney muttered. “What is he doing?”
“It looks like…” Bella began. “Wait! He just planted a huge kiss on her lips!”
Courtney was still taking pictures. “Man, do you think we could get lucky enough that they’ll have sex in the front window?”
“Ew!” Bella said in protest. “I don’t want to see that!”
“Gotcha sucker!” Courtney said with glee. “Just wait until I show these to my father.”
* * *
Gordon Piers-Cameron shoved the file folder back in Mikhail’s direction. “This can’t be legitimate.”
“It is.” Mikhail shoved the information back. “You’ll find it’s all quite legal. I bought your loans from the bank and acquired a controlling number of shares in your company. Therefore I purchased a seat on the board of directors, whom I approached last night. They were all very agreeable to the idea of a sale. It seems they’re a little tired of the way you run your business, Gordon.”
“Bullshit!” Gordon snapped. “You’re lying.”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not.” Mikhail wondered why he didn’t feel a little more satisfaction. Shouldn’t he be feeling that dark sense of accomplishment that told him he had completely vanquished an ancient enemy?
“You can’t do this!” Gordon opened the folder and began to peruse the contents. He was muttering to himself the whole time. Oddly enough, Mikhail actually felt a little sorry for the poor man. “The business is all I have,” Gordon pleaded. “I had a plan. The bank said they were giving me more time. The directors agreed to do the same. I only needed a few months.”
“Yes. We all know. You intended to force your daughter to save your hide by marrying her off to Creighton Kemper. With the Kemper fortune at your disposal, you would have been able to infuse your business with fresh capital and buy a few more years.” Mikhail didn’t bother to hide his derision. This plan was an anathema to Mikhail for more than one reason.
Piers-Cameron looked aghast. “A few years? It would have put us back on top for good!”
“No.” Mikhail didn’t bother to sugarcoat his assessment. “It was your business practices that drove your business into the dirt, Gordon, not a few lean years. You’re a crappy businessman, and I’m shocked you’ve managed to keep yourself afloat this long.”
“Excuse me?” Piers-Cameron looked incensed. “I was doing this sort of security work before you were whelped!”
“Exactly.” Mikhail snorted. “And you’ve been doing it the same exact way ever since. You don’t advance with the times. You’re afraid of technology, and you’re worse than a late adapter. You cannot survive in this new digital world, and you know it.”
“You’re wrong!”
The protest was going to get the man nowhere with Mikhail. He had already made the deal. The papers were signed, it was official, and the only thing left was to depose the former leader. In other words, Mikhail needed to fire Gordon Piers-Cameron and have him escorted from the building.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” Piers-Cameron protested.
Mikhail smiled. “I already have.”
Chapter Eight
“Daddy!” Courtney strode through the front rooms of her father’s house, searching for him. “Daddy, where are you? This is really important!”
The housekeeper had told her that her father had come home a few hours before and was somewhere in the house. The woman hadn’t expanded on that very much. Usually she told Courtney if her father was in his study, or in the den, or even upstairs in his bedroom suite. This time the housekeeper had seemed a little hesitant to say anything at all, but Courtney had been utterly determined.
“Daddy?”
“In here.”
Courtney stopped in the darkened hallway, cocking her head and trying to decide if she’d imagined her father’s voice coming from the deserted dining room. The immaculate antique table was covered in a drop cloth, and the chairs were covered too. They never used the space except for her father’s exclusive, few and far between dinner parties.
“Dad?” She peered into the darkness, finally spotting his silhouette in a corner. He’d pulled a chair over to the window and was sitting with a decanter of brandy and a glass. Courtney approached slowly, unsure what to make of this bizarre behavior. “What are you doing in here?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. His voice was completely morose. She had never heard him sound so depressed. Not even when her mother had passed away. “What do you want?”
“You have to see these photographs I took and this video!” Courtney eagerly pulled out her phone. “Bella and I staked out Elsa’s office—you know, she’s the wedding planner—because we had suspected that she and Creighton were having an affair.” Courtney tried to hand the phone to her father. “They are! See? You can see them kissing and stuff right in these photos.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her father shoved the phone back into her hands. “I don’t care if Creighton Kemper fucks the whole city. You’re going to marry that man in less than three months.”
“But Dad, he’s cheating on me.” Courtney had to admit that considering her lack of commitment to their relationship, cheating was sort of a loose term to apply. But still, he considered them engaged. “Creighton Kemper is a cheating asshole. He’s fucking the wedding planner, Dad. You can’t expect me to marry a man I don’t like, who won’t even respect me enough to be faithful!”
“Men do what men do,” her father said listlessly. “If you don’t like him, you should be glad. That means he probably won’t want you in his bed.”
Courtney was dumbfounded. Her mouth popped open, and she felt as though her entire world was falling down around her ears. “But Dad, you can’t mean that. Surely you don’t want me to spend my life tied to some jackass like Creighton Kemper!”
“He has money,” her father said quietly. “At this point that is the only thing that matters. The rest is just romantic nonsense not worth worrying about. You’ll get over it. Women always do.”
* * *
Mikhail sat in his darkened office and brooded silently. The lights were out, the staff had gone home, and he was alone. He should have been out celebrating. He should have been elated. He had accomplished everything he had ever set out to do. Even with the added bonus of getting Courtney Piers-Cameron into bed, which hadn’t even been on his list of possible accomplishments.
So why did he feel so empty?
“Thought I might find you here,” Toby said as he walked int
o Mikhail’s office.
The door was wide open. It let a strip of light fall across the floor in the big corner office where Mikhail did business. Now Toby sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of Mikhail’s big desk and propped his feet up. His friend didn’t necessarily look as if he was in a hurry to speak, but Mikhail knew him too well to think he’d come here for any other reason.
“What do you want?” Mikhail asked softly. “I was thinking I needed to be alone.”
“Success really agrees with you, doesn’t it?” Toby mused. “You’re in here pouting as if you’d lost.”
“That old man wasn’t really a threat,” Mikhail reasoned. “He’s just an old guy who never really evolved.”
“Perhaps.”
Mikhail plowed his way through the haze of lethargy in his mind. “What are you saying?”
“Bella told me something rather interesting a few minutes ago.” Toby leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his midsection. “Actually, I should say that she basically screamed it at me. Her outrage—fortunately—was not aimed at me. It was aimed at Gordon Piers-Cameron.”
“What happened?” Mikhail sat up, feeling his blood begin to thrum in his veins. What had that bastard done to his daughter now?”
“Apparently my wife and her BFF went on a little spying mission today.” Toby sounded amused. “They caught good old Creighton Kemper and the wedding planner about to have a little tryst. Bella says they only got photos of the two of them kissing, but the fact that he was at her office in the middle of the day was suspicious anyway.”
“All right.” Mikhail couldn’t understand where this was going. It should be good news. Surely Courtney could get out of the wedding now.
“Bella was pissed because when Courtney told her father about the infidelity, his response was to announce that Courtney was marrying Kemper within three months no matter how many women he fucked between now and then. Bella wants old Gordon’s head on a platter, but my thought is that you’re actually the one to blame. At least indirectly.”
