“So who the hell are you even working for? There aren’t that many rich dudes in Philly—or at least, not that many who are rich enough to hire a whole other person just to do charity stuff for them,” Sam pointed out. “And aren’t you going to offer me something to eat or drink?” Danielle rolled her eyes.
“You can have something to drink, but considering you rolled up here to lecture me on my life just because I didn’t tell you about my new job, I am not offering to feed you,” she told him. Danielle rose to her feet and went into the kitchen, grateful for—if nothing else—the opportunity to regain some of her composure and have some space to keep her mind going, to stay ahead of Sam’s questions.
“So who are you working for?” Danielle grabbed her brother a beer and got one for herself as well before coming back to the table.
“You don’t know him,” she said.
“Give me his name, sis,” Sam countered, his voice a little firmer.
“His name is Victor Andersson,” she replied, unable to see a way out of the question without getting more interrogation as a result. Sam frowned.
“You’re sure he’s not connected to anyone?” Danielle shrugged.
“He isn’t connected directly to any of the families, that’s all I know,” she told him. Sam’s eyes narrowed and he sipped his beer.
“So, he’s giving you a good living, and you met him that night a month ago?” Danielle nodded.
“Lucky thing, I guess,” she said, sipping her own beer.
“Okay, he’s not connected to any of the families—what was he doing there?” Danielle once more felt her heart beating faster in her chest and tried to think quickly.
“He was out, what do you want? People go to that club for legit reasons too,” she pointed out.
“How did he end up offering you a job?” Danielle shrugged.
“We both got out ahead of the raid, and went for a drink and started talking,” she replied. “He mentioned that he was looking to hire someone to oversee his charity stuff, and we talked some more and he ended up offering me the job the next day.” That was as close to the truth as she was going to get with Sam; besides, Danielle reasoned: he didn’t need to know any extra details. It was her life.
“What did you say his name was again?” Sam frowned, and Danielle felt her throat tighten a bit.
“Victor Andersson,” she replied, keeping her voice carefully level.
“Son of a bitch,” Sam muttered. “I know who that guy is.” Danielle raised an eyebrow. How had her brother heard of Victor? Had her new boss been lying to her? There’s no way that he should know about Victor having anything to do with the Sokolov people in the past—Vic only got some funding from them.
“I mean, he’s a billionaire living in the city so I would guess he’s pretty well-known,” Danielle said, trying to cover her sudden sense of trepidation.
“About five years ago he was looking for funding to start his business, and we made him an offer,” Sam said. “I was low-rank then, but I heard about it—because he rejected us.” Sam looked at Danielle steadily. “Word on the street was that he got some money from the Sokolovs back then—and that he paid it back fast.” Danielle shrugged again.
“He doesn’t have anything to do with them now,” she pointed out.
“He’s still friends with them,” Sam countered. “He was at their club that night.”
“So were you,” Danielle pointed out. “Does that mean you’re connected with the Sokolovs?” Sam rolled his eyes.
“I was there on business,” he told her firmly. “And now I find out you’re cozy with someone who knows them—who’s worked with them after rejecting our bid.”
“What the hell does that matter? He isn’t laundering money for them or anything,” Danielle said firmly. While she couldn’t be absolutely sure that that was true—after all, she wasn’t his accountant—she did trust that Victor had been honest with her. Hadn’t he given her the job specifically so that she could make a bigger step away from the syndicate her brother belonged to? Hadn’t he insisted that she look and come across as someone who had never been involved in any way with the Bey family?
“It matters because he snubbed us,” Sam replied. “And you’re in a position to give us some intel on him.” Danielle set her beer down and stared at her brother.
“I don’t know who the hell you think I am, Samuel,” she said slowly, “but I got out of family business a long time ago and I’m not about to get involved in it now.”
“If he’s still having shit to do with the Sokolovs, he might be open to new investment opportunities,” Sam said. “And we have just as much a right to his time on that as they do, even if he turned down our funding five years ago.”
“He might have a personal relationship with one or two members of that family,” Danielle said dismissively—she knew good and well that he was still on fairly good terms with Nikolai Sokolov. “But that’s between him and them. I’m not there to manage his investments. I’m there to work on his charity giving. You want an audience with him? Talk to his accountant.” Sam scowled at her.
“You’re making a hundred grand a year, and have extra money coming to you just to buy clothes and get your hair done, but you won’t do your own brother a solid and try and get your new boss interested in a business opportunity?” Danielle shook her head.
“I am not going to jeopardize my job by getting him involved in something that might bring him down,” Danielle said. “I don’t trust you to bring him fully legitimate business.”