Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

crewing it into the tabletop.

When he speaks it’s through gritted teeth. “I hate that you’re able to turn up here in the middle of the night and reorganize my whole life just because it suits you.”

I sink down beside him on the sofa and clap a hand on his shoulder. “It’s for both of us. If you don’t want this, just tell me so.” And I’ll find another way of getting you onto my side. There are dozens of possibilities. Lies. Murder. Blackmail. Coercion. Really, the list is endless. People give up far too quickly on their dreams.

He sighs. “How are we going to tell father?”

“You really mean it?”

Mikhail meets my eyes bleakly. “I have to get out, because he’s going to kill me, one way or another. That man is poison.”

I put my vodka down and wrap my arms around him. You’ve got to be a bit soft with Mikhail to get what you want out of him. He’s a big bastard, but he needs a bit of affection. As he clasps me back I think that, maybe, in this moment, I might feel something close to what people call love.

“How am I going to tell father?” he asks.

I pull back and rest my hands on his shoulders. “Just don’t show up tomorrow. You owe him nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing.”

I don’t plan on setting eyes on that piece of shit ever again. If his funeral was tomorrow, I’d go to a strip club instead and blow ten grand on girls and champagne.

Mikhail thinks this through, and I watch him in impatient silence. Everything always takes so long with him. Can’t he see that I’m offering him freedom from everything that’s plaguing his life? When it’s the two of us against the world, everything is better and brighter. He needs to be at my side while I devise schemes and plans for us, and we’ll never need anyone else ever again.

Mikhail stands up and gets the vodka out of the freezer again. “Where have you been all this time, anyway?”

I make a dismissive gesture, watching him pour two more measures into our glasses. “Just hanging out with some nobodies. What’s important is what happens now. A new road for us, without our parents’ poison.”

Mikhail looks up sharply at that. I know he loved our mother and she loved him, but that bitch was just as much of a wedge between us as our psychopath father is.

“Come on, Mikhail. What have you got to lose? We’ll be partners, just you and me.”

Mikhail’s mouth twitches, and I see the beginnings of a smile. Three years under our father’s thumb must have been a nightmare for him, and I’m saving him from all that. With his brains and patience and my instincts and hunger, we’re both going to become very, very rich, and he knows it.

“Partners,” he insists, quashing the smile, though his eyes are still glimmering with excitement. “Equal partners. Equal risks and rewards. I’m not living under anyone’s fucking rule anymore.”

I hold out my hand to him and say, “Partners,” meaning it with every fiber of my being. I’m not my father.

I’m not.

We shake firmly and it feels, not like a business deal, but like coming home.

Mikhail slaps his thigh hard and goes back to the freezer. “More vodka. Let’s finish the bottle. After this, I’m done drinking. You see what our father has driven me to?”

I grin, because he’s changed so much since he first opened the door. He’s standing straight now and fire burns in his eyes. He pours the last inch of vodka into our glasses and throws the bottle into the trash.

“What are we going to call this company?” he asks.

I think for a moment. “How about Ravnikar Enterprises?”

Mikhail nods. “I like it. To Ravnikar Enterprises,” he says, holding his glass aloft.

I tap my glass against his and drain the vodka in one swallow. It burns down my throat, clear and bright.

“In the morning I’ll tell father that it’s over between us, forever.” Mikhail’s eyes are bright with purpose.

“Are you insane? You don’t say something like that to his face. If you have to tell him, leave him a voicemail or something. That old bastard can’t stand to lose. Now, let’s get some sleep. I’m exhausted.”

Mikhail shows me to the guest room and bids me goodnight. He heads off to his room looking a whole lot better than he did when I arrived. Tomorrow, father’s going to know that neither of his sons will have anything to do with him ever again. No more divide and conquer. We’re united against him.

It’s the middle of the morning when I awaken, and the apartment is empty. Mikhail’s briefcase is still on the table. I frown at it, rubbing the stubble on my chin and wondering where he could have gone. It’s not like he has to go into work now.