“Tell me the truth—have you ever been happy there?”
“Well…” I consider. “I’m happy when I do my job well. When I win a case.”
“Okay. That’s important. But that could happen anywhere. At any firm. It doesn’t have to be your dad’s. Especially now that he’s…”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I feel like with his stroke, it’s even more important now that I make partner. I have to preserve his legacy, you know?”
“What do you think matters more to your dad, a healthy grandson or you making partner?”
I hesitate because I’m honestly not sure. My dad’s pushed me so hard from the beginning.
“It’s the healthy grandson,” Gretchen supplies when I don’t answer. “I know you’ve internalized his career goals for you, but trust me—if he could talk—he’d tell you to give yourself a break. Starting a family on your own isn’t going to be easy.”
“Is this supposed to be a pep talk?” I complain.
“I’m just worried about you. Are you sure I can’t fly out?”
I close my smarting eyes. I desperately want to talk to her about my much bigger problems right now, but I can’t. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I somehow manage to keep my voice even. “But let’s talk soon.”
“Yeah, don’t make me call four times before you pick up next time.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Thanks for being such a good friend.”
“Aw, you know I’m here for you. Any time. And if you want to quit that job and move out here so we can give that baby two mamas, I’m down.”
I laugh.
“Thanks, but my mom would never speak to me again. I love you.”
“Love you too. Take care.”
I hang up and wipe my brimming eyes.
A light tap sounds on the door. I don’t realize I’m foolishly hoping for Ravil until I register disappointment at seeing Maxim instead. He pokes his head in. “I’m leaving for Moscow. Just thought I’d say goodbye.” He holds up a hand like he’s waving. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone—but hopefully, I’ll be back before the baby’s born.”
I look past him to see if Ravil’s there. He’s not.
“Ravil’s licking his wounds,” he says, reading my body language. “The thing you have to remember, counselor, is that male egos are quite fragile. Especially when it comes to beautiful women.”
I twist my lips, considering him. So, did Ravil share with him what happened? My cheeks heat.
“He’s painted himself into a corner with you.” Maxim shoves his hands in his pockets and leans his back against the door. “Something, I suspect, he’s coming to regret. He loves you, Lucy. Or he’s falling in love.”
My stomach somersaults at that news, but I shake my head. “This isn’t love.”
“What you should know is that he’d do just about anything for you.” He cocks his head to the side. “Short of letting you and that baby go.” He opens the door and takes a step backward to stand halfway out. “He doesn’t like to show his hand, which serves him well in business but not in love. That’s why I’m here to help him along.” He leans his head back in. “Before it’s too late.”
It was too late the moment he took me prisoner, I want to say, but Maxim’s already shut the door.
“Have a safe trip,” I call out.
The door pops back open, and his friendly face appears. “Thanks, doll. You keep yourself and that baby safe.”
I find myself smiling a little at the closed door when he leaves. It’s hard not to like Ravil’s whole crew.
Do these men seem like sex traffickers? Murderers? Heathens?
No.
Still, I know for a fact they’re bratva. And so is Ravil. So my question last night wasn’t that far out of line. Especially considering the limited facts I have.
But Ravil was hurt by it. That was my impression, and Maxim said as much.
So I guess I owe him an apology.
Some of the tension in me leaves at that decision. It feels right.
You claim to have had complete knowledge of my profession—exactly what I do and how I manage my business? You researched this thoroughly before you made the decision to keep our son from me?
Maybe I did bruise his ego. He doesn’t seem insecure, but Maxim seems to think my mistrust of him and his business dealings hurt him.
If only I believed I could trust him. But how can I? He’s a criminal mastermind, and I have no idea the nature of his crimes.
When Valentina brings my lunch, I say to her, “Tell Ravil I refuse to eat unless he joins me.”
By the way her eyes widen, I can tell she understands me. She’s still been speaking Russian until now, but she bobs her head. “Okay. I will tell Ravil now.” She hurries out like the baby will starve to death if I don’t eat in the next thirty seconds.
I have to admit, it sometimes feels that way.