Page 42 of Sexting His Assistant

“I can fix it.”

“Not with my assets.”

His charm finally thins. “If you lock me out, I lose everything.”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Kirill’s mouth opens, then closes again. He looks suddenly less like a businessman and more like a man who has heard footsteps behind him in an empty street.

“I have a family,” he says.

The room goes still.

There are several things men should not do in my office.

Begging is one. Using family as currency is another.

I lean back in my chair. “Then you should’ve remembered them before you gambled with money that belonged to people less forgiving than I am.”

Kirill swallows. “You’re not forgiving.”

“No,” I say. “But I’m honest.”

His eyes flick toward Oleg, then back to me. “There are others interested.”

“I know.”

“One of them will say yes,” Kirill says.

“Then go to him.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“If I go to Karpov, he’ll take the route.”

I study him.

Roman Karpov. Karpov has been circling the edges of my legitimate business for months, buying weak suppliers, offering foolish terms to desperate men, whispering that Kazan money is too careful, too corporate. He wants the old channels. He wants leverage. More importantly, he wants to test which of my people can be bought before I notice.

I always notice.

“You came here to threaten me with Karpov?” I ask.

Kirill pales. “No. I came here because I prefer to work with you.”

“You came here because Karpov offered you a rope and you realized too late it was a leash.”

Oleg’s face remains blank.

I turn my attention to him. “Oleg,” I say.

His eyes snap to mine. “Mr. Kazan.”

“You advised this visit?”