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You must show people you mean business, or they’ll walk all over you. I wish Darius had been there to see it. Or my brother Ethan, who reports directly to my father.
Someone who could tell my father that Elna Sokolov has balls bigger than the boys in the family, and she’s not afraid to use them. Would they be embarrassed? Probably. My brother Ethan does not like direct confrontations, but it is my father's way. Deal with everything upfront and in person, and never do things underhandedly.
I stop at the traffic light, and as I wait, I punch the address of the butchery into my GPS.
It tells me to turn at the next traffic light. Driving through the neighborhood, it’s clearly a small, close-knit family community. It’s not something flashy that my father can hide his business behind, which makes no sense. Why buy here?
I park across the road from the butchery and sit in my car, watching it for a few minutes. I don’t just want to go in there. I need to think this through clearly.
I need to see the profit files, the business information, and anything that can tell me more about this butchery and why it would be useful to our family. I am going to have to walk in there as though I already own the store and demand the files without hesitation.
If I come across too weak, they won’t give me the time of day, and I refuse to mess this up.
I fix my clothes and take out my red lipstick. I fix my lips and smack them a few times to make sure it’s even. I fluff up my curls and sling my handbag over my shoulder as I step out of my car.
I walk confidently across the road and toward the butchery. I don’t want to go straight in and look desperate, so I look through the window as though taking mental notes. I step back and examine the signs above the shop, nodding to myself.
I look at my watch and then walk inside the butchery and wait. The owner, well, the old man that I presume is the owner, is busy with a customer, so I peruse the meats they have to offer while he serves his customer.
A woman comes to the counter and stops near me. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“I need to speak to the current owner of this establishment,” I say.
“He’s this gentleman over here. He’ll be done soon.” She moves away, and I continue to browse the meat. I move closer and closer to the man as he winds up the transaction with the customer.
Once she leaves, he turns to me. “How can I be of assistance?”
I look at him. He’s covered in bruises. Someone gave him a beatdown. I nod. “My name is Elena Sokolov. I come on behalf of Emery Sokolov, the new owner of this butchery.”
“We haven’t finished transferring the deed yet, and until that’s done, it’s still my butchery.” The man crosses his arms. “Now, do you want some meat, or is there something I can help you with?”
“Roger,” a woman calls from the back.
Chapter 3 - Arseny
The trip to Danil is long because I get stuck in traffic. There seems to be an accident on the freeway, and there’s nowhere to get off before my turn-off.
People are honking in frustration, and the Vegas heat bears down on me like a ton of bricks, even with my air conditioning on full blast. I check my phone: Roger says he needs an extra hand later if I’m willing. I respond with an immediate yes and tuck my phone away.
I crawl past the accident, truck collision with a bus, grizzly sight. I take the turn-off and enter into the quieter neighborhood of the more elite estates. Danil doesn’t live too far from my mother’s house. We tried to get estates within a short distance if we need one another. My estate is a mile from Danil’s.
I pull into his driveway and get out of my car as Wynter comes out of the house.
“Cousin,” Wynter says with a grin. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you, Wynter. Sorry, I haven’t been to the gym. I had family business to attend to.” I shake his hand firmly.
“I heard. It’s okay. Don’t forget we’re starting boxing and running next week.”
“Don’t miss leg days,” I joke and pat him on the back.
I walk to Danil’s house, where the guards let me in. I’m crossing the entrance hall toward Danil’s office when a voice from up the stairs stops me.
“Fancy seeing you here. That’s twice in one day,” Asher comes downstairs with Jade in her arms. My now toddler niece looks adorable in a little pink tutu and a little punk rock shirt.
“Neenee,” she squeals and reaches for me.
I take her into my arms and hold her. “Hello, little one. Are you excited to see Uncle Neenee?”
