Page 83 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

His face goes pale but he doesn't look away from me. "I believe you," he says. It's the statement of a man who's had his share of threats dealt to him.

"Good." I lean back in the chair. "Then we understand each other."

Oleg turns his head and looks at the window for a long moment. The blinds are half open and pale light shines across the blanket on his bed in thin stripes. I can see his jaw working as he processes everything I've just told him. "I won't make the same mistakes again, Krasnov," he says, still looking at the window. "I know what I am and I know what I've done and I have no illusions about what I deserve. But my daughter loves you, and my grandson is your son. It's enough reason for me to keep mymouth shut and my hands where you can see them for the rest of my life."

"That's exactly what I needed to hear."

"Can I ask you one thing?" he says, turning back to me.

"You can ask."

"The Gusev organization. What happens to it now that he's dead?" I can see the fear in his eyes. Those men came to kill him, and they almost succeeded.

"I'm absorbing it," I tell him. "Gusev's lieutenants have already been given a choice. They fold into my operation under my terms, or they leave the city and don't come back. Most of them have chosen to stay because they're businessmen before they're loyalists, and a dead boss doesn't inspire much loyalty."

Oleg nods. "So the men who came after my family are either working for you now or they're gone."

"That's correct. The Gusev name is finished and anyone who was connected to the order against you and Emory and the boy has been dealt with. You're safe, Oleg."

He closes his eyes and sighs and when he opens them again they're wet. "Thank you," he says.

"Don't thank me. Just keep your word." I'm about to stand when the door opens behind me and Emory walks in carrying a paper bag from the bakery down the street. She stops short when she sees me in the chair beside her father's bed, and her expression shifts to surprise.

"I didn't know you were coming today," she says, setting the bag on the side table.

"I had business with your father," I tell her, standing and buttoning my coat.

"Business?" she asks, looking at Oleg, who gives her a small nod.

"He's very persuasive," Oleg tells her with a wink and then he chuckles.

She crosses to me and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my chest. I hold her there for a moment, and over her shoulder I see Oleg watching us. He looks at peace knowing his daughter is in good hands. Almost like his entire life has been lived with one purpose, to make sure she grows up and starts her life safe.

"Batya, look," Emory says, pulling back from me and holding up her left hand toward the bed. The diamond catches the light from the window as she grins. "He gave it to me last night."

Oleg reaches for her hand and takes it gently, turning it so the stone catches the light. His thumb runs across the band and looks at it for a long time. I watch his eyes well up and him blink them back. He knows his daughter is in good hands now, marrying the most powerful man in this city.

"It's beautiful, Em," he mumbles. "It's really beautiful."

"It belonged to his grandmother," Emory tells him, glancing back at me. "Anna gave it to him and he had it resized. She told me the story of how his grandfather proposed to her in a railyard in Moscow during a snowstorm, and that she wore this ring every day for forty-seven years until the day he died."

"Your mother would've loved that story," Oleg says, still holding her hand. "She always said you deserved a man who would giveyou the world, and I think this one might actually be able to do it."

"Don't get sentimental on me, Batya. You'll pull your stitches."

He laughs a short, raspy laugh that makes him wince, pressing his free hand against his stomach. Emory leans down and kisses his forehead, smoothing his hair back. "I need to ask you something," she says, sitting on the edge of his bed and keeping hold of his hand. "And you can say no if you're not up for it, but I really hope you won't."

"What is it?"

"Will you walk me down the aisle?"

Oleg's chin trembles and he clenches his lips together, trying to control his emotions. He looks at Emory and then at me standing behind her, and whatever hatred he's had for me seems to dissolve.

"You try and stop me," he says, squeezing her hand and smiling. But even the warm expression can't chase away the sickly yellow tint of his skin. I hope he lives long enough to fulfill that promise.

Emory leans forward and puts her arms around his neck carefully, mindful of the tubes and the bandages, and Oleg wraps one arm around her back and holds her as tightly as his broken body will let him. I stand by the window and give them the moment. It might be one of very few that he has left, and I know from personal experience how important they are. If I could get one moment back with my father, I'd take it. I'd trade my millions for it.

When Emory pulls back she wipes her eyes and laughs at herself, and Oleg wipes his eyes. Then she unpacks the pastries from the bag and arranges them on his tray while he watches her carefully. I step into the hallway to call Devid.