Page 66 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

“Excuse me?” she questioned with the same air of indignance.

It took practically no time at all for him to become bored with her poor pity me, the victim act. “Your allowance ended as of your last payment, and your building dues are paid up until the end of the month. My financial help ends then, Mat. I can’t imagine how you’re going to keep the hotel suites you’ve been switching out every week or so since I added that extra on top every month, but that also isn’t my problem. Hopefully the amount of my money you poured into all that plastic surgery will still make you worth something to the names in your black book, hmm?”

“You prick!”

“Get a new insult. That only hurt when I was a boy.” Vaslav smiled down at his mother. “Also, the gate to the property in Dubna will no longer be open to you, and trespassers are shot on sight.”

Natalia gasped, indignant in a blink. “You wouldn’t, Vaslav.”

“Mat, I will personally pull the trigger and dig your grave.”

The hymn down below finally ended.

Vaslav had maybe two minutes to catch his ride outside.

“And if you think you want to challenge me in court or elsewhere, if there’s even an ounce in you that believes there’s anything left for you to take, Mat,” Vaslav informed with a shrug of his shoulders as he turned to follow an already retreating Igor from the private balcony, “I hate to tell, but don’t waste your breath. As of the first of December, my new wife will gain ownership of every account, property, investment, and anything else in my name that’s there for her to have.”

“Married?” she shrieked as a realization dawned over her face. “That’s ... less than thirty days away!”

It was entirely possible that someone down below might have heard her with the priest’s murmurings echoing through the old church’s speaker system. Vaslav simply didn’t care.

“Yes, and not enough time for you to put any kind of plan together,” Vaslav said as he headed down the aisle in the small balcony between the rows of chairs. Only four, with two chairs on either side. “Have a lonely trip to hell, Mat.”

“Vaslav! Where are you going? We are not done speaking here! Vaslav!”

And may she forever rot there.

Igor waited in the corridor outside the balcony for Vaslav to pass before he followed right behind, saying, “While we’re in the city, we could make a trip downtown. Your accountant has the money ready.”

“It only took him two fucking months.”

Which was the only reason why Vaslav didn’t make a trip to Feliks’ beloved Swan House after he left a reminder in the form of a written note on Vera’s front door. He disliked the idea that Feliks had unfortunately tied Vera to Vaslav in a way that meant she could be a messenger for him.

That would end.

Soon.

Igor sniffed, muttering, “Nobody has a hundred million in American dollars on hand, Vas.”

Fair enough.

The bigger question at hand?

“Had it been a check, or even a transfer, Feliks could have had his money a lot sooner,” Vaslav told Igor. Unlike others who didn’t have a significant amount of money on hand, Vaslav did. In various accounts from banks all across the world. He never kept more than a handful of millions in one account in case it was flagged or closed for some reason.

It still took time to turn digital into paper.

“His business is failing, his life is practically over,” Vaslav said more to himself than Igor, “and Feliks didn’t want instant money. Essentially.”

His man didn’t reply.

Vaslav didn’t need him to.

“No, not Feliks,” Vaslav muttered, still working over the problem at hand in his mind, turning the corner at the end of the hall that led to a stairwell. “Feliks wants cash.”

“Apparently,” Igor returned, “it took six duffle bags to hold it all, too.”

Of course, it did.