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That “encounter” was when Timofey fought—literally—to reclaim guardianship of Benjamin after he panicked and left him at the hospital. After Emily abandoned her baby on Timofey’s doorstep. Right before she was murdered.
Now, Timofey is fighting with Kreshnik as retaliation for Benjamin’s kidnapping.
If these suited men knew a single thing about what Timofey is dealing with, they wouldn’t be nearly as critical. The fact Timofey hasn’t killed someone is a miracle.
“Our stock prices were just starting to rebound from that crisis, and now, this…” The thin man pinches the bridge of his long nose. “If we want the company to continue on, we don’t have another choice.”
I frown, looking from face to face. What does that mean? What choice do they have?
I don’t understand, but Timofey must. He stands up and leans across the table, jabbing a finger in the thin man’s face.
“Oh, you mean the company I built from the ground up?” he barks. “The company I took from a single mechanic shop on the wrong side of town to a corporation that has operations worldwide? Is that the company thatyouneed to take control of now? How convenient, showing up after I’ve busted my ass for over a decade.”
The bearded man is calmer now. He takes over from the thin man. “No one is trying to diminish what you’ve done here, Timofey. And no one will forget your contributions. We just think it would be wise if we parted ways with you from this point on. We need to focus on stabilizing our image.”
“Fuck you with the business speak, Manuel. You needed an excuse to use the powerIgave you to boot me out so you could have more for yourself. I’d applaud you if I wasn’t the one getting the shaft.”
Timofey is scary angry right now. He’s shaking, and I’m waiting for him to unleash the same kind of fury he unleashed on Kreshnik on this entire room.
I’m not sure I want to be here when he does.
“This has nothing to do with individual power,” Manuel says. “We have the gala coming up soon, and we need to rally as much support as possible from the investors and government officials. That is easier to do when we can tell them that we are handling affairs within our own walls. I’m sorry that comes at your expense, but—”
“At least it isn’t coming at yours, right?” Timofey snaps.
Slowly, I slip away from the table.
No one is paying any attention to me, which is just the way I like it. The interrogation alone drained me of energy. I can’t handle the tempers in this room. When they explode, I’d like to be far, far away.
I step into the hallway as Timofey threatens the red-haired man. “I’ll tell your wife why she couldn’t tag along on that business trip you took last year. Or did you already tell her it’s because there wouldn’t be enough room in the bed for the two of youandyour intern?”
I close the door to the conference room and wander down the hallway.
Viktorov Industries looks just like any office building I’ve ever been in. Modern, boring hallways with identical doors and silver nameplates. It’s generic and the longer I walk around, the more I feel like I’m making circles, forever spiraling inward until this reality will collapse around me.
Then I see Timofey’s name.
Timofey Viktorov, CEO
His office is at the end of a long hall. His doorway is wider than the others. There are windows set into the wall on both sides of the door, but the blinds are drawn.
I try the knob and am surprised to find it’s unlocked. I push the door open and step inside.
The room smells like him, spiced and warm. Through the dark, I make my way to the wall of windows and pull back the blinds.
“Wow,” I breathe. His view of the city is spectacular. I was so nervous about the board meeting that I didn’t really register how high the elevator carried us.
It feels like I’m on top of the world. Timofey must feel like that every day.
Or, he did. When he was still the CEO.
The view turns stale, realizing it might belong to someone else in a matter of days. I drop the blinds and drop down onto the leather sofa.
Is it my fault? Maybe if I’d put on a better performance, the men would have kept Timofey as CEO. I considered crying. Should I have cried?
Or maybe I should have gone into detail about the assault. I should have made up something really egregious so they’d realize how depraved Kreshnik is. Then they could have excused any behavior from Timofey as completely and totally justified.
I drop my face into my hands and blow out a breath.
