Eileen
“How’s Ronan doing?” Anton asks, joining me for breakfast on the patio.
It’s nice and warm, a blue sky stretching above us while the birds sing their songs from the sycamore trees in the garden. I wish I could enjoy it more, but recent events have added a sour hint to a life already more complicated than it should be.
“We still don’t know what’s wrong with him, but at least he consented to a few more tests,” I say, absent-mindedly pushing a strawberry across my plate.
My appetite has been dwindling from all the stress. I know I need to eat better for the babies, but between my father’s mystery illness and the attempts on my life, I’m finding self-care to be more of a chore than something I can enjoy.
“They don’t even have a clue?”
I shake my head. “Suspected arrhythmia. Possible heart failure. Apparently, there’s something wrong with his lungs, too. They’re trying a temporary treatment to see how he reacts to it, I guess. They think it might help them narrow it down.”
“Sounds like they’re treating the symptoms, not the root cause.”
“Dr. Rattner said the same thing.”
Anton gives me a curious look. “What do you think about him?”
“About Dr. Rattner? He seems like he definitely knows what he’s doing. The man does have prestige in the field. If you’re worried about the fact that he’s working for the Kuznetsovs, I considered the possibility of foul play, too, but I got a second opinion. I consulted with Dr. Jeffords at the Mayo Clinic. He confirmed Rattner’s professionalism and his preliminary findings.”
“And how are you holding up?”
“I’m just thankful that Ciara and I are sort of speaking again. Dad keeps saying how concerned he is about the two of us getting along after he’s gone. I told him to stop talking like that. Round and round in circles we go.”
He gives me a soft smile. “I hope you’ve come closer to forgiving me for not telling you about Ciara and Sergei.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad about that, but I do understand why you kept it from me. Ignorance wasn’t bliss, however, in this case. Had I not intervened, I don’t know if Ciara alone would’ve been able to convince Dad to consent to further tests.”
“I didn’t mean to keep things from you, Eileen, my intentions were good.”
“We can’t build our marriage on secrets,” I tell him. “The business you’re in, the people you deal with, the danger, I get it. I was raised in that environment, and I probably understand better than most. Which is why I need you to be more open with me. I can’t trust you, otherwise.”
He nods slowly. “You’re absolutely right. I was trying to shield you from harm, even though you’ve proven, over and over again, that you are a strong woman. Probably the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.”
“With that in mind, come with me. There’s something I need to show you,” Anton says.
I can’t help but groan and roll my eyes at him. “Please, enough with the expensive gifts. I told you already that’s not what I want from you. I don’t need jewels, I don’t need money, I don’t need any of that stuff.”
“Just come outside with me,” he chuckles.
“What is it this time, a new car?”
“Eileen Donovan-Karpova, will you please get up and come outside with me? Put your shoes on, while you’re at it.”
Too tired to argue, I do as he asks.
“I don’t like this,” I mutter as we head out the door.
Ian is already outside, waiting for us behind the wheel of Anton’s Bentley. “Ready?” he asks with a sunny disposition.
“Whatever this is, I don’t want it, Anton.”
I take it back.
As soon as I see the building, I know exactly what it’s about. My heart begins to beat faster, the anticipation quick to take over as I look to Anton for guidance.
“What are we doing here?” I ask him, though I’m already certain of the answer.
Ian waits in the car, while my husband and I go up the stairs, entering through the glass double doors. It’s vacant, plain white walls and an original-looking wooden floor, but I can already picture the renovations. Salmon pink ceramic floor tiles with gold veins, an off-white wallpaper with gold-threaded coffee bean motifs, dark wood furniture, and plush, cream-colored seating. My mind is going is mentally decorating the place as I try to contain my enthusiasm.
“I think you already know what we’re doing here, Eileen,” Anton replies.
“I think I need you to say it. Why must I always ask you to say certain things?”
He stops and looks at me, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Must I always say them, even when you know what they are?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, laughing.
“I know you already know.”
“I think I do, but I still want you to say it. I need you to say it. Tell me, Anton, tell me everything, please.”
“There they are!” Tommy Benedetto says cheerfully as he joins us, his shoes clicking heavily across the floor. “The happy Karpov lovebirds!”
“Oh,” I mumble, surprised. “You’re—”
“Alive? Yeah. I assume Anton told you the whole story.”
“I did not,” my husband says. He gives me a curious side-eye, waiting for my reaction.
I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to ruin the moment. Besides, I’m itching with curiosity. “What brings you here, Tommy? Though I’m obviously glad to see you’re well.”
“This is my place. I own it,” he replies. “Well, not for much longer,” he adds, giving Anton a wink.
“Interesting. I actually tried to lease it a while back,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I told my property manager that I wasn’t interested in leasing this unit,” Tommy says. “I was actually considering a flash sale when Anton approached me.”
He goes on to tell me about how Anton didn’t come alone, but with Andrei by his side, ready to issue a formal apology. I listen with wide eyes, struggling not to burst out laughing as I envision the look on Andrei’s face throughout that conversation.
“His ego must be shattered,” I say with a sly grin.
Tommy chuckles dryly. “It was the right thing to do. I even asked a couple of my cousins to join me as official witnesses, because I wasn’t sure anybody would believe me.”
