Читать книгу The bride of the silver dragon - Dmitry Nazarov - Страница 12

Today is one of those days when I can get home early and spend the evening all by myself. Usually I either have another meeting with business associates or dinner with some important politician or someone close to them. These meetings are arranged by A’Leta’s father, because, despite my assistants responsible for expanding my political circle, he knows the kitchen not only from within, but also from a handshake’s distance. More than once I have wasted my time talking to another “nobody” pretending to be an important decision-maker, and then it turned out that, in fact, some inconspicuous little mouse a la the Gray Cardinal was in charge.

A’Leta’s father knew all these subtleties, he knew who was really deciding things and who was just fluffing them up.

And even my favorite cognac, which I sip in proud solitude, cannot override the unpleasant aftertaste of the fact that it would be very foolish to lose such an important ally one step before the finish line. But no matter how fatherly he may be to me, and no matter how much he sings about seeing me as his unborn son and successor, it is unlikely that he would try as hard if I broke off my engagement to A’Lita. And she knows that, and she will insist that I do as she says.

I’ll be damned.

A sip of strong alcohol only burns my throat, but does not bring any pleasure.

I can’t stand being in a weak position. I can’t stand situations where I have to conform to other people’s rules, because too much is at stake. And now, as opposed to fulfilling my long-held dream, I must… get rid of Margot.

It disgusts me to even think about it.

I closed my eyes and replayed that image of her in my head-the downward glance, the long, bitter chocolate hair, the challenge in her green eyes. My fingers tightened their grip on the glass.

Lori is often right, and that’s why I appreciate my assistant, but he was triply right when he said I didn’t need to meet Marguerite in person. And even though Laurie was hinting at very different reasons-acquaintance with the “enemy” always brings a touch of personal attitude to a confrontation-the result was still the same.

I can’t destroy this woman because I want her too much.

Grab her goddamn hair in an armful, wrap it around my fist, and lower her head low enough that she has to look up at me from below. I wonder what her green eyes would be like then? Would they be as bold?

A noise stirred my imagination, just in time.

Sh’Irene, my nephew, is coming down the stairs with a half-empty gym bag over his shoulder. He spots me and smiles broadly, though I bet he’s still angry that I never let him take Laurie’s place.

After my brother and his wife died-many years ago-I took Shea under my wing. His custody wasn’t even on the agenda. His mother’s parents tried to wrest the rights to their nephew from me, but I shamelessly used all my connections and opportunities to push my position. Except for my brother, whom I loved very much and with whom we had been friends since childhood, Shea was my only family. Perhaps that was why I spoiled him a little, forgave him all his tricks and hardly ever punished him, though during his teenage rebellion and later, in his first year at university, when he was first hit by the echoes of the moon, he had done things that made even a very sophisticated me blush.

But luckily the Shad’far blood had taken its toll, and the little one’s brains were in place, and Shea was now almost the best man in the investment department. And so far he hadn’t made a single mistake, not even a minor one.

So, given the vague prospects of having children of my own someday in the future, I am quite seriously considering him for the role of successor. Years from now, of course. Let him get used to it a little first, realize that not all academic knowledge works, learn to make decisions with a cool head and not be chased by ambition. Although my brother and I, orphaned at the age of twenty, had to “enter” our parents’ business practically blind, deaf and barefoot and, as that human saying goes, to get our weapons in combat.

– You do know that drinking alcoholic beverages alone is the first sign of alcoholism, right? – Shea nods at my glass.

– Yeah, I know. – I salute him with my expensive, exclusive cognac. – Didn’t you get all your stuff out?

Shea finally moved out of my house right after I got into university. First, he moved into a dormitory, categorically refusing to live in the comfortable apartment that I offered to rent, and then, when I took him on a summer internship in his third year, he rented a small apartment on the outskirts of the capital with his first money. Now, as far as I know, he’s moved into a nice apartment.

I couldn’t help but respect him for this adult separation.

And I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the fact that I would have made a great father, since I had done so well raising a spoiled little brat who had been spoiled by his parents.

– It was me who stole a couple of bags of money from your safe,” jokes the nephew.

He throws the bag on the floor near the couch and pours some tonic into a glass – he doesn’t drink on principle. He is indifferent to meat. At the same time he’s got muscles on him from somewhere, for the sake of which I sit on a fitness diet and… hmmm… “make love” to the machines for two hours four times a week. It’s at times like this that you somehow immediately begin to feel every one of your forties and have an uncomfortable sense of envy.

– I’ll keep you company. – Shea touches his glass lightly to mine-and we take a sip each in silence. – I heard A’Leta was in the office.

– She was. – I licked the rest of the cherry-chocolate-flavored alcohol from my lips, hoping to block out the aftertaste of our conversation. – She came to make terms.

– Again? I don’t know why you haven’t gotten rid of her. After that stripper scandal…’ The nephew let out a greasy chuckle. I remember that he was almost the only one who, in response to the hysteria in the press, declared ‘powder in my powders. This added fuel to the fire of angry women, but strangely enough, it brought new male supporters into my ranks.

– I need her father’s connections, Shea.

– You’re already on your feet, you’ve got a great team, and the last poll showed that your rating hasn’t suffered that much.

– It’s only down five points.

I didn’t think it was much at first, either, until my closest competitor got four up against my five percent down – and the gap between us became noticeably smaller. Feeling breathing down your neck is not the most pleasant feeling in life, let me tell you.

– Have you invited your girlfriend to the fundraiser yet? – I take the conversation to a calmer direction. Sometimes even “heartless moonshiners,” as Margarita would say, need a moment of peace with a hint of the illusion of well-being.

– Girlfriend? – He pretends to be unfamiliar with the word. – Is that what you call a female with whom you need to spend your time away from a twenty-five hour workday?

– Okay, – I waved him off and respected his right to keep his private life under lock and key. Damn, he’s got me there! If anything happened, there’d be no doubt that not even a sniffer can find out how, where, or with whom he spends his time.

– K’Reig, I wanted to talk to you about…

– …inheritance, – I finish for him confidently. I recognize his tone, unmistakably, with a faint yet thinly disguised note of irritation. – No.

My brother’s share of the business was only twenty-five percent, because I confidently held the fifty-one percent controlling stake in my hands because it was written so in our father’s will, even though my brother was older and had every right to claim a larger share of the inheritance. But he did not even try to contest the will, only congratulated him and said that these shares would not make him any richer or happier than he already was.

His father never forgave him for his early marriage – at only eighteen! – his choice of maid of honor and the fact that she was already deeply pregnant at the time of consummation.

– I want a seat on the board, K’Reig.

– No, – I reply, as usual, with a categorical tone. – You’re not ready.

– Not ready… or are you just afraid? – The nephew frowns unkindly.

– I have nothing to fear, Shea. I have the controlling interest anyway, which is enough to undo any stupidity on your part. Even if, by some miracle, you somehow get along with the rest of the board and the big shareholders.

– Then I don’t understand it all the more!

– You’re not ready, – I say again. – Let me finish my campaign and sit in the senator’s chair, and I’ll gladly get rid of that burden.

– When I was twenty-one, you said I wasn’t ready, because I hadn’t finished my studies. At twenty-three you said I didn’t have enough practice. At twenty-five, you said I wasn’t trying hard enough. And now you’ve come up with a new excuse. Although, you know, I don’t need your approval!

Of course he doesn’t need your approval, because, according to my brother’s will, I could be Sh’Irene’s guardian until he was of full age. But we both know that even if he has every legal right to be on the Board, he won’t be anything unless I back up his rights with my word and my vote.

But lately Shea has been especially insistent.

I guess that girlfriend of his that he won’t talk about is making him think about his future – fat, secure, and independent of the opinion of one grumpy old man.

Me.

– You haven’t needed my approval for anything for a long time, – I try to keep my tone even, but there are still notes of omniscient me in it. And, of course, Shea hears it, because she frowns even more. – When your father and I got this business, it wasn’t in the best shape. We literally had to pull it out of a hole, and you have no idea the lengths we went to. Some things I’d like to forget, but they’ll stay in my head until the gravestone.

– Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before, – he sneered. He gets up, purposely rattling the bottom of his glass on the table, and throws his bag over his shoulder.

I have to catch up with the stubborn donkey at the door and squeeze his shoulder tighter.

He’s a big forehead, of course, but I’m still stronger, and no matter how hard Shea tries, he still wrinkles in pain when my fingers literally dig into his shoulder.

– If you think I haven’t had to get my hands dirty since this went well, you’re very much mistaken.

He stares long and hard into my eyes, and finally his gaze clears.

– Because, – I continued my sad confession, – the higher you sit on top, the more people want to throw you down, and you have to fight not with mosquitoes and sparrows, but with harpies. Believe me, it makes you feel better, because there’s dirt that can’t be washed off with any soap, even if you can’t see it. I don’t wish that fate on you. Bye.

Shea sighed, but his desire to bicker was gone. Not for long, of course, but at least I won’t have to listen to his ambitious plans again for a while.

– You still won’t tell me who she is? – I shout to his back again, but Shea laughingly closes the door, giving me a very modern-looking middle finger goodbye. – Little asshole.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to give the go-ahead to find out who the mysterious stranger my nephew is dating is. Usually he never made a secret of his relationship, and as soon as he got a new girlfriend, I’d know about it in a couple of days, because the news was pouring in from every corner. Now all the news about Shea is all about his private lifestyle.

But he’s twenty-eight now. He’ll be in his thirties in a little while. Over the years I had become so full of women that I was very selective about who I put in bed, and even more careful to make sure that information about who I put in bed did not get out of my bedroom. The only time this has ever been made public…

Oh, Natasha-Natasha…