Page 69 of Preferential Treatment

Weeks passed, and he drifted through them on autopilot. Domovoy continued to operate, continued to climb in profit and prestige. After a vote, the shareholders approved Domovoy’s second stock split. The value of shares shot up almost immediately after, and Mikhail found himself even richer than before, but with none of the comfort those numbers used to provide. Instead, he could only imagine Kate’s disdain.

What if he gave her half his shares?

No. She’d already told him no.

What if he appointed her to the board in his place?

Not what she wanted.

She wanted love. The one thing he couldn’t buy, couldn’t sell, couldn’t trade. He rubbed at the hollow spot in his chest. The spot where his heart should be. The spot that should be filled with love for Kate. Instead, it only ached. Sometimes he resented her for the pain. If she’d just be sensible, they could both be happy. Instead, she had to demand the impossible.

After a meeting with the product development team, in which his attention was mostly turned inward on thoughts of Kate, he left the Domovoy building and wandered the city streets like a maudlin cliché. His meandering inadvertently took him to Oak Street. He stood on the corner, watching shoppers mill between high-end storefronts. The last time he’d been here, he’d been buying Kate whatever she wanted. The memory was an uncomfortable one—a happy moment inextricably tied to the distressing memory of her tears. He’d still never figured out why she’d been crying that day. Had she known, even then, that Mikhail couldn’t ever give her what she truly needed? Had that day been the beginning of the end?

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting a business call. Instead, it was an unrecognized number with a Wisconsin area code. Instead of dismissing it, something compelled him to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, comrade.” That raspy voice was familiar, but it took him a second to place it—Kate’s sister. He’d spoken to her a few nights ago.

“Ms. Pasternak,” he greeted her, his heart suddenly thundering. “How can I help you?”

“I think you know I’m about to help you.”

He paused, not daring to hope. “Are you?”

“Maybe. It depends on you, I guess.” The rumble of a man’s voice sounded in the background, and she hushed him impatiently. “Anyways, I’ve been thinking about the things you asked me, and the things my sister told me…” she trailed off teasingly.

“And?” Mikhail prompted impatiently.

“And I think you’re both dumber than a bag of hammers.”

“Alright. Yes. Thank you. This has been immensely helpful.” Mikhail pulled the phone away from his face, prepared to end the call, but Angel Pasternak’s shouted words couldn’t be ignored.

“You love her!”

He sighed. “What did she tell you?”

“That you’ve got a calculator where your heart should be. But, dude, you’re acting exactly like a man who’s sick in love.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“I don’t know how magnets work. Doesn’t mean they’re not real.”

That was, oddly, a decent point. Uncertain why he was confessing all this, but aware that he had nothing to lose at this point, he told her, “If I could love anyone, I would love your sister.”

“Man, you already do.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never done it before. If I loved her, I’d… I’d do love things.”

“What the fuck are ‘love things’?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem!” He realized belatedly that he was shouting on a street corner like a madman. Turning, he walked away from the hustle of the busy shopping district, back towards Domovoy’s offices.

“Okay, so. You want her with you all the time?”

“Yes,” he gritted out, deeply uncomfortable.

“And you want to take care of her, make sure she’s safe and happy?”

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