Page 75 of Ruthless Heir

I think Asher is going to pay the debt. It seemed like he was. If he wasn’t, I don’t think he would have asked for Vito’s details.

If I’m lucky enough and he pays I’ll do whatever I have to to pay it back, make it up to him then get out of his hair.

Like Josh, Asher is getting married. He doesn’t need me to wreck things for him.

I’m back at that place again where I’m forced to acknowledge that I have to sort out my life.

Hopefully Asher will still give me a chance to work for him. Once I have that under my belt I’ll be able to make a start on fixing things once and for all.

I curl up in the nest of pillows and watch night turn to day. It’s only then that I drift off to sleep but I’m woken up by a little tap on the door.

“Come in,” I call out in a groggy voice.

The door swings open slowly and Olga pokes her head in. I sit up, my head feeling like it’s going to fall off from the mind numbing worries.

She comes in carrying a tray. On it is a plate of cookies and a mug of what smells like coffee.

“I thought you could do with this,” she says with a polite smile.

Does she know what happened last night?

No. I don’t think so. I could imagine Olga being a nun or something like that before she worked for Asher. So if she knew, she wouldn’t be looking at me with such kind eyes.

Or maybe she does know. I should stop doing that judging thing. It’s funny how I thoughtshewas judgey when it’s me who’s judged her more than anyone else here.

“Thank you.” I take the tray and glance at the clock on the wall. It’s nine. “Is Asher still here?”

“Yes. He wants to see you when you’re up.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

“I’ll let him know.” Her smile becomes warmer. “Once you guys are done talking, I was thinking that perhaps we could go into the city together and catch the afternoon matinee at the opera house.”

Her request shocks me. “I would love that. I didn’t know you liked opera.”

“I guess I should have told you. In another life I was a prima ballerina for the Bolshoi ballet and my husband played violin in the orchestra.”

My mouth drops open. “Oh my God.”

She chuckles lightly. “Yes, most people have the same reaction when I tell them. My husband and I danced and played music for years. He was the music. The notes in every step I took. I became a teacher in Russia after years of performing on stage and then we had another decade of music and dance.”

“Olga, that’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, dear. I thought you might like hearing that little story of mine as much as I enjoy listening to you play your violin.”

“It is nice to hear more about your life in Russia. I didn’t know you listened to me practice.”

“All the time, dear. My husband died several years ago and I came to the states. Music was never the same for me after he passed. Then I heard you and you reminded me of how much I loved listening to the violin.”

My heart squeezes. I never thought Olga could fill me with so much inspiration. And at a time like this. “Thank you so much Olga. It means a lot to hear you say that. And I’m so sorry about your husband.”

“Thank you. We had a great life together.” She taps my shoulder. “Eat up, then go see Asher. He said you had a rough night.”

“I did.” My chest caves at the memory.

“Then let’s hope for a better day today.”

“That would be great.”

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