Page 46 of Unveiled

"Yes, I'm interested in the location, but running a business that's thriving versus one that is barely scraping by is definitely going to be in both of our best interests. My cousin Matvei will help since this is his wheelhouse.”

I frown. I don’t know Matvei.

I purse my lips and glare at him because how dare he insult me like that?

"You look upset.” His brow furrows. "Are you upset? Why?"

He's as methodical with his human interactions as he is with his coffee making.

Jesus. Of course, I've known this about him forever.

"That's my business. My mother began that. And you're insulting me."

"What did I say that's insulting?" he asks, completely oblivious.

"You're mocking how the business is failing."

"I'm mocking nothing. I stated a fact, Anya. Save your pity party for when it actually matters. Right now, I'm going to come in and save your family's bakery. Do you want that or not?"

No, I don't fucking want it, not if it means that I'm beholden to him, but I don't say that.

"It's still my bakery."

Stefan glares at Semyon. "It’s still our bakery,” he echoes.

Uh-oh. My heart thumps.

Semyon turns his cold gaze to my brother, who doesn’t flinch but squirms a bit.

"Excellent.” He leans back in his chair, his cold blue eyes sharp. “Then why don’t you tell me which item at the bakery is most profitable? What’s the return on investment on your basic line of products? The estimated overheadcosts—labor, ingredients? Are you profitable or running at a deficit? Have you seen linear growth?”

Stefan freezes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. He looks as if Semyon is speaking a foreign language because, of course, he is.

“Running a business isn’t about guesswork. It’s about control. Precision. Without that, you’re gambling with your livelihood.” I cross my arms on my chest as Semyon rises to his feet. He looks down at the board, lifts his checker, and, in one final move, sweeps the rest of Stefan's checkers into his palm.

"Next time, pay attention," he says as Stefan’s face falls. “Put the pieces away, please,” he says quietly. “After you take your dishes to the sink.”

I feel a slight rise in my eyebrows because I never make Stefan put dishes in the sink, clean up his toys, or do anything but his homework. I stare at Stefan.

Have I been babying my little brother?

Stefan stands, takes his plate over to the dishwasher, and half tosses his dish in.

Uh-oh.

I watch as Semyon folds his arms across his chest. A part of me wishes he would stay like this, half-human in his rumpled clothing, but I know as soon as he shaves and puts on his suit, he’ll be back to cold and calculating.

“Try that again,” he says in a low, stern voice. “Come here, I’ll show you how.”

Stefan stares and looks at me. I shrug and gesture toward the dishwasher.

Stefan tries again, and Semyon deems it acceptable, but as my brother tries to leave, Semyon catches him. “Not yet. Didn’t I ask you to put that game away?”

I watch as Stefan gets that look in his eyes that I am all too familiar with.

Is he going to push back?

I watch as he tosses the checkers into the box. Semyon’s lips twitch. “You can do better than that, but I’ll let it go for now because you need to go to your room and do what I said.”

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