Page 92 of Sapphire Tears

39

KOLYA

“Kolya!” Luke crows, leaping to his feet the moment he sees me.

“Sorry, sir,” stammers the pallid little receptionist I’d stormed past to get here. “H-he didn’t wait for me to check with you. He just barged in.”

“It’s okay, Simone,” Luke laughs, straightening out the obnoxious red tie he’s wearing. “This is my future son-in-law. He’s welcome anytime.”

His enthusiasm certainly suggests that he thinks I’m here to make peace and donate to his foolhardy ambition. I decide not to correct that assumption right away.

“Luke,” I say, shaking his hand. “You look well.”

“As do you! Please,” he says, gesturing to the black leather chairs in front of his desk, “take a seat.”

I sit down. Luke remains on his feet long enough to pull out a crystal tumbler of gin. “Can I offer you a glass?” he asks.

There are a few subtle changes about him, but I notice all of it right away. The suit is Armani. The shoes are handmade Italian. Even the crystal tumbler boasts of excess. Of wealth. Power.

Of connections he has no business making.

“I’ll never say no to a drink, Luke.”

Luke pours us both a hearty splash of gin and passes me a glass. Only then does he sit back down. His chair is decidedly bigger than the two in front of his desk. A leather throne, by the looks of it. I’ll bet he made that decision without the slightest bit of self-awareness.

He takes a sip of his gin and then looks at me pointedly. It’s clear he’s waiting for something—an apology, perhaps. But if that really is what he’s expecting, then it’s clear he can’t read the room.

Or the man sitting across from him.

“How’s Bridget?” I ask pleasantly.

“Busy as a bee,” he chuckles. “The campaign is taking off like wildfire. We’re getting a huge response from the public.”

I glance over my shoulder at the expansive office space that Luke has moved his campaign into. On the other side of the glass wall of his office, dozens and dozens of workers sprint in every direction, yelling on the phone and waving reams of paper in the air, each of them bearing Luke’s smiling face on a background of red, white, and blue.

“I see that,” I remark. “Busy. Exciting. Expensive, too, I bet.”

He doesn’t miss my implication. His smile falters, but he manages to keep it in place, albeit with some difficulty. He’s really gonna have to work on that if he hopes to hold office in this state.

“I have several major donors,” he says. “Once people heard my message, it was tough to ignore.”

I eye the crystal tumbler of gin and Luke immediately starts squirming in his seat. That’s the giveaway. Poor bastard went right for it the moment I entered, like he wanted to incriminate himself before I had to do it for him.

“Interesting that you would have so many devoted supporters in such early days. In fact, it seems almost as though the support came before you even started the campaign.”

He’s starting to sweat a little. He tugs at his collar like it’s itching him. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply, Kolya.”

I lean forward and rest my elbows on his desk. “Forgive me; I’m clearly being too subtle. So let me speak plainly. You sold your soul to the devil, and you’re too stupid to see what a huge fucking mistake that was.”

His eyes bulge in their sockets. It’s funny how little it takes to rattle an arrogant man. Poke at their castle of cards and it all comes crumbling down in an instant.

He looks frantically around the room as though he’s suddenly afraid something’s going to jump out at him. “I-I… don’t know what you m-mean…”

“Lying will take some practice for you, it seems.”

He tugs at his collar again. His hand trembles. “Kolya, you’re going to marry my daughter. It’s important that we get along.”

I shrug. “I happen to disagree. I don’t give two shits about getting along with you. But I do want to make sure you get along with your daughter.”

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