2. Chapter Two #2
“I think this is the first time you’ve attended one of my games,” Mick says, shaking my hand with a firm grip.
His gaze flicks over my shoulder to Pavel and Anton, who stand like sentinels behind me.
“I could lie to myself and say you finally decided to let loose, but I know better. You’re here because of Raymond Rivers. ”
Mick’s laid-back demeanor contrasts sharply with his determination and intelligence, making him one of the most astute businessmen I’ve encountered.
Despite being competitors in the hotel industry, Mick has consistently extended a warm welcome and encouragement for my ambitions.
I sometimes wonder if our shared experiences as perceived foreigners, navigating the American Dream, fostered a sense of camaraderie between us.
“Nothing gets by you, Mick.”
I step further into the suite, already scanning for Raymond. On the drive here, I looked up a photo of him to ensure I’d recognize him and secure the elusive signature.
“Mr. Rivers,” I address him formally, hoping to appeal to his ego. From what I understand, Raymond Rivers is the type of man who values his sense of power and influence.
“Sergei!” Raymond exclaims, slamming his glass of whiskey onto the card table.
The sudden noise makes his date flinch. It’s clear this isn’t his first drink of the evening.
I do my best to hide my irritation at his informality.
Maintaining my composure, I remind myself of the purpose of my visit as I extend my hand.
Raymond wipes his mouth to clear the last traces of whiskey before taking my hand in a firm handshake.
My gaze shifts from our hands to his date. We exchange a knowing glance. I release Raymond and look back at the woman by his side. She’s undeniably beautiful—long, red velvet hair, piercing hazel eyes, and a maroon dress topped with a black blazer.
“Quite a looker, isn’t she?” Raymond remarks, catching me in my appraisal as he pulls her close, his hand resting possessively on her waist. The gesture reminds me of a dog marking its territory around a fire hydrant.
“You’re a difficult man to pin down,” I say, cutting straight to the point. “My people have been trying to reach you for a signature.”
“Ah, that,” Raymond dismisses with a wave. “I don’t like discussing business after hours.” He draws the woman even closer and plants a wet kiss on her cheek.
She smiles politely, but it lingers on her lips without reaching her eyes. “Raymond, I’m going to get another drink,” she coos, heading toward the bar.
“I’d prefer to handle this quickly so we can both return to our preferred activities,” I say, trying to maintain a professional tone.
“I’m not working right now,” Raymond replies sharply. He shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of the rising hostility ready to show its nasty face. “You can contact my office next week, and we’ll schedule a time.”
I force my fists to unclench. Realizing I’m fighting a lost cause, I check my watch, calculating the chances of seeing Misha tonight.
I’m not someone who lets others disrupt my day, but Raymond has already managed to be a thorn in my side for longer than I’d like.
His signature is the final piece needed to secure the permanent liquor license for my hotel.
Although we have a temporary license valid for the first few months, I don’t want to risk it expiring before the permanent one arrives.
“My assistant will reach out on Monday,” I finally say, turning to leave the table. Halfway to the door, my phone vibrates, so I veer toward the bar before answering it.
“Da?” I respond. It’s Svetlana, the latest nanny I hired.
“Mr. Chernov, I’m calling to inform you that Misha got hurt while jumping on the bed.
He’s fine now and finally sleeping,” she says.
The word “finally” drips with the implication that he dared to bother her, as if it wasn’t literally her job to watch him.
“But he’ll likely have a nasty bruise on his forehead. ”
“Where were you when this happened?” I ask louder than I intend. I glance around, hoping no one is paying attention, but Raymond’s date is watching me, unapologetically violating my privacy.
“I was in the room, and I told him multiple times to stop, but he wouldn’t listen,” Svetlana explains.
“You’re the adult,” I counter. “You make him listen.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone, Mr. Chernov. This is not the first child I’ve nannied. I was watching him perfectly fine, but with children like your son, things like this are bound to happen.”
My grip on the phone tightens. “Nadia will arrive soon to release you. Your services are no longer needed,” I say firmly, hanging up before she has a chance to respond. I send a message to Nadia, asking her to check on Misha.
Svetlana was the last nanny on the list of candidates I received from the agency. Now, I’ll have to figure out what to do next. I sigh in frustration and glance at my watch, focusing on the movement of the second hand to time my breathing.
With Misha now asleep, the urgency to return home fades, giving me a moment to collect myself. “One shot of vodka,” I signal to the bartender, placing a fifty-dollar bill on the counter.