Maxim
I return to the penthouse with an emerald ring in my pocket with enough bling to be seen from the moon. It has tiny diamonds all around it and down the band, and I engraved it with our names. I hated seeing Igor’s ring on Sasha’s finger, the constant reminder of what a sham of a wedding we had. I hated the symbolism of it, too. Like she was really married to her father not me.
I open the door to the penthouse with a spring in my step, thinking I’ve finally done something right when it comes to her.
She’s not in the living room. Nikolai and Dima are there, arguing heatedly over the best way to segment and match data from the airlines.
“Where’s Sasha, in my room?”
Dima spares me a glance. “Da. She’s been in there for a while now.”
A niggling of foreboding comes over me. Maybe I s
