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His mouth lifts slightly. But his gaze is hawklike, and he’s seeing how far he can push with his opinions.

I shift tactics. “Or Erin?”

“Erin? Ms. Banks is great. And Sasha’s a delight. At the risk of you shooting me in the face, and knowing you clearly made some kind of deal, I don’t like Sergio’s daughter. It’s like letting a viper into your nest.”

I consider his words. “She’s not her father.”

“But he raised her.”

This is why Ilya likes him. Pavel’s made of the same ilk. “Right now, I’m planning a wedding that I’ve no idea how to get out of cleanly. This is between us.”

“I would never have thought differently.”

“If anything comes to you, if you hear anything about Sergio or her, then let me know.”

“Of course, sir.” He starts to rise. “I could see if I can find her someone else.”

“Maybe. But this isn’t about love or want. It’s power and control. Even if there was someone else, her father wouldn’t allow it.” And, I suspect, Stefina thinks my life’s different to what it is.

Not sure why as I attend as few events as possible, and those I do? I’m doing deals or have other agendas.

The business is my life. Controlling and growing my power base is my blood.

Until the pretty, blonde Erin came back into my life, with my son.

Now they take up a great deal of that life, own a huge amount of that blood.

“I need to find a way out. Dirt… something to make this agreement null and void.” I stand and approach him.

“Got it, Boss. I’ll poke around discreetly. My side project, okay?” Then he pauses. “Until Ilya’s on his feet again.”

Oh, that would be a gift. “When that happens, you’ll be working it together. If we haven’t resolved it by then.”

As he leaves, I replay the conversation. The comment about how pretty she is sticks.

Fuck, was Pavel thinking of offering himself as tribute or sacrifice to marry her?

I’ve got a feeling it crossed his mind and that’s where the difference is between him and Ilya. Ilya never would havedone that because he knows it would lead to giving an in to Sergio.

Besides, Stefina wouldn’t do that.

Though the look of relief on his face when I told him I nixed the finding someone else had been borderline comical and I almost reach for the phone to tell Ilya.

Who can’t pick up.

The thought sobers me, and I check my watch. Time to go and deal with fucking Stefina.

Every fucking day she’s been here to plan this sham of a wedding neither of us wants. Or rather she wants for her father, but not because she has a single feeling for me. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.

Worse, perhaps, because I can’t rip apart feelings that don’t exist.

I open the door to the sitting room and she turns and smiles at me, bouncing up from her chair.

“Finally!” She holds up a thick book marked Wedding Ideas.

Fuck me to hell and back. I mutter some choice curses in Russian, which she clearly catches as a dark frown mars her overly made-up face.

“That better not have been for me, Demyan.”