Page 82 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

“But can you buy the things you’ll need to be Pakhan?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“A generous one. Call me Mr. Virtuous?—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Murphy?” the receptionist says, stepping into the waiting room in the exclusive law offices. “Mr. Launceston will see you now.”

We get up and I hold out my hand to Ava, just to fuck with her, but she takes it, holding it a little too tight to vibe with the “fuck you” attitude she’s giving off.

And I like the tight grip. I don’t know why.

The offices are nice, polished and professional, perfect for a respected lawyer, one who probably does mostly aboveboard shit. But I’m sure he knows who and what Volkov Shipping really is.

Everyone plays games, and from how James Launceston holds the discussions, he seems to want to buy into it. So I play along, as does Ava.

“In conclusion, I’ve let the acting president of Volkov know you’re ready to start the transfer of power. They do want to make sure you’re meeting your father’s stipulations, Ava.” His gaze flickers to me as he runs a hand along the edge of the mahogany desk. “We sent them the relevant papers and the portion of the will pertinent to this. As long as your marriage remains solid, you live under the same roof, and appear as a couple. No affairs or the like.”

The color rises in his face and I sit back, amused.

“Ava’s not about to look at another man.”

“I might,” she snaps.

“And he’ll be dead in seconds flat,” I say, winking at the lawyer who isn’t sure what to do or say. “I’m not going to step out, either.”

“If you try, I’ll castrate you.”

“See? Too much fun at home to think of anyone else,” I say, picking up her hand and kissing her palm, the memory of her caring for my hands in the bar suddenly leaping into my head.

But then I drop the humor. “Ava’s anxious about her legacy. It’s been denied her by a lot of misogynistic bullshit, so as soon as we can get in there to have a look around, to see what needs to be done, we will. She is, after all, the main shareholder.”

“You both are. Come the end of the twelve months, everything is yours. Both of yours, and any real changes can be done, but?—”

“It is hers now, no?”

“It’s not that simple,” he says to me, like she isn’t there, and my temper starts to bubble.

Jesus, the man talks in circles. It’s hers, but there are steps to take, and he goes on and on. But the main takeaway is it’s hers to run the moment the man who’s the interim Pakhan decides that she’s married and he can’t stall any longer.

It could take the whole fucking year.

He’ll try to stall as long as he can.

But I’m not about to let that happen. The sooner it’s in safe hands—ours—the better. I don’t say this, though. I just listen until he says something that snags my real interest.

“What was that?”

The man takes off his wire-rimmed glasses and rubs his temple. “Look. Real talk. The man in charge wants to find a full-blood Russian relative. He thinks that’s what her father wanted. But I drew up the documents that name Ava in charge.”

Ava turns to me but I squeeze her fingers.

“Volkov is hers,” he says. “And she can name anyone she wants to stand in her place. There are important papers that say this and more, and they list the hidden smuggling routes that are hidden even from those running the place, routes only Alex knew along with very private, very select clients.”

“Surely if that’s true, then those clients would have said something to the people in charge of Volkov.” Ava laces her fingers with mine and a little tingle runs through me.

It’s… nice.

I lift an eyebrow at the lawyer. “Not if they only operate when needed, or if they are always open and there are payments made to a different account while they’re in use.”