Billionaire Flawed 2(61)

Pavel looked at her dress and wondered where she had bought it. Her breasts looked gorgeous, and he wanted to unpack them on the spot. You can only find out if I'm messing with you, by saying yes. If you say no, you will never find out. The moment I saw you, I couldn't take my eyes off you. The choice is yours.

Ella's head was spinning. Was she in a dream of some kind? Only a few days ago, she was an unemployed graduate, and now she was being chased by a Russian billionaire.



Ah, my dear Pavel. Sit down, I just have a bit of business to attend to, and I'll be right with you, Abram said as he held his hand over the phone.

His appearance had changed significantly in the years since Pavel had first met him, Pavel thought. He had always been a big guy, but now at the age of fifty-two, he was on the fat side of muscular. His hair had gone gray, and it had started to thin on top. He was now the kind of man, who went around with beads of sweat rolling from his forehead, a sure sign he was out of condition. Abram had a round face, and he was quite obviously Russian. Pavel, on the other hand, had much finer Slavic features and could be thought to come from a number of countries.

What do you mean you don't want to sell the apartment anymore? You told me when we last met that it was a formality, and the contract was on it's way, Abram barked down the phone. Pavel heard a man on the other end say something which made Abram explode into one of his rages.

You're what? Your daughters have decided they want to keep it? Well, tell you fucking daughters that they can't keep it. You told me I could buy it, so as far as I'm concerned, the deal's done. Now instruct your lawyers to make out the contract of sale or I'll come round with some of my guys, and we'll all rape your wife. Do you understand? Abram slammed the phone down and let out a roar of frustration. Americans, they can never make up their damn minds.

You wanted to see me, Abram? Pavel asked calmly.

Yes. I've got a job for you.

Pavel sighed. He thought Abram had understood. He plainly hadn't. I'm trying to get going on my own Abram. I know I owe you a lot. In fact everything, but you need to let me go now. No more jobs. Get someone else.

Pavel looked around the office as he waited for a reply. It was a typical Manhattan office, floor to ceiling windows, air conditioning and a view to die for. One thing that set it apart from most other executive offices, was the Russian flag hanging from the wall behind Abram's desk, and a set of swords mounted in racks on the wall behind the meeting area. Pavel remembered one occasion when Abram had held one of the swords to a vendors throat because he wouldn't agree to Abrams offer.

I know you have your own company now, but I have never found anyone as persuasive as you. Listen, an asshole promised me first refusal on a residential block, and now he's rejected my offer. I need you to go and persuade him it's not a wise choice.

And how exactly do you want me to do that? Pavel asked.

Now that's the dumbest question you have ever asked. Do it like you always did. Hang him from a high building, threaten to kill his kids or his wife, cut off a finger or kidnap his mother. I don't care.

I've changed. I'm running a legal outfit. I'm done with all that violence. I don't like it.

Listen to yourself. You sound so smug and righteous. How is your business doing? From what I've seen, you've missed out on a lot of purchases. Why? Because you've gone soft. Abram came from behind his desk and sat on the front edge. If you don't persuade people to take your offer and only yours, how do you expect to make money? The only way is to frighten the crap out of them until they give in, and take your offer, under the current market value.

Like I explained, Abram, I've had enough of those tactics. I'll take my chance in a fair market, Pavel said.

Just one more time Pavel, for old time’s sake. I need your help, Abram pulled a hangdog face in the hope it would play on Pavel's conscience.

Okay, but absolutely the last one.

Abram pulled his widest smile and slapped Pavel on the back. Now, we have to discuss the question of my daughter Ilona. What's the delay? She wants to marry you, I want you to marry her and Goddammit, even her mother wants you to marry her. So why are you dragging your heels?

Pavel didn't have the stomach to tell him that he wasn't in love with his daughter or indeed that he thought his daughter uncouth. When it came to Abram's daughter, he knew he had to tread very carefully. Abram had once whacked a guy to within an inch his life for refusing his daughters advances. Although these days Pavel could easily beat Abram if it came to it, Abram knew some very unsavory characters that Pavel did not wish to meet. Let me have a think about it. It's important to get the timing right, he said, instantly scolding himself for being too soft again.

Well get a move on, all this procrastination is giving me indigestion. You don't have to go home every evening and listen to two women bellyaching about a wedding.