He picked up an expensive-looking pen and made a mark on a sheet of paper. ‘Emily, I have a full schedule.’
‘Too full to spend ten minutes with me?’
‘Yes. Please leave.’ He picked up a folder and opened it.
Legs shaking, she stood.
He really was dismissing her. After everything they’d been through, he was dismissing her as if she were nothing but a lowly employee.
Something inside of her went ping, a rush of fury that fired out of her fingers and had her leaning over his desk to wrench the folder from his grasp and toss it in the air.
As it fell to the floor, dozens of pieces of paper fell from it, floating and landing around her.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’ he snarled, his face contorting.
‘I had to do something to get your attention. You’re acting as if I’m nothing to you, as if I’m some stranger who’s parked herself in your office. You won’t even look at me!’
‘That’s because looking at you...’ Whatever he was going to say, he cut himself off, punching his desk with a roar.
Shock at his response rendered her mute. All she could do was stare at the man she loved and watch the unprecedented fury flow from him like a torrent.
Something was badly wrong.
‘Why are you still here?’ He got to his feet. ‘I told you to leave.’
‘What is wrong with you? Did something go wrong with the Plushenko deal?’
It was the mention of the word ‘Plushenko’ that sent Pascha’s fury erupting through his skin.
Because of Emily, he’d finally understood that family meant more than pride.
Because of Emily, he’d gone to his brother with the truth, believing that this time things could be different.
He’d lost it all. Any hope of redemption and forgiveness was gone.
He’d laid everything on the line, revealed that he was the face behind RG Holdings. Revealed his need to make amends for their father’s memory. When he’d finished his speech, he’d extended a hand. ‘So what do you say?’ he’d said. ‘Are you prepared to draw a line under the past?’
Marat had stared at his hand before his thin lips had formed into a sneer. He’d pushed his chair back and got to his feet. ‘I told you two years ago that I wouldn’t sell the business to you. I would rather it went to the dogs than fall into your hands.’
How had he ever allowed himself to think that this time things might be different?
There had been no point in prolonging the meeting. He knew Marat, knew the entrenched look in his eyes. Pascha’s reasoning had been disregarded. To try any more would have been akin to trying to reason with a toddler. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way. I wish you luck in finding another investor.’
He hadn’t reached the door when Marat had pounced, pinning him to the wall. ‘You,’ he’d spat. ‘It was always about you. No money for anything, not even the basics, because it all went on keeping you alive, the cuckoo in the nest who didn’t belong there.’ He’d abruptly let go and stepped back, throwing his hands in the air. ‘And look at you now—rich and handsome. All that chemotherapy didn’t even stunt your growth. You got everything.’ His eyes had glittered with malice. ‘But you didn’t get Plushenko’s. And you never will.’
Pascha had held onto his temper by the skin of his teeth. He was almost a foot taller than his adopted brother and, with around ninety-five per cent more muscle mass, all it would have taken was one punch to floor him and curb his cruel mouth.
Instead, he’d straightened his tie, dusted his arms down and said, ‘It was never about Plushenko’s. It was about family. Goodbye, Marat.’ He’d left the office, striding past the waiting room where the lawyers were holed up, through the foyer and out into the cold St. Petersburg air.
He felt it now, as raw as if he were still in that conference room with his brother.
‘The Plushenko deal is dead. It’s over.’
Ignoring the ashen pallor of Emily’s skin, he kicked his chair back and stormed over to stand before her. ‘Plushenko’s was built from my father’s sweat and my mother’s tears and now it’s gone. Marat’s hell-bent on destroying our father’s legacy and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.’
‘You told him the truth?’ she asked, her voice a choked whisper.
‘Yes, I told him the truth. He threw my offer back in my face.’
Marat hadn’t wanted anything to do with the cuckoo in the nest.
Why had he ever been foolish enough to believe otherwise?
‘You wonder why I can’t bear to look at you? You have everything—a family who loves you. You made me believe I could have that too. You gave me hope that Marat would accept me. You made it sound so easy. It was all a lie, a big, damnable lie, and every time I look at your face all I see is what could have been!’