Page 251 of Sweet Ruin

“Cut to it, then.”

“Very well. Here is what I am offering: My lawyers will go to court to void the guaranty and discharge the lien. I will pay for all of it. You will not see a bill. While the case runs, I will make certain that our mutual friend, Mr. Makov, cannot enforce against this property. There are ways to do that which are legal and there are ways which are not, and I will use whichever ones are required.

“And while the case runs, nothing happens to this building. I assure you your loading docks will stay quite intact, and no suppliers will get sudden and inexplicable cold feet.” He pauses, purses his lips, and looks up at me. “How does all that sound?”

He knows it sounds good.

No more Kane.

No more problems.

He’s giving me what I’ve wanted on a silver platter: one thing that’s mine, safe from a world that keeps trying again and again to rip it out of my arms.

But if there’s anything I’ve learned in the last weeks and months, it’s that silver platters are only ever offered by a devil with a knife in his other hand.

So I ask the obvious question.

“And what do you want in return?”

“The building.”

“Ah.” My heart sinks. “There it is.”

“After the lien is void and the deed is clean, you will agree to sell it to me at a very flattering price. You will walk away quite rich, Ms. Dorsey, and free to start over wherever you may choose.”

I come around the counter, but I still keep my distance from this small gray man who broke my curb and is now offering me the only way out I’ve had since December.

“You want me to help you win in a war against Kane,” I say.

“That is true,” he concedes. “Your good fortune is that you win when I do.”

“And Kane loses?”

“Kane Makov loses everything,” he says with a sudden burst of viciousness I never thought a man this frail would be capable of. “I thought you might enjoy that. He spent twenty years and I do not know how many millions assembling this territory. But it’s an all-or-nothing game. Without this lot, the developer walks. Without this lot, he holds a great deal of expensive dirt with a hole in the middle of it. And then he will have to sell, and I will be the one buying, because there will be nobody else.”

I look at the envelope on the table.

“Don’t you want that?” Osip leans in. “You’ve been a pawn in his game, Ms. Dorsey. He pushed and pulled and lied and teased. He seduced you mind, body, and soul based on falsehoods. Shouldn’t he pay for that?”

“How do I know you aren’t trying to do some of the same stuff?” I counter.

He lifts his knotted hands off the table an inch and sets them down again. “I want the same thing he wants. The difference between us is that I have come in through the front door and offered you something in return.”

“You came in through a locked door.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true.” He inclines his head. “I’ll admit the metaphor is imperfect.”

Oh, how did I come to valuing an honest crook over a beautiful liar? It was so easy to fall for everything Kane offered. This thing Osip is laying on the table isn’t pretty. It’s brutal, savage, cold, and efficient.

But at this point, I find myself yearning to say yes.

If I have something she wants, she takes it. That’s how my whole life has worked, and every single time, the taking came dressed up as something else. As practicality. As grace.

Your sister deserves it. I did it for you, Lilah.

This man at least has the balls to call this what it is.

Osip stands, slowly, one hand on the table. “Let this much be clear: I am not offering you a gift. I am offering you a transaction. You will be poorer in one way and better off in many others.”