The voice on the other end of the line carried a hint of offense:
— Of course, you’re free to doubt me, Igor Alexandrovich, that’s your prerogative… I only wanted to help. But if the life of your only daughter means nothing to you, feel free to ignore my words. I won’t take it personally… And—mark my words—I’m not asking for any reward for this crucial information!
His interlocutor sounded irritated:
— I’d rather you just asked for something upfront and got out of my sight—or rather, my ears! Because later, like in some old fairy tale, you’ll pop up at the worst possible moment and demand something I don’t even know I have in my own house!
— I’m sorry, but I don’t follow…
— And you don’t need to! Let’s be honest, Ed, no one would call you a scholar or a bookworm. Just spit it out—what’s going on with my daughter, and how much do you want for the info?
— Whatever you think is fair… Entirely up to you. And only after I’ve told you everything. I want you to know I’m being straight with you…
Virsky rolled his eyes heavenward. Ed, a lawyer by trade, had a knack for talking a lot while saying very little. As a businessman, Virsky firmly believed that time was the most valuable resource. Igor Alexandrovich never wasted a second. His daily planner was scheduled down to the minute. Right now, for instance, he was supposed to be meditating. Virsky took his health seriously and respected the teachings of ancient sages. Surely, they knew a thing or two about living long and happy lives. And that required more than just physical wellness (gym sessions, yoga, swimming, massages—all meticulously penciled into his planner). Mental harmony, damn it all, was just as critical. Yet here he was, instead of sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, letting his thoughts drift and focusing on slow, steady breaths, listening to some nonsense from his company’s representative in London.
— Make it quick, please, — Virsky barked, no longer able to hide his frustration.
— Alright, alright, as you wish, Igor Alexandrovich… There’s a serious issue with your daughter. She’s seeing someone…
— And that’s it? Ed, you’re acting like you’ve discovered the New World! As far as I can remember, she’s gone through so many boyfriends I’ve lost count! One more, one less, doesn’t matter—he’ll bore her soon enough!
— Maybe so, Igor Alexandrovich, maybe so… But this time, she’s involved with a married man!
Virsky shrugged, as if the person on the other end could see him:
— And what do you expect me to do? Fly over and lecture her on the evils of breaking up a family? Let’s just say she’s had a fine role model in her stepmother. So, I’m hardly the one to teach a grown woman right from wrong. Let her sort out her mess with this married lover on her own!
Silence suddenly fell on the other end of the line, and Virsky thought for a moment that the connection had dropped.
— Ed, damn it, why aren’t you saying anything?
There was a crackle in the receiver, and then Ed’s voice came through again:
— The thing is, his wife isn’t from just any family… Eva Igorevna could be in deep trouble if that lady finds out!
— Ed, you’re surprising me! You’re talking as if my daughter is some poor Cinderella from the middle of nowhere! Eva, in case you’ve forgotten, isn’t exactly from humble stock herself!
— No, no, I didn’t mean to offend, not at all! But this is an exceptional case… That lady—I won’t name her—is the daughter of a local mob boss. A very powerful mob boss! And she’s got a temper—she shoots first and asks questions later!
Virsky let out a heavy sigh, casting a wistful glance at his daily planner. Everything was going to hell in a handbasket. As it often had over the past seven years, ever since he divorced Eva’s mother and married his young secretary, Violetta. From that moment on, Eva seemed to have gone completely off the rails.
After her latest stunt—participating in a provocative performance by a controversial artist and ending up in the tabloids, stark naked and covered head to toe in bizarre painted patterns—her father had sent her to study at a prestigious English university and breathed a sigh of relief.
Maybe she was still up to no good over there, but at least he didn’t have to see it. And the paparazzi in foggy Albion didn’t hound her in droves like they did back home in Ukraine.
He’d even started to relax, thinking he’d finally achieved some semblance of zen… And then, this!
Eva had gotten herself tangled in some murky business with a mobster—straight out of a soap opera!
No, his patience had officially run out!
— Ed, — he said into the receiver, his voice quiet and almost gentle. — Ed, I’m flying in tomorrow. Book me a hotel, please… Yes, of course, the presidential suite…
Outside the window, the first snowflakes swirled lazily, melting the moment they touched the ground. The weather in Kyiv this year was no different from London’s, he thought melancholically. Smog and fog, gloom and gossip…
What difference did it make where that blasted girl got on his nerves?