Olena shook her head slowly, contempt mixing with disbelief. “You didn’t come here out of love for your ‘precious daughter.’ You want the company. You want my shares. You can do nothing without my permission.”

“I can do many things without your permission, daughter.”

Olena looked to Marcus. “Every legitimate part of my family’s fortune came from my mother’s family. When she died, Vasel Davydenko had surprise waiting. Her assets all came to me. As long as I’m alive, he’s locked out of the board. Unless I say otherwise. If I die”—she grinned and turned a withering look back on her father—“he doesn’t know what might happen then. I may just give everything away in my will.”

Marcus tried not to looked too stupefied by the casual mention of “my family’s fortune.” One of these days, he really needed to figure out who and what this girl was.

Vasel pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and began to calmly clean the spittle from his suit. He glanced at Marcus, and then seemed to notice the growing assortment of jokers gathering around them. “That’s enough talking like this. Get in the helicopter. I’ll explain everything to you. Before long, you will love your father again.” Vasel gestured to the big guy. “Andrii.” He moved toward Olena.

Marcus, who had watched the interaction dumbly, surged forward. Andrii rolled his massive shoulders threateningly, but it was a small motion from Vasel that seemed to terrify Olena. She threw herself between him and Vasel, who hadn’t done anything more than pluck his coin between two fingers as if he was about to throw it. “No! Don’t kill him! If you kill him, you kill me.”

Vasel studied her, amused. He motioned for the bodyguard to withdraw. “You must be joking with me. What is this black snake-man to you?”

Olena looked into Marcus’s eyes when she answered. “He is my lover.”

The gangster’s one-word response was in Ukrainian, but it hardly needed translation.

Michelle let herself into the apartment. She’d gotten a late start in the morning, and by the time she’d dealt with all the Committee bullshit in the afternoon, traffic was turning into a bitch. She’d stopped and bought a pizza from Bruno’s for an early supper. It may not have been a healthy dinner, but it was Adesina’s favorite meal.

Mrs. Klein and Adesina were on the sofa watching TV. They both smiled at her.

“You got pizza for dinner,” Adesina said, but her voice lacked its usual pizza enthusiasm. She was huddled down into her blue blanket, her wings folded tight across her back.

“Get enough for all of us?” Mrs. Klein asked as she stood up. “You went to Bruno’s. They have great pies. And I see you got a large.”

Michelle put the pizza on the dining-room table, then went and sat down next to Adesina.

“You feeling any better, pumpkin?” she asked. There were circles under Adesina’s eyes and she looked exhausted.