Page 22 of Tangled Roses
“You don’t need love for purpose. Make something of yourself. Rise to challenges and win all your battles. That is purpose. Nothing else is important.”
“I feel sorry for you.”
The sadness in her voice captivates me, but I don’t reply. She is entitled to her opinion and I don’t care what that is.
There are no more words spoken on the journey and as we turn into the sweeping drive through gates that announce we have arrived at Eglantine House, I shift my mind to the reason we are here.
We walk into the house hand in hand and as soon as we enter the huge formal reception room, Gabrielle tightens her hold.
“Mr. Romanov. Arman.” A portly gentleman approaches us, his hand wrapped around the waist of his escort for the evening, who regards us with open curiosity.
“Mr. Vanderwilliams.”
I offer him my hand and he says jovially, “Call me Joel. We are all on first-name terms here.”
“Joel.” I smile as I shake his hand and, as expected, he doesn’t bother to introduce his companion. His gaze lingers on mine though, and there is no mistaking where his attention now lies.
Gabrielle speaks up, “I’m Gabrielle, by the way.”
She smiles at his escort, who says nervously, “Iris, um, Mahoney.”
Joel turns to her and says loudly, “Fetch us a tray of champagne honey. Make yourself useful.”
Gabrielle’s grip is as powerful as the anger flashing in her eyes, and she says quickly, “I’ll help you.”
She tears her hand away and as she heads off with the escort, Joel leans in and says with a slight shake of his head. “It appears you have a spirited filly there. Nothing a good whipping wouldn’t cure.”
He roars with laughter and I physically ache to empty my revolver into his head, but I nod politely. “Of course.”
He calls across the room. “Michael, buddy. Come and meet Arman, Andrei’s son.”
The man who heads our way is a huge player in the stock market and one of the main ones here.
“It’s good to meet you, son.”
Rather than shake my hand, he slaps me on the back and I wish I was anywhere but here right now.
He turns to his companion and jerks his thumb to the door. “Go and freshen up. You have five minutes.”
She scurries off, and he lowers his voice.
“Now we’re alone, I’ll tell you how it is.”
Joel nods, the cruel glint in his eye revealing how ruthless these men are.
“We don’t know you or your brothers but we knew your father well, and he was a good man. We only do business with good men and so we need to work out if that man is you.”
“How can I prove my loyalty?”
There is no point in offering words right now. It’s obvious actions count louder than them and Joel interrupts.
“There is an oil refinery wrapped up in red tape and overrun with protesters. You make it all go away and you’re in.”
It’s obvious this was discussed beforehand by the members of the club and is my test of sorts.
Michael adds. “We are aware that the real power behind the Romanov throne lies with your brother. As his messenger, it falls on you to make it happen. If you can’t, we can no longer help you because dealing with the unknown isn’t good business. Do we make ourselves clear?”
“Crystal clear.”