Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
The rest of the flight passes in a blur. Eventually, the phone calls stop, and Ivan slumps in his seat. His exhaustion is palpable in the tense set of his shoulders, and the way his fingers tap restlessly against the armrest.
Then, before I know it, we’ve landed back in New York.
Chapter Forty-Seven
LARA
The next few days merge together in a haze of routine and uncertainty.
Ivan is always busy, constantly on the phone, lost in meetings, his attention divided between the chaos unfolding around his businesses and trying to find solutions. Yet, somehow, every evening, no matter how late, he makes it home for dinner. We don’t plan it, but it’s become our unspoken ritual. Muriel sets up the table as we are having a formal dinner, with gorgeous flower arrangements, candles, good chinaware, and antique linen. We sit across from each other, often in silence, but as the meal progresses, I see the weight of the day slowly melt away from his face.
He’s different now. Tired in ways I hadn’t seen before. He wears his strength like an armor, refusing to let it crack, but I can feel the strain beneath the surface. The lines on his face have deepened. His smiles, when they come, are fleeting. Even so, he reaches for me. Every night, he slides into bed, pulling me close, like I’m his last tether to something real, something grounding.
We fall into each other then. There’s heat, always, but it’s laced with something softer, something unspoken. In those moments, I feel like we’re drifting into our own world, separate from the chaos outside. I’ve started to count the days with dread. I would have laughed if someone had told me I wouldn’t be celebrating, but dreading the day my contract ends.
When he falls asleep, his body is warm and heavy against mine. I listen to his breath, steady and deep, and then at some ungodly hour he wakes up. A phone call, the London stock exchange is opening, or a Zoom call from Shanghai. There’s always something. I start to appreciate how hard Ivan works. That he earned the right to be proud of his success. His money is not inherited. Nikolai is fun and charming and he dances very well, but he lives an idle life of luxury on his father’s dime.
During the day, while he’s out, I lose myself in Muriel’s garden. It becomes my sanctuary—my escape. Both my apple and orange have started to root and bear shoots. It’s the most beautiful thing to see. The feel of the earth between my fingers, the scent of the flowers blooming under the sun, it’s grounding. I spend hours there, letting the simple act of tending to the plants bring me a sense of calm. I hope I can infuse the same calm when Ivan comes home.
Sometimes, I wonder if he’s thinking about me while he’s out, dealing with whatever new attack has come up against him. He never expected or planned for any of this to come down on him. At first, I felt somewhat bitter and robbed that it all kicked off during our time together, but now I’m glad. If I was not here he would have to go through this ordeal alone and I would never wish that on anyone let alone him.
Then one night he left the bed at two in the morning. I get up a few minutes later and follow him to his office. I find him sitting in front of six computer screens.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask from the door.
“Taking some scalps to pay the bills,” he says.
My eyes widen. “What?”
He leans back against his black leather chair. “Scalping is slang for when a trader goes into the marketplace, takes a trade and is out quickly, before the trade can turn against him.”
“I thought you couldn’t trade anymore. Your accounts at the exchanges were frozen.”
“An old friend from Cambridge set up an account in his name for me. I use a VPN to hide my location and I only scalp because I have studied Robert’s trading record and I adhere strictly to his risk appetite and loss rate. So no placing big trades that could raise red flags. The last thing I want to do is to get him in trouble.”
“Can I see what you’re doing?”
He smiles. “Sure. Come in and sit on my lap.”
I go and sit on his lap and watch quietly while he works.
“This is the Bitcoin chart. A very volatile asset. Fantastic for scalping,” he explains.
There are numbers blinking everywhere and his fingers move at lightning speed chasing a pulsating dot on a one-second screen. “Wow, how can you know the exact movement when it is about to change direction?”
“The market is like a woman,” he says. “To persuade her to dance with you have to learn how she moves and move with her. Then she will embrace you and give you riches you never dreamed of.”