Page 37 of Revenge

Viktor: Where are you?

Twenty minutes later, and still no answer. He’s hiding something big. The question is, what? Did my father make another decision affecting the future of the clan? More fights? I don’t like not knowing. It makes me feel out of control. I’m the boss and I need to know everything.

“Becky,” I call my PA.

“Mr. Manarch, how can I help?”

“Cancel the rest of my afternoon.” I exit the office.

Lately, I’ve been spending more time at Manarch Industries. If I can’t fully protect my clan, at least I’ll protect my future. But that is the least of my worries. Fiona is making my life miserable, and my father’s indifference is costing me a fortune. And now Oliver is keeping something from me.

My cell rings and the screen reads Mom.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart. It’s been some time since I’ve seen you.”

“I know. I’ve been busy.”

“Except we both know that’s not the reason. You’ve been avoiding me.” She knows me well. “Do you have time for a late lunch?”

“Always.” Maybe time with her is what I need, a distraction from everything, but it’s not true.

“Meet me at Treehouse Bistro. I should be there in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll see you soon,” I promise her.

I’ve been avoiding my mother. I try to stay away from anything that reminds me of Ava. But it’s a daunting task. It doesn’t matter how hard I try because everything reminds me of Ava. She consumes my every thought.

Pulling up to the restaurant, I don’t see many cars so hopefully, it will be quiet. This isn’t the kind of place I usually visit, but my mother likes it. Inside, I’m led to a table where she’s already waiting.

“Mom,” I greet her, giving her a hug.

“Sweetheart, thanks for coming.” We sit. “How are you? You look skinny. Are you not eating?”

“I’m fine.” I sit.

“Anything to drink?” a server asks.

“Scotch, neat.”

“Do you know what you would like to eat, sir?”

“Just the drink.”

“He’ll have the special,” Mom advises, fixing me with a steely glare.

“Very well.” The server leaves.

“I’m not in the mood to eat,” I tell my mother.

“Tough luck.” She smiles. “How are you doing?” She asks with a serious tone.

“Busy with work.”

“How’s Fiona and the baby?”

“Fine.” The server returns with my drink.

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