Page 9 of One Last Shot

“Alex is prepared to make this endeavor worth your while,” Tom responds. “After he receives his citizenship, he’ll grant you a divorce with enough alimony that you’ll never need to work again.”

“Oh, he’llgrantme a divorce, will he?” Though her words are for Tom, her eyes are back on mine. Behind those blue irises, a Petra-level storm is brewing, and I’m almost looking forward to watching it break. Tom has no idea what he’s in for as she turns toward him. “Unfortunately for him, Ilikeworking. I love the company I’ve built and I’m proud of the work I do. And no man is going to walk into my life and act like he’s granting me some sort of salvation, when really what he needs is my blessing and my assistance.”

Tom sputters, clearly not expecting that reaction. A typical lawyer, he thinks everything can be solved with enough paperwork and money.

“How do I even know that marriage was legal?” she asks me. “I was a minor.”

“You were sixteen,” I tell her, “which is the age of consent for marriage in Austria, as long as a parent signs off on the union. Which your father did. And as long as the other party is over eighteen, which I was.”

As the realization that her own father betrayed her seeps in, the small crack in her armor shows me just how much this hurts her. “And so now you’re trying to buy me off? Use me to get what you want, then send me on my way with a divorce and money. How quintessentially Ivanov is that?” Her low, rumbling laugh is bitter.

“You’re right about my family.” That is exactly how my father handled problems—throw enough money at it and the problem goes away. “But that’s also not what I’m trying to do here.”

“Oh? Then what the actual hellareyou trying to do here?” The color rises in her cheeks, a flood of red-hot anger she can’t hide.

“I need US citizenship, and I’m willing to do whatever I have to do to get it.”

“Why the sudden need? You’ve legally been living and working in New York for ... how many years now?”

“Eight.”

I see a momentary flash of realization in her eyes. Eight years. When she lived in New York I was here too, which she didn’t know then, but I did. And I never contacted her.

“So why the change now?”

“Alex is about to retire,” Tom provides the lie we agreed on. “His P-1 Visa is dependent on him playing hockey, which he won’t be doing after the end of this season. That could be as early as this month, depending on how the playoffs go.”

Petra looks back and forth between us. “You’ve had eight years to apply for citizenship. Why didn’t you think to do this sooner?” Her eyes fly between me and Tom as she tries to figure this out. “I feel like there’s a missing part of this situation that you’re not sharing with me.”

“Let’s just talk about this like rational adults.” I know immediately that I’ve said the wrong thing. Why did I suggest she’s not being rational when I’m the one who sprung this on her?

“You ambush me in a lawyer’s office with news that we’re married, threaten me with divorce, and offer to buy me off with future alimony. You have a plan and paperwork, and you’ve consulted me on exactlynoneof this. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” There’s a note of sadness mixed in with the anger.

“I know this is a lot of information being thrown at you. I should have handled things differently—” I glance over at Tom quickly, hoping he receives myI told you this was the wrong way to go about thismessage loud and clear, before I turn back to Petra. “But please, let’s talk about this. Come over to my place tonight and we’ll sort this out.”

“You abandoned me fourteen years ago,” Petra says. “I can’t imagine why you think I’d help you now.”

“Just think about it this afternoon. I know you have more questions. Meet me tonight and I’ll answer them as best I can.” My voice shakes the slightest bit even while I try to maintain my composure. “I really need your help, Petra.”

“I need time to think about this,” Petra says, shaking her head.

“Alex, I’m not sure—” Tom warns, but I hold up one hand, stopping him from saying anything more.

I should have done this differently in the first place. I was a coward to have Tom be part of this conversation, and it’s backfired badly. I need to rebuild Petra’s trust in me, and it won’t happen through Tom.

“Just come over tonight,” I say, my eyes still locked on hers. “I’ll text you the details.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Tom crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, shaking his head.

“How do you have my number?” she asks.

“I got you here, didn’t I?”

“You’re unreal,” she spits out as she grabs her leather bag off the chair where she’d set it when she first came in, then spins and stalks out of the room.

“Sasha, huh?” Tom says the minute the door to his office slams.

“Of all the things that just happened, that’s what you lead with?” I shake my head, then lean forward and set my elbows on my knees so I can rest my forehead on the palms of my hands. I have a sudden tension headache.

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