Page 3 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

Roan laughs. “You’re in luck. I have the devil right here with me. My men were justquestioninghim.”

“Great. Put me on speaker,” I demand.

Roan flicks the call to speaker, and I hear the background noises of Anton being questioned rather intensely.

The man groans each time a fist thuds into his abdomen.

“I’ll get it back, I’ll sort it out, I swear,” Anton whimpers.

“Hold up, the boss wants to speak with him.”

Shuffling.

“Go ahead. He’s listening,” Roan confirms.

“Anton, what the fuck were you thinking? Trying to weasel out of something to clear your gambling debts? Or was this part of one of your shady side jobs? Actually, don’t bother answering that—I don’t fucking care to hear your long, bullshit stories today.”

“Boss, I swear, I can fix this. I can—" A loud thud as the air is knocked from his lungs.

“The boss said, shut up. Listen. You only speak if he asks you something,” Roan snarls.

“How exactly do you plan to fix this?” I ask, knowing that Anton doesn’t have a cent to his name. He squanders away every cent he makes, betting on horses, fights, slot machines—anything to give himself a little thrill. It never pays off. And if it does, he bets again and loses it anyway. I don’t really care abouthis gambling addition—not until it starts to impact my business, and this isn’t the first time his bullshit choices have done so.

“Ask Maliki. He’ll tell you. I’m good for my word,” Anton pleads, not answering my question.

“My uncle is not in charge anymore, Anton. And your word means shit to me.”

“I swear, if you give me a chance, a few hours, I can make it right.”

Laughing bitterly, I shake my head. “Roan, let him go. Give him two hours. Let’s see what this idiot can come up with.”

“Boss, he doesn’t have anything—"

“I know. But it’ll be entertaining. Cut him loose. But Anton, understand this: if you’re not in my office in two hours with a solution, you’re dead.”

“Thank you, thank you, boss. Thank you so much.”

I hang up the phone, already knowing Anton has nothing to offer. But the right thing to do is to give him a chance. Then, once he comes back with nothing, I will be justified in whatever it is I plan on doing.

He’s not smart enough to run. His friendship with my uncle, even though it hasn’t really been a friendship for years now, gives him enough of an ego to think he can talk his way out of things.

Well, in two hours, he’s going to learn that his time is up.

I stand looking out at the ocean again.

I guess I’m headed into the office today, after all.

I’ll arrange a driver for my sister to the airport and say goodbye now before I leave. We never make a big deal about her coming and going; she’ll be back on her next holiday.

***

My office is on the top floor of a building I own in town—one of the many pieces of real estate I own throughout the city.

I park in the underground lot beneath the building, but instead of taking the elevator, I walk out to the front of the building, onto the street, enjoying the sun on my face as I head towards the main entrance.

Roan is waiting for me in the lobby.

“Boss, Anton is on his way here now.”

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