How the hell does he know about her? she thought. Then she realized that he had eyes and ears everywhere. “I don't know, Mr. Sokolov,” she said, trying to cover Andrey's back.
“What do you mean you don't know? Are you blind, deaf, or dumb, or all three?”
Mel knew she had to tell him now. He knew she'd been working then, and he probably knew that Andrey had taken Nicki upstairs. “She was a journalist. I don't know any more.”
He stood up and walked over to the bar. “Come here,” he said gently. Mel walked up to him on the other side. “Lean over. I want to tell you something in confidence.”
Mel leaned toward him and waited for him to whisper. He didn't. He grabbed her by the collar and pulled her over the bar. Her blouse tore, revealing her overflowing bra.
“Nice,” he muttered. “Now you tell me who she was and what she was doing here. Otherwise, I might just have to see a bit more of what you've got to offer.”
“Please, Mr. Sokolov, I'll tell you all I know.” He laughed when he noticed that she was shaking. “She came to the restaurant at about four o'clock. I heard her say to Andrey that she was a freelance journalist.” She hated doing this to Andrey; she liked him, but what choice did she have? “They seemed to get on well. They had a couple of drinks and something to eat.” She didn't want to tell him that they'd gone upstairs and the whole restaurant had heard them having sex.
“And? What else?”
“That's it, Mr. Sokolov. I don't know any more.” She cried out when he slapped her across the face.
“What else? I won't ask again.”
“They went upstairs together.” Mel burst into tears.
“Jesus Christ. What next? I thought I could trust him.” He tightened his grip on Mel's blouse. “Screwing a journalist is going too far, but screwing a black journalist in my restaurant is disrespectful and deceitful. Tell him I want a word with him as soon as he comes back.” Mel nodded and attempted to cover herself up.
*****
“Jesus, what the...” Lela exclaimed just as she was about to take the boiling kettle from the stove. She ran upstairs and banged on the bathroom door. “Nicki, what's the matter? Are you okay?”
Nicki didn't reply. She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with her head in her hands. If only she hadn't stopped taking the pill during her stay in Moscow. Nathan hadn't been with her, and she'd had no intention of sleeping with anyone casually, so she'd just stopped taking it. Andrey had worn a condom. Yes, he had. She remembered distinctly.
“Nicki, Nicki, let me in.” Lela was getting frantic. Nobody who screamed like that could be all right. She jumped back to one side as the door opened and Nicki ran past her. Inside the bathroom, Lela picked up the pregnancy test and read the text on the tiny display. Pregnant 2-3.
*****
Why the hell do you still work with him? Andrey asked himself as he drove up to Sokolov's mansion. You have enough cash to last you a lifetime. You're a fool to have anything to do with him. All because you love the Crab and Lobster. Buy it off him and then tell him to f-off.
“I hear you wanted to seek me, Maxim.” Sokolov's mansion was on the edge of Brighton Beach. It was just like one would expect a man of Sokolov's breeding to own: brash and full of gold.
“Andrey, come in and sit down.” Sokolov was sitting in his favorite chair next to the fire. It was another cold day, and under normal circumstances, the sight of the burning logs would have raised anyone's spirits. But Andrey wasn't in the mood for cozy fires. He hadn't liked what Sokolov had done to Mel. Mel was just a kid, and she didn't deserve the kind of treatment he'd afforded her.
“What did you do to Mel? The poor kid couldn't stop bubbling when I came back yesterday evening.”
“What did I do to Mel?” he retorted sarcastically. “It's your fault.”
Andrey looked around, trying to calm himself. It was a pretentious house. All the sofas in the large sitting room were gold, and the carpet was a different shade of gold. The wallpaper was gray with gold stripes, and all the pictures on the walls had gold frames.
“How is it my fault?”
“Andrey, how much money do you have in the bank?”
What the hell did that have to do with Mel? “About thirty million.”
“And how did you come by all that money?” Sokolov was being smug and coy, and Andrey hated him for it. Sure, he'd helped him a lot during the early days, but there was no need to keep reminding him.
“Real estate deals.”