16
IVAN
I spot Marcus St. Clair the moment we walk into the cafe.
He chose an upscale spot downtown wedged between corporate office buildings. People in suits and ties charge through revolving doors and bark loudly into cell phones.
But Marcus is sitting in the empty restaurant with his hands folded politely on the table in front of him. His green eyes—the exact same shade as his daughter’s—study us as we arrive.
He stands up to greet us, radiating suspicion. “Hi,” he says, hand extended. “Marcus St. Clair. Nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand firmly. “Ivan Pushkin.” I watch carefully, but I don’t register any recognition of my name in his eyes.
“And I’m Yasha. I arranged the meeting.”
Marcus nods at my second and gestures towards the table. The moment we sit down, he leans forward. “So, are you lawyers for Alexander McAllister?”
I look at Yasha. “I thought you spoke on the phone.”
“We did,” Yasha says softly.
“And what did you talk about?”
“You want to meet concerning my daughter, Cordelia,” Marcus says. There’s a bite to his voice. He doesn’t like being talked around. Yet another trait he shares with his daughter. “In my experience, that usually means Alexander has something to do with it. I haven’t spoken to Cordelia in… well, it’s been a long time.”
Marcus says it matter-of-factly. No sense of shame or disappointment. Just a truth he’s acknowledging: he hasn’t played a role in his daughter’s life.
And he doesn’t seem to care.
But he really fucking should.
“If you haven’t spoken to your daughter, when was the last time you spoke to Alexander?”
“Even longer,” he says with a scowl. “Alexander likes to send in other people to do his dirty work. People like you.”
Yasha sits taller, locked and loaded to inform Marcus exactly how wrong he is. But I subtly wave him off.
“What kind of effort have you made to see your daughter?”
Marcus scoffs. He crosses his arms over his chest and I can tell exactly how well made his shirt is. It’s tailored for him and the cotton is thick. Proof enough that he’s doing well for himself. Just like Cora said, her father had more than enough money to take care of her and her mom.
But he didn’t.
Because of that, Cora ended up in the hands of Alexander. Her entire life was derailed. As glad as I am that it brought her to me, it also stole her from me. This man should have protected her, but he abandoned her.
I want to know why.
“Cordelia hasn’t missed me.” There’s anger in Marcus’s voice, but I get the feeling that there’s more happening here that I don’t understand yet.
“You think your daughter doesn’t want to know you.”
“I think no one has made any effort to include me, so I haven’t made an effort to be included,” he spits. “I thought maybe, once Cordelia was an adult, she would reach out and we could—well, it doesn’t matter. She didn’t. I assume she’s doing fine and I leave it at that.”
Marcus twines his fingers together, his jaw working back and forth.
I get it now: there was no shame in his voice a moment ago because he’s livid. Whatever this man has been through, he is pissed that he doesn’t get to know his daughter.
Now, that I can work with.
“If that’s what you think, then I’m glad you agreed to sit down with us,” I say. “Your daughter is not doing well, Marcus. She’s not doing well at all.”
His brow lowers. He looks from me to Yasha, suddenly tense. “What are you talking about?”
“We don’t work for Alexander,” Yasha explains. “I told you that we wanted to talk to you regarding Cora and Alexander, but—”
“Cora?” He frowns. “Who is that?”
“Your daughter,” I explain. “She changed her name after she ran away from Alexander the first time.”
“I didn’t know she—Hold on. The first time? She ran away more than once?” He blinks, processing. Then his eyes go wide. “Is she alive?”
“She’s alive,” I reassure him. “And she ran away once before, but I’m hoping she’ll do it again. Because as of now, Alexander has her back.”
Marcus leans forward. His nostrils flare as anger burbles out of him. “What has he done?”
Oh, yeah. I can definitely work with this.
“Cora is set to be married off to a psychopath in the criminal underworld against her will,” I tell him coolly. “It’s why she ran away the first time. Alexander is using her to form alliances for his own benefit.”
“That isn’t—for God’s fucking sake, that isn’t legal! That can’t be—Why didn’t she come to me?” It seems more like a question he’s asking himself than one he expects an answer to.
“Because you abandoned her and her mother.”
Marcus turns on me, eyes narrowed as he hisses, “I never abandoned her. Ever. Evaline ran around behind my back and hooked up with Alexander. I was willing to make things work for Cordelia’s sake, but Evaline divorced me. Then she took my daughter and ran.”
“Cora thinks you hung them out to dry.”
He chuckles darkly. “Yeah. Evaline and Alexander made sure to paint that picture of me. But he’s the one who abandoned them. He told Evaline that he’d never speak to her again if she didn’t pack up Cordelia and leave me. So she did. But Alexander didn’t give her anywhere to go.”
Cora told me about the months she and her mom spent on the streets. How desperate they were to find shelter and food.
I frown. “Cora thinks that Evaline met Alexander later on. After they were already homeless. She told me that they met and then he took them in.”
Marcus shakes his head. “No. Alexander wanted her dependent on him. He wanted to make sure she burned every other bridge in her life before he finally let her move into his house. She chose living in the fucking gutter over being with me. She stole my family away in the dead of the goddamn night.” He blows out a breath.
“Why would Evaline do that to her daughter? Things must have bad between you for her to—”
“They weren’t,” he bites out. “We weren’t always the happiest, but I took care of her. And Cordelia, too. She left because Alexander is a snake who knows how to prey on weak people.”
“Did you try to get them back?”
“I fought for custody. I tried, anyway.” He shakes his head, a shadow falling over his face as the memories roll back. “Alexander has friends in high places. When I tried to take them to court, men showed up at my house with documents saying that I gave up my rights to Cordelia. I never signed them, but it was my signature forged right there at the bottom of the papers. And if I tried to fight it, I knew how I’d end up. The threats were vague, but they were clear enough.”
I know Alexander is a political fixer, but it sounds like he had a lot of power even a decade ago. How much more powerful is he now?
“What have you been doing since the last time you spoke to her? Haven’t you wondered what is going on in her life?”
He drags a hand over the back of his head, ruffling hair the same shade of chestnut as his daughter’s. “Of course I did. But I didn’t feel like I had an option to know anything about her. So I tried to move on. I got remarried. I lived the best life I could and hoped, since I couldn’t look for Cordelia, that she would look for me.”
I can’t think of a single threat that would ever keep me away from Cora. There is nothing anyone could say or do to make me stop chasing her. To make me let her go.
As if he can read my mind, Marcus leans forward. His eyes—Cora’s eyes—bore into mine. “If I’d had any idea what Alexander had planned for Cordelia, I never would have stopped fighting. I truly thought she was happy there.”
Marcus isn’t perfect, but he cares. On some level, he cares about Cora and what happens to her.
Right now, that’s good enough for me.
“Cora is not happy there, which is why I need to get to her. Now.”
Marcus nods. “Absolutely. If there’s anything I can do, then I’ll—”
“Tell me everything you know about Alexander McAllister.”
He pauses and sighs. Then he starts to talk.
* * *
As it turns out, Marcus has less information than I hoped. He scribbles Alexander’s address down on a napkin as well as a few other businesses that are connected to him—lawyers and accountant’s offices, mostly.
But it’s a start.
Though, as he starts to slide the napkins towards me, he stops. “Just one thing. A favor.”
I eye the napkin. “Ask.”
“When you find Cordelia, I want to meet with her.” He lowers his gaze to the table. Finally, a sign of the shame I wanted to see before. “I want to apologize to her. I should have fought harder. I should have—ah, fuck, let’s just leave it at. There’s a lot I want to say to her.’”
“I won’t make you any promises.”
Marcus frowns. “But she is my—”
“She’s her own woman,” I interrupt, my voice sharp. “It will be her choice if she meets with you or not. But I’ll pass the message along.”
He sighs, but nods slowly. “That’s fair. I only want to see her if she wants to see me, too. I don’t want to be like Alexander.”
“Nobody does,” Yasha mutters.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Marcus slides the napkin over, meeting my eyes. “Give him hell.”
As we leave the cafe, the napkin tucked in my back pocket, I feel something I haven’t felt in days.
Hope.