Chapter 25

Dalia

" I ’m not sure about this."

We pause just outside the store, the gleaming display windows inviting, but daunting. I turn to Lev, the uncertainty clear in my voice.

He gives me a knowing smile. "I understand why you’re nervous," he reassures me, "but trust me, when it's over, you'll be glad you did it."

Despite my reservations, something about his assurance makes me feel like I can indeed trust him.

"I've also arranged a private viewing of the latest from Claude’s collection—some very rare pieces."

"OK," I reply, drawing a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Just… you’re not going to kill him, are you?”

He laughs. “Not part of the plan. What I have in mind is a little more subtle than that.”

He holds the door open for me and together we step inside. The interior of the store is every bit as fancy as I remember, with luxurious displays of expensive jewelry that sparkle under the sophisticated lighting.

As I admire the pieces around us, I lean closer to Lev and whisper, "While Claude did steal some of my designs, it's not as though he doesn't have talent of his own."

As I wander through the aisles of glittering jewelry, my eyes are drawn to a particularly stunning diamond engagement ring.

It's a breathtaking piece, with a large, brilliant-cut diamond set in a delicate platinum band, encrusted with smaller pave diamonds that catch the light with every subtle movement.

The sight of the ring stirs something within me. Lev had mentioned that he was planning to propose, but for some reason he hasn't yet.

Lev, noticing my lingering gaze, comes over and asks softly, "Is there anything that's caught your eye?"

I shake my head. "No," but the quick, knowing glance he gives me suggests he saw me staring at the ring.

As I take in all the glittering pieces, my stomach drops. Across the room sits a display that's unmistakably familiar. My steps quicken as I head over, heart pounding. Laid out before me are my designs, my creations, showcased as if they belong to someone else and priced like treasures.

Lev comes over, his brow furrowed as he looks at the display.

"Are these yours?" he asks.

"They sure are. And look at the price tags. Claude always brushed them off, said they weren’t worth much." I can’t hide the bitterness in my voice.

Lev’s jaw clenches as he takes it all in, his displeasure evident.

Before we can hash it out further, a voice calls out, overly cheerful and way too familiar.

"Welcome!" Claude says from the back of the store. "You must be my private customers. Can I get you anything to drink?"

We turn around to see Claude approaching, all smiles and hospitality. But the moment his eyes land on me, his smile falters and he gasps. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting to see me again, especially not like this.

Claude Pascal stands there, a picture of fashionable distress. He’s trim, his hair perfectly styled, and his clothes scream designer chic—a look you might see on a celebrity at a New York fashion show. His mannerisms and sharp attire give him an air of theatrical flair, reminiscent of those charismatic characters who own every room they enter.

His shock at seeing me is quite something.

"Dalia! What the hell are you doing here?" he sputters, his voice rising in panic. He takes his phone from his pocket as if to call security, but before his hand can even lift it, the front door swings open again.

Vanya enters confidently, swinging his cane, followed by three of Lev’s men. They're calm and collected, an intimidating presence.

Vanya addresses the store staff with authority. "You’re in no danger, but we will need you to stay in the breakroom for the duration of this showing."

The staff, picking up on the seriousness of his tone, quickly scurry to the back of the shop, Lev’s men trailing behind them.

Vanya then turns to Claude, his voice firm but kind. "As long as you don’t do anything stupid, you’ll make it out of this no worse for wear."

Lev watches the scene unfold with a satisfied grin. Once the area is cleared, he turns to Claude, still smiling.

"I’m ready for my showing now," he announces.

Claude regards us with a wary eye. "Wait a minute, you’re Lev Ivanov." There’s a quiver of anxiety in his voice.

Lev gives him a smile, both charming and chilling. "The one and only.”

A visible wave of relief washes over Claude, and he manages a smile of his own, albeit a shaky one. "I've heard of your reputation. I’m told you’re a gentleman."

From somewhere in the store, Vanya, who had been casually examining the jewelry, lets out a bark of a laugh at this description.

Lev doesn't miss a beat. “Perhaps you’ve been told correctly. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my fair share of blood on my hands."

His tone is casual but the underlying warning is clear.

The color drains from Claude’s face as the implications sink in. He swallows hard before asking, "What do you want?"

Lev’s expression turns stony. "I ought to smash every case in here considering the way you robbed Dalia of her hard work and talent."

Claude tries to defend himself, his words coming out in a hurried rush. "Her pieces were left behind in the divorce. I was simply... ah, giving them a good home."

His feeble attempt at justification does nothing and Lev is not amused.

"A good home," Lev echoes, his tone dripping with incredulity. "Bullshit—you’re selling them and claiming that the designs are yours."

I jump in, unable to hold back my frustration. "Exactly, you’ve been making money off my hard work!"

Claude scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as if to brush away a pesky fly. "Nonsense. I taught you everything you know about making jewelry. If anything, you owe me ."

From across the room, Vanya can't contain himself as he lets out another laugh. "You can’t possibly think that line is going to work.”

Lev doesn’t miss a beat, pressing Claude further. "Tell me, Claude, how well have Dalia’s pieces been selling?"

Claude hesitates, but then, with a resigned sigh, admits, "Quite well, actually. Nearly half of them are sold, and I get constant requests for more."

Despite the tension and the less-than-ideal circumstances, I can't help but feel a surge of pride at his words. My work, my art, is desired and cherished by others.

Lev gives me a nod, all business. "Ready to start the private showing, Dalia?"

"Oh yeah, I'm ready.”

Claude, still looking jittery, motions us toward some fancy chairs. "Please, take a seat. Can I get you some champagne?"

I'm about to slip up about the pregnancy but Lev's way ahead of me. "Sparkling water with lime will be fine," he cuts in quickly. Claude nods and scurries off, returning in no time with our drinks, which he pours with slightly shaky hands.

As we settle in, Lev leans closer and whispers, "What would you like to see? Anything at all."

Claude, lingering nearby, can't help but ask, "Seriously, you're not planning to kill me, are you?"

Lev shoots him a half-smile. "The night is still young.”

I decide to steer us back to the purpose of our visit. "I'd love to see some tennis bracelets.”

Claude quickly brings over a tray of glittering bracelets. "Here you go. This one here," he points to a particularly dazzling piece, "is set with a row of large, brilliant-cut diamonds, each one sculpted to perfection. And it’s practically a steal at—”

Lev speaks up. "Let's skip the prices. Just show us what you've got."

Claude, a bit more at ease now, starts showcasing more tennis bracelets with an air of practiced flair.

Lev watches me, a slight smile on his lips. "Pick one," he urges quietly.

I scan the selection and my eyes settle on a stunning bracelet with an elegant wave pattern, the diamonds set so they catch the light from every angle. "That one.”

Claude nods, sliding the bracelet onto my wrist. The cool metal feels luxurious against my skin, and I can't help but be awestruck by how it sparkles.

"Now," Lev says, his voice firm but calm, "let's take a look at some diamond engagement rings."

My heart skips a beat, and I meet his gaze, excitement flickering in my eyes. Claude starts to offer, "We have many styles to—"

But I cut him off, already sure of my choice. "I already know which one I want. The one I was looking at earlier."

Lev tells Claude, "Bring it to me."

I show Claude which one and he retrieves the ring, dutifully placing it in a box. Once he hands it over to Lev, the atmosphere shifts.

Lev casually pulls out a gun and Claude's face blanches. "Oh God!" he exclaims, stepping back.

Lev’s voice is ice cold as he says, "Now, you're going to apologize."

Claude looks like he's about to faint, his face draining of color. “Apologize?” he sputters, shock written all over him.

“That’s right,” Lev replies, his voice cool and steady. “You stole Dalia’s designs and passed them off as your own. You took advantage of her when she was down then made money off it. You’re both a thief and a liar.”

Seeing Claude shake like a leaf, I feel a twist of nervousness. “Lev, I really don’t want him to die.”

Lev glances at me, then back at Claude. “His fate’s in his own hands.”

Claude practically falls over himself to apologize. “I’m sorry, Dalia, I’m so sorry.”

Lev isn’t having it. “You’ll need to do better than that. First, get on your knees,” he directs sharply.

Without much choice, Claude drops to his knees, his movements awkward and desperate.

Lev’s voice is authoritative. “Now, Claude. Apologize specifically for what you did.”

Claude nods quickly, turning to me with eyes wide. He clasps his hands together, almost as if he’s praying. “Dalia, I am deeply sorry for taking your jewelry designs and passing them off as my own. It was wrong to profit from your creativity and hard work during a time when you were vulnerable. I regret my actions and the harm they caused you.”

From across the room, Vanya chimes in, half-joking, half-serious. “You know, the Yakuza makes people cut off a knuckle to show how sincere they are when they apologize.”

Claude's face goes even whiter, and he lets out a shrill shriek at the suggestion. "No, please, no!"

Lev chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “I don’t think we need to go that far,” he says, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

Turning to me, Lev’s expression softens. “Is the apology sufficient?”

I pause, weighing the fear and remorse on Claude’s face against the anger and betrayal I’ve felt. Finally, I say, “Yes.”

His apology seemed genuine, and while it doesn’t undo the past, it's a step. Lev nods in agreement, satisfied with the outcome.

Claude, still on his knees, looks up at Lev with a hopeful expression. "Have I done everything you want?"

"Not quite," Lev responds coolly. He glances around the luxurious interior of the store. "We still need to discuss the payment Dalia deserves for the sale of her designs." His gaze then fixes back on Claude. "A nice place like this must keep good records, right, Claude?"

Claude swallows hard, nodding. "Yes, indeed we do.”

"Excellent," Lev says. "Where are they?"

"In the back," Claude responds quickly.

"Very good," Lev replies. He turns to Vanya, who's been quietly observing from the side. "I want you to go back with Claude and find all of the records for every piece of Dalia’s that have been sold."

Lev then looks at Claude. “Do you understand what to do?”

"Yes, sir," Claude says, a bit of relief in his voice as he stands. He leads the way to the back of the store, Vanya following closely behind.

As they disappear into the back, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

Lev turns to me with a concerned expression. "You alright?"

"I'm fine. In fact, I'm enjoying this more than I would've guessed."

"Good," Lev replies with a hint of amusement.

"Just make sure not to shoot him," I add.

Just then, Vanya and Claude return, Claude clutching a manila envelope in his hands. He offers it to Lev dutifully. Lev takes the envelope, his expression turning serious again as he starts to sift through the contents. He lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed or perhaps shocked by the numbers. After a moment, he closes the folder decisively.

"Here's what we're going to do," he begins, laying out his plan. "The prices that these pieces sold at are what you owe Dalia. We'll subtract that amount from the combined cost of the tennis bracelet and the engagement ring."

He then turns to me, his eyes questioning. "Anything else catch your eye?"

Scanning the display, my gaze lands on a stunning pair of elegant diamond earrings, featuring a large teardrop central diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller stones set in white gold.

"Those earrings," I say, pointing them out.

Claude groans audibly, a sound of pure despair, as he sees where this is heading.

"Box them up," Lev instructs firmly, "then give me a total."

Claude is resigned and does as he’s told. He boxes the earrings then returns to his calculator. His face goes pale as he runs the numbers, the reality of the financial hit setting in.

"I owe you twelve-thousand dollars," he announces, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you have that kind of cash on hand?”

Claude nods. “Yes, I haven’t gone to the bank to make a deposit yet today.”

“Give it to Vanya.”

Claude again goes to the back then returns with an envelope, handing it to Vanya. Lev turns to Vanya with a final instruction. "Confirm it’s all there then split the money among the staff for their trouble.

"Now," Lev shifts gears, still all business but with an undercurrent of support just for me. "There's still the matter of your pieces, Dalia. What would you like to do?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek for a second, mulling it over. "I'd like them back but I did make them to be sold, after all."

Lev's eyes light up with an idea. "How about this," he offers, turning back to Claude, "you keep these pieces here and sell them. You’ll get a finder’s fee of five percent for each sale."

Claude groans again, sounding like he's swallowed something sour. I have to press my lips tightly together to stop from laughing out loud.

Lev looks Claude square in the eye. "No funny business," he warns. "I’ll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re playing straight."

"Of course," Claude responds, a little too quickly.

Vanya returns, grinning a bit. "The staff was more than happy with the cash.”

"People always are," Lev replies as he stands, a hint of dry humor in his voice. He picks up the bag of jewelry we're taking with us. "Thank you for the private showing, Mr. Pascal," he says to Claude politely.

Stepping outside, I feel like I'm floating, the laughter and lightness between Lev, Vanya, and me making everything seem a little brighter.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve won.