«Tell me about Samad,» he suddenly asked.
Diana raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at Damir with clear eyes. «He’s not very well liked.»
«Why not?»
«Well… how do I put it… he’s a bit arrogant. Not strong in business, but constantly puts people in their place.»
«What does he mainly do?»
«He collects debts.»
«What do you mean, collects?»
«In different ways,» she replied simply, shrugging.
«Legally, and sometimes not. Depends on who he’s dealing with.»
Damir picked up a pen and spun it between his fingers, recalling the veiled threats Samad had made during their first meeting. It wasn’t that he feared him—he just didn’t want the unnecessary headache Samad might cause.
«Does Father know about all this?»
«Of course not.»
«Then why don’t you tell him? You’re his right hand, as I understand.»
«I’m just an assistant,» she corrected him.
«And what proof could I possibly provide?» she answered his question with one of her own.
«He’s not just an employee—he’s the owner’s son, which makes him a boss too. Why would I dig into him? The father would take his side anyway.»
Damir stood and slowly walked toward the large window. Stopping beside her, he said quietly, «It’s your responsibility to report all information to your boss—regardless of who or what it concerns.» He held her gaze for another moment, then turned and walked away. «I hope that won’t be the case with me.»
«Yes, Mr. Damir,» the new assistant replied, biting her lip.
Omer Saidi had bought Diana a small house in the center of Montreal for her loyal service, and she didn’t want to lose it. At the same time, making enemies with the other son of the owner wasn’t in her plans either. She preferred to stay neutral.
The next day, Samad himself stopped by. Damir gestured toward the chair, then sat across from him. A small table separated them. The secretary asked if they wanted anything, and after she left, Samad spoke.
«Congratulations! From nobody to deputy of a major company!» he said, clapping his hands as he looked around the luxurious office of his so-called brother.
«Thanks. And this is just the beginning,» Damir replied coolly.
«Sometimes the beginning turns out to be the beginning of the end,» Samad said, leaning forward slightly.
Enough.
Damir stood up, walked around the table, grabbed Samad by the collar, and yanked him to his feet. Looking him dead in the eye, he growled,
«If you have something to say—say it openly. Don’t drop threats like some rat in the shadows.»
Samad shoved him back, his face red with anger. Raising a finger, he said under his breath, «Don’t ever do that again.»
«Then don’t ever threaten me again.»
When Samad left, Damir cursed and slammed his fist on the table. The situation was getting more and more complicated.
And tonight—at the family dinner, where that damn bastard would also be present—he had planned to announce his departure. That is, his trip back home. To bring his mother and his fiancée. And now what?
Chapter 8
“I have a suggestion,” Damir began as dinner was winding down. Everyone was full and content.
“What is it, son?” his mother asked with a smile, sitting beside him.
All eyes turned toward Damir, including Samad, who sat directly across the table.
“Father, if things at work aren’t too overwhelming right now, maybe you and my brother could take a week or two off?” Damir said, squeezing his mother’s hand beneath the table.
“All right,” Omer replied immediately, raising his brows as if to ask, Why?
“We’ll all go to Russia—to my home. Visit for a bit.” With those words, he looked directly at Samad, who nearly choked. “There lives another mother of ours—the one who raised me and gave birth to Samad. We should pay her our respects and honor her with our visit.”