Dajana stood in front of the balcony doors with her hands clasped behind her back, gazing out over the view below. In the kitchen, Timothy clinked glasses as he fixed the drinks. There was no trace left of the tension that had filled the apartment earlier. Sunlight danced across the crystal chandelier and the glass table. Every so often a warm ocean breeze drifted through the living room.
“Lemon or orange in your drink?” Timothy called from the kitchen.
“Both,” Dajana answered without hesitation.
A quiet laugh drifted in from the kitchen. Dajana’s lips curved into a faint smile. Only the pulse beating in her neck betrayed her state of mind, but with a casual toss of her head even that disappeared, hidden beneath her hair.
“All right, tell me,” Timothy said impatiently when he returned with the cocktails.
With a slightly theatrical gesture, Dajana took the glass with both the lemon and orange slices floating in it. She lifted it in a small toast, nodded, and took a careful sip.
“I managed to talk her into seeing reason. She asked for twice the current market value of the house. Considering Ted’s fortune, that’s not much. Especially after he stripped her father of everything.”
Timothy slowly shook his head.
“Nice work. You’ll get the same amount, just like we agreed. After that, we forget each other exists. If you ever run into Noud or Bernard, a polite hello is more than enough.”
The vein in Dajana’s neck pulsed hard. She nodded carefully.
“Exactly.”
“If it ever crosses your mind to start talking to them,” Timothy went on, “you’ll end up in prison. Your husband right beside you. And your son in foster care.”
“You don’t need to remind me.”
“You’ll get the money tomorrow. It’ll be where Ted always used to leave it for you.”
Dajana slowly turned toward him. Tilting her head, she gave the round-faced man a narrow smile, studying his sweat-sheened forehead.
“So you’re the one running the show…”
Timothy tried to keep his composure, but the unexpected praise clearly pleased him. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, I prefer to think of myself as more of a coordinator.”
“And them?” Dajana raised an eyebrow playfully. “Do they know they’re playing from your sheet music?”
A quiet laugh slipped from Timothy’s mouth. He absentmindedly ran the nail of his thumb across his damp forehead.
Dajana’s gaze drifted back toward the distance.
“Who would’ve thought the authorities would complicate things like this—making deals behind each other’s backs.”
“The authorities…” Timothy chuckled. “Well. That’s how authorities work.”