- Explain to me, please, and what was this whole sordid circus all about? Is this just a fascinating "detective" from idleness, or such a sophisticated way of self-assertion? And even if it is, there's no need to drag me into it! Do you have any idea what this could lead to?

Kate's resentment and discontent rose in emotional peaks, but her natural composure and judgement, coupled with her sobriety, got the upper hand. She, Beckett, was not used to hysterics and waving her fists, even if she suddenly found out about the very piquant circumstances of Grigoriadi's appearance at the driving school. Which, by the way, Kate herself was not particularly surprised. His father had so much power that if Petar had wished for a Martian bracelet with moonstone inlays it would have come true. True, in this situation Petar, having obviously abused Beckett's trust, was clearly cheating.

The fiery blush still burned on the maiden's face, but a series of deep sighs and exhalations brought Kate's soul to a stable equilibrium. The flexible, luxurious curl of her hair that loomed before her eyes was modestly tucked behind a neat ear, and only then did Grigoriadi appear before Beckett in all his glory. Dressed stylishly and fashionably, Petar was indecently sprawled out on the leather sofa, facing her. Grigoriadi held a cocktail straw in his mouth, which he carelessly swung from corner to corner. His strong arms, bent at the elbows, rested loosely on the backrest, his foot behind his leg, and a wry, cocky smirk on his lips, pressed against Castle's fists. Really, Kate didn't seem to care that tonight wasn't their long-awaited date, but more like a showdown. Well, she had to listen carefully to the excuses, but not the explanations, and at the same time to treat herself, her favorite, to an unsurpassed latte with cream and vanilla, and caramel-chocolate bagels, which were beyond competition at all.

A skinny, short-cropped waitress in a uniform apron and cap brought a silver tray with fresh pastries, coffee pot, and cups, and to get rid of her, Petar immediately slipped the girl a large bill carelessly. He nodded a polite, shy, "Thank you!" and with the manners of a real barista, quietly tinkling the coffee pot on the thin porcelain, filled the cups to the brim.

- Coffee? - Petar flashed a smug smile, offering a taste with an understandable gesture. While Kate stroked the tip of her nose in contemplation, he too was stalling, adjusting the lapels of his silk shirt gratuitously but with the dignity of a lord. And as time passed, Grigoriadi's gaze did not brighten at all, but, on the contrary, became even more unpleasant. This even made Beckett feel a certain discomfort, but she still held out hope that Petar would be able to explain himself convincingly. Because otherwise she wouldn't let him get away with it, and if his antics last night were the unsightly, met with dignity turn of her fate, there was nothing wrong or irreparable about everything finally falling into place.

Piece by piece, the lush cinnamon and chocolate bagel disappeared into Beckett's mouth, the cup was alternately empty, but Petar never touched his. He only followed Kate's every sip with a hard stare, as if he were creating a kind of dependence on himself, and the unfinished coffee was resolutely set aside.

- So, what's next? - Beckett's dainty, thin eyebrow went upward smoothly and adamantly. - A vanilla latte instead of a raucous excuse?

- Oh, no, no, Kate, of course not. Just explanations, and nothing more," and Petar gently clasped his hands in front of him. His powerful chest sucked in air, which was then slowly pushed out through clenched teeth. - I can, I can explain everything. You see, Kate, it's all about this utterly cruel world around you. A world in which there's no room for beautiful, subtle solitude, which definitely implies a kind of vulnerability. That vulnerability can be you, too, and then we suddenly see someone suddenly appear around you, offering protection and patronage. Of course it's about Castle, and I see right through him. He's a hypocrite, he's a pure chameleon, and his rotten soul stinks for miles around. His unpredictable manners are not very good, and the very sight of that greasy, pompous face makes me want to vomit. And every word I say can easily be proven. Well, let's start with the fact that you know next to nothing about him. So, snippets, gossip, inaccurate information about a man of enviable eloquence. Which I'm sure you've already fallen for.

Here Petar licked his lips with his tongue and took a small sip from his cup. Looking at Kate with a little squint, he leisurely continued.

- Yes, I do not deny that he knows how to talk. He'll throw vague theses at me, promise me a mountain of gold until my throat is hoarse, and pour sweet oil on me from head to toe. At the same time he will earnestly swear eternal affection and love to the grave, but only until the first gloomy corner. There Castle's stamina will change, and the lustful monkey will climb up your skirt with his impatient fingers, roughly up your skirt. No doubt you'll be disgusted and ashamed, and your lip will tell you that appealing to Castle's mercy is like picking at soup with chopsticks. Of course, I see a persistent skepticism in you, so proud and intelligent and independent, but still, alas, still so blind and deaf. That's a good thing for the hardened catcher, Castle, and I'll never believe there's a shred of sincerity in his ostentatious good-naturedness. Or the firm principles he trumpets on every corner, but that's not it at all. It's just that this behavior is solely due to the presence of his daughter, whom he will slap on your neck with a slap on the ass. She will, naturally, cry bitterly into your vest, and Kate Beckett will naturally float.

There was a short pause, during which Petar changed legs, but remained seated in the same position, with a bad glint in his eyes that became even more unpleasant and colder, and an artificial smile glued firmly to his haughtily pursed lips.

- Well, I'll continue," Petar muttered through clenched teeth and spat his chewed-up straw at one end right onto the plate of baked goods. - And everything I said above is not imaginary, because there will be deceit and disappointment and betrayal ahead of you, and when I ask you where your mind has slept, you'll have nothing to say. Right now your hormones are bubbling and your head is spinning and your heart is fluttering, but in time, when you've thought it through, you'll get over this infatuation. And don't look at Castle's skill with women; in life, he's a typical loser with a limited outlook. All his trashy books aren't worth a penny in my father's pocket, and his social status is even lower. And it wouldn't surprise me at all if Castle, instead of raising his daughter, was out all day and night, all of them pretentious bitches willingly spreading their legs at the slightest screech of his fly. Also, Castle must be a gambler and spend his meager earnings on cockroach races or poker without a shred of conscience. That's the way I see it. Think, Kate, who are you mixed up with!

With each caustic word Peter inflamed himself more and more, and the ostensible complacency flew from him like dry leaves from a neighbor's oak tree. Grigoriadi reminded him of a vampire by his crooked mouth and in half-light, and he involuntarily had an impression that some venomous saliva was about to drop from his fangs.

"What a revelation! What a revelation! Perhaps not for nothing do people say that the best defense is an offense!" - Beckett both believed and disbelieved her ears. Her neat eyebrows furrowed at the bridge of her nose, and her palm slammed audibly on the desk lid, confirming her loud indignation and displeasure:

- Thought a hundred times and acquitted herself a hundred times! How dare you even say that! After all, you don't know Castle at all!

- I dare, Kate, I dare," Petar grinned wickedly, "but I, and only I, am the last line from the likes of him. And I don't want you to be hurt.

- It's all sordid slander and untruth! Castle and I can't get hurt! - Beckett became so agitated that the crackling noise in her ears even drowned out the anger in her voice. - The way Rick treats his daughter is a rare treat for any child! Yes, Castle loves to embellish. Yes, he is often indescribable in innocent narcissism, but he has a kind, open heart and a pure soul. And I don't feel any tension when I talk to him, so I'm not going to interrupt our acquaintance. Isn't that what you expected me to say?

- I could listen to you, Kate, all day long, but it's not so much about Castle as it is about you and me. I know practically everything about you, and if things work out well between us, neither you nor your father, nor anyone in the world, will ever regret it!

- Me? My father? - Beckett was genuinely astonished and alarmed, underwhelmed by a serious anxiety that pained her aching soul. - What has my father got to do with anything?

- It does! - Petar bowed his head politely. He put his hand over his heart as if he were sincerely sorry for his brutish impulsiveness, but even through the soft intonation of his voice there was a coarse falsity. - Insofar as your father won't have to prematurely repay the loan he took out for your tuition... from my father.

- Your father? - Kate was rubbing her forehead intensely with the palm of her hand, still thinking about the unexpected twist. - But how... how did that happen?! It doesn't make any sense to me... My dad swore it wasn't credit money, he swore it was divorce money!

- ...of my father," Peter grinned ungraciously and gruffly. - Unfortunately, your father was pathologically useless, so my father did not get what he had hoped for. It was only at my request that he loaned Jim the money for our future wedding, and I think I have every right to you. And yes, I want you, immediately. Do you hear me, Kate?

Suddenly Petar grasped Beckett's hand, but she pulled it away with an effort. There was a melodious clinking of porcelain, and Kate gave a low groan as the tablecloth beneath her hand inexorably blurred into a dark brown, ugly uneven stain. The blouse itself had suffered, too, and before it dried, Beckett carefully worked the dirty spots with a napkin. Her wrist and palm were sticky, too, and she glanced up and down at Petar, who was displeased and angry. His fingers clenched into a tight fist, his gaze unblinking, hard and pointed, but his eyes still had no room for the very thing she wanted: neither friendliness, nor sympathy, nor understanding, nor apology, nor the most important thing in the world: the living flame of love. Figuratively speaking, it was a ruthless look of a hungry boa constrictor at a rabbit in his enclosure. Another minute, and the dead trap of the jaws closed on a thin neck, at once cutting fragile vertebrae. And only a high jump could bring salvation, but if you do not gather your strength, it would be over. Just like between them, finally and irrevocably. All the good things that had once attracted Petar to him were gone without a trace. All that was left was the ugliest side, which could not be whitewashed. And Kate stood up with determination.

- I'm sorry, Petar, but I'm not ready yet. And as a matter of fact - goodbye! - Her sense of tact prevented her from making any sudden moves, but (God knows!) if she'd been any closer, Petar would have punched her in the nose. With his vicious outburst the abominable type, insolent and blackmailer finally pushed her away, and clutching her purse tightly to her chest, Beckett hurried to the exit. Immediately behind her rattled the thrown table, the sound of broken dishes, but Kate did not turn around until Petar, catching up with her in the vestibule, turned her jerkily toward him.

- So you don't care about my warnings or my feelings after all? So it's all about Castle? If you're drawn to him like a magnet," Petar snarled, spitting spittle. - Does he know what he's risking by hitting on an underage girl? I'm afraid he doesn't, though he's no god, devil, or nobody, and a well-tongued tongue is no guarantee against a depressing mess in life. He can tirelessly boast of anything to his friends: the length of his tongue, the power of his penis, his curly brains, even his rare public appearances, but a single call and he is finished! His whole existence would momentarily turn to ashes, to real hell, and in the end Castle would have nothing left-no family, no pathetic books, and no future. Not just with you, but with no one else!

- You wouldn't dare! - Kate jerked her elbow out of his grip and jabbed her finger angrily at his muscular chest, then winced and staggered backward as the sharp pain stabbed her joint. - Who are you to decide the fate of others? Who the hell do you think you are? Even if you have a nagging ego that won't go away, that's no reason to make other people's lives miserable!

- You shouldn't think so badly of me! - Peter narrowed his eyes predatory. He was bursting with anger and frustration. - I just want to make you happy, Kate! I can give you everything, make you happy, but if you don't pity your father's ego, too, then go on, run, demand an account of it!

- Leave my father alone! - Petar shortened his distance dangerously again, and received a sharp, impulsive shove with both palms right in his chest. - This is between him and me, and it's up to us to decide what to say, how to act, and how to evaluate what's already been done! And keep in mind that I am not your thing, Petar, and never will be! How could you ever stoop so low?

- It's love, Kate, however cruel and painful, but love! And I hate it when someone called Nobody gets under my feet! I'm used to getting everything out of life, and there's no other way! Do you hear me, Kate? - and he took her under his elbow again.

- Let me go, Petar! You're hurting me! - Kate freed herself from his grip with a sharp twist, and now the steel balls of the door handles hurt her back. - And anyway, you wanted rapprochement, but instead you turned the magnets of our relationship one policy towards each other. And if ever I missed, it was with you. You are an evil, inhuman, selfish misanthrope, and I wish I had broken up with you sooner. Don't follow me to lectures, sit shoulder to shoulder in the library, or wait with a slice of pizza on weekends. I like open and kind people, and narcissistic egomaniacs can go fuck themselves. That's all I said, Petar! Good-bye!

Beckett pushed the free-opening sash with her shoulder and almost fell out. Petar came out after her. Slipping his hands lazily into his pockets, he looked disdainfully at the angry girl who was holding up her step. Perhaps a little more and her purse would have crashed straight into his jaw, but Petar ducked rather swiftly, sliding sideways. With an incredible force of will, Kate turned her back on him, secretly feeling a wild desire to experience the hardness of a shoe toe on his soft tissues, and took off practically from the spot, but Petar still managed to bile exhale after her:

- Pfft... Mark my words, Kate. You're going to be in trouble with your dash instructor and writer up to your hood. Chances are, you have no idea how many women he's "plowed" before you, and that's why you think he's yours. BUT YOU! HIGHLY! VERY WRONG ABOUT THAT! The epiphany is always late, and a hundred times I'll think about whether to let you in with apologies at the door, or send you away. And I am patient, Kate, and even tolerant, but when I am publicly humiliated by lowering my dignity, pride, and ego, it doesn't take long for me to get an adequate response!

- Dignity?! Pride?! Impeccable self-esteem, you tell me, right?! Oh, you! You've got such a morbid ego that you can't understand the most important thing of all, Petar! - Kate held her step and glanced contemptuously over her shoulder. - That you haven't lost yourself, you've lost me!