Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
For the first time, Sidorov raises his voice. “You can’t do that. A deal is a deal.”
“I break deals all the time. You want to know why? Because I can,” Bryant counters, his men gathering near their boss as they can sense the tension between the two men is growing.
I notice that Lyriope is looking at me wide-eyed. I can’t tell if she’s afraid, surprised, or if there is a small part of her that believes her father is finally fighting for her honor. Although I know this has nothing to do with Lyriope but all to do with the fact that Bryant feels disrespected, and everyone knows not to disrespect Bryant Morelli. Everyone except Pavel Sidorov.
Pavel really was such an easy man to lead astray. A simple phone call, a few texts when he should have been dining and impressing Bryant Morelli, a promise of prestige and lifetime invites to Wonderland, a little payoff… Pavel was by far the easiest man to manipulate in my dirty dealing career. Having the man miss his own engagement party should have been so much harder to arrange.
And yet… success.
“In Italy—”
“Fuck Italy,” Bryant seethes, leaning in. “And fuck you for even getting involved. I shouldn’t have even lowered myself to the Sidorov level and negotiated with low-level criminals. But I did, and I tried to make the best out of it. But this”—he motions around him—“is over. Over.”
Bryant moves to leave, but Sidorov grabs him by the arm.
Third mistake.
“You can’t just walk out of here and—”
“Get your fucking hand off me.” Bryant is cool, collected, and so very sinister. I have a new respect for the man right now.
Sidorov releases him, but he too turns sinister. “You’re going to regret this. I take deals seriously. A man’s word is everything. If a man goes back on his word, there are consequences.”
Bryant takes Lyriope by the arm—finally acknowledging she’s standing right beside him—and takes a few steps toward the door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “Threaten me again, and you’re a dead man. I give you one freebie. One.”
“I don’t make threats, Morelli,” Sidorov says as his eyes lock with men of his own on the far right of the room.
Bryant doesn’t notice me standing in the sidelines, or if he does, the rage inside of him is blinding the man. I wait until he and Lyriope exit the restaurant, but then I follow close behind. I know this doesn’t end well tonight. Sidorov isn’t known for his brains, but he is known for his ruthless actions. I half expect him and his thugs to come storming out of the restaurant to pounce on Bryant, and I want to be near to pull Lyriope to safety if I have to.
I watch as Lyriope enters the car to leave. She looks tiny next to Bryant and his goons. That ridiculous red dress—I know she was forced to wear—that molds to her body like a second skin. The bodice clings to very generous breasts that accentuate how small her waist is. The hem comes to mid-thigh, her legs trim and shapely, and I can see the muscles of her calves as she stands in ridiculously high heels. When she turns toward the restaurant, I appreciate that the woman has a figure any man would lust after. Her rounded ass is full and the dress tight enough to have me doubt she’s wearing anything beneath it. Long brown hair falls in curls to the middle of her back, held at the nape of her neck with some sort of clip, the stone of which glitter in the sun. Another flash of splintered light comes from a bracelet when she lifts her hand to swipe a piece of her hair from her eye. Every man with eyes watches her walk beside one of the most dangerous and powerful men in the world as they leave a wake of disaster behind them. Even as they disappear into the vehicle, I see that it takes a few seconds for Bryant’s underlings to seem to remember they have a job to do. I can’t blame them. The woman is gorgeous.
I’m proud of her. She’s holding her head high even though I’m sure confusion and the unknown is drowning her. She kept her face composed. She didn’t ask questions or try to get involved. She simply observed.
People who observe are the deadliest. Always fear a quiet assassin.
Yes, I’m so very proud of the strength she exuded as she stormed out of the restaurant by her father’s side as the fuse to my carefully orchestrated inferno is about to ignite.
She’s a Morelli now, and she actually looks it.
* * *
Lyriope
I don’t say a single word or ask a question. I want to. I almost choke on the flood of what-nows that are drowning in the back of my throat. But I simply clutch my shaking hands in front of me while I try not to look back toward the restaurant. I won’t be able to stomach seeing Nick standing there, and I know he watched the entire exchange between my father and Sidorov. I don’t know what happens next, but my heart breaks in a million pieces as I stare down at the ground waiting for the door of the vehicle to be opened for me. Regardless if I marry Pavel or not, I know tonight’s incident isn’t a good thing. It’s not good news that I’m no longer marrying Pavel. Something worse will no doubt be taking its place. Resigning myself to the fact that I will indeed be captive of a world that I’ll never truly be accepted in, I follow my father’s lead and leave.