Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I blushed furiously, but Greg nodded.
Lorcan motioned for me to speak. I cleared my throat, surprised he was letting me handle the conversation. With him present, I wasn’t sure how successful it would be anyway. People would always choose their answers wisely as not to offend Lorcan and his gang.
I pulled Imogen’s photo from my purse and handed it to Greg. “That’s my sister, Imogen. She came to New York about two months ago to work as a model. She’s tall and slim. She’s exactly what you’d want in a runway model.”
Greg narrowed his eyes in thought. “I see hundreds of girls every month, but I think I remember her. She came without an appointment. She didn’t have a good portfolio. My assistant told her to get new photos with one of the photographers we work with and return with better pictures.”
“But that’s expensive, right? Imogen didn’t have any money.”
Greg shrugged. “Most girls who come to New York to become a model don’t have money. They work hard. Some get sponsors. There are many old men who like a beautiful young woman by their side and in their bed in exchange for money.”
I swallowed. “Like an escort service?”
Greg glanced at Lorcan who answered, “There are escort agencies in Sodom, but girls can meet sponsors without a middleman at the Doom Loop too. More risk, more money.”
“Did Imogen return? With new photos? A new portfolio?”
Greg pursed his lips. “Let me see. I have a huge heap of new applications on my desk. Between the upcoming show and the casting call, I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet. But if your sister really wanted to work for me, she should be here today.”
I followed Greg toward his desk. There were at least fifty folders piled on the sleek glass furniture. Greg browsed through them, then held one up. “Here.”
He opened it and showed me photos of Imogen. There were headshots, bikini and underwear photos, beach photos, and a few black and white images. They were stunning. She was stunning. They weren’t from her time in Ireland. She must have let a photographer shoot her here.
“She picked Laurence as her photographer. Good but an expensive choice. I would have invited her for a fitting with this new portfolio. If you find her, you can tell her I want to see her.”
“Do you know when she brought this portfolio in?”
Greg picked up the phone. “Jo, can you come over?”
A bearded man with fake lashes and a very colorful Versace track suit entered through the glass door. He nodded at Lorcan then he stopped beside Greg. It was obvious they had something going on between them. “Do you know when this portfolio was brought in?”
“Where in the pile was it?”
Greg blew out a breath. “Maybe here.”
“Then maybe two or three weeks ago?”
That was around the time I arrived in New York. So she had been around then. I let out a choked laugh. Maybe she was fine. Maybe she was really just so caught up in her modeling career that she’d forgotten all about us. My heart sank. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for but it was better than certain other alternatives.
“Can you give us the address of the photographer?” I asked.
“Laurence is linked to Sergej,” Greg said.
Lorcan nodded. “Give us the address.”
Greg wrote it down then handed it to Lorcan, who stuffed it into his pants. Then Lorcan dragged me out the door. “Thank you!” I shouted.
Lorcan led me toward his car. I climbed in, giddy over the information I’d gathered.
“I need to talk to Laurence.”
“Not today,” Lorcan said as he pulled away from the curb.
“I have a hot lead. I need to follow it.”
“I don’t have time to accompany you today. We can do it tomorrow.”
“I can go by myself. Laurence is a photographer, not a thug.”
“What makes you think he can’t be both?”
I pursed my lips. “He’s French, right?”
Lorcan cocked a dark eyebrow. “There are French thugs too.”
I huffed. “Greg said something about a Sergej.”
“Indeed, which is why you won’t go to Laurence without me. He’s not under my protection. He’s linked to the Russians.”
“The mob?”
“No, the state ballet,” Lorcan muttered sarcastically. His mood had darkened since Greg had mentioned Sergej.
I swallowed. “If he’s linked to the Russian mob, does that mean my sister was involved with them too?”
Lorcan shrugged. “Laurence is expensive, as Greg said. If you want easy money, certain Russian business men are a good choice.”
“Then this can’t wait. We have to talk to him today!”
Lorcan stopped the car. “No. And that’s my last word. You will obey, Aislinn. Maybe your sister was stupid enough to spread her legs for a Russian sponsor, but I don’t want you anywhere near the Bratva. I’ll handle them. This isn’t child’s play. We have rules. We have territories. We don’t like it when nosy girls mess with our business.”