Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 107265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Yes, and we all know all your shady-ass Ponzi schemes you have going on,” I respond.
“Yeah, speaking of, what the fuck are you doing with my money?” Cyrus cuts in.
“I’m making you a sick investment. Do you really care how?” He gives us all a pointed look.
One drug dealer.
A corrupt banker.
The head of the mafia.
The former arms dealer.
A crooked nightclub owner.
And the man who runs London . . .
Sounds like a particularly decadent start of a joke.
Either way, no one says a word.
* * *
Instead, we all shrug as Cyrus raises his hand, and a waitress comes over with our drinks in hand. The beauty of being a regular means everyone knows what you like.
“Whatever you have going on with Salvatore, we all got your back, man,” Tobias says as the cards are shuffled.
“I know.”
“Just tell me where and when, and I’ll come out of retirement.” I turn to look at Alaric, and I know for me he would.
Who would have ever thought these crazy-ass men would end up being my brothers in arms?
As we drink our drinks and play our hands, I tell them everything that’s happened and what my plan is, and it feels good.
The next day comes, and I still haven’t seen Viviana.
It feels like my wife is avoiding me.
It’s been two days since our trip to New York, and she has sequestered herself in her room.
I’ve been too busy with the lost shipment to deal with this, but now that time has passed, I’ve decided I have given her enough time.
Now I’m sick of it.
I storm up the stairs.
When I’m standing in front of her door, I hammer into it with my fist.
“What?” I hear muffled.
“I’m coming in.”
“I’m-I’m . . .”
“Open the door, Viviana.”
“I’m doing something.”
“Open the door now, or I’m breaking it in, then the only thing you’ll be doing is giving me answers.”
I hear the sound of rustling and then the soft patter of footsteps. The door swings open. There she is. No makeup on, hair in a messy bun on top of her head. She’s wearing leggings and a sweatshirt.
“Are you sick?”
Her eyes widen. “No . . . Do I look sick?” she asks, confused.
“If you’re not sick, why are you hiding in here?”
Her gaze drops down to the floor. “I’m not.”
My hand lifts and tilts her head up until her stare meets mine.
“Why are you avoiding me?” She doesn’t answer. “Is this because I left you in New York?” Her cheeks turn a shade redder. “So that’s not it?” No comment. “Something else then?”
Still no comment.
Her face keeps getting redder and redder until she resembles a cherry tomato.
“Just leave.”
Interesting.
Wonder what has her acting like this.
“Fine. But I expect you at dinner tonight.” I turn around and head straight to the surveillance room in the house. Tony is there in front of the monitors.
“Hey, Boss,” he says as I enter the room.
“I need you to pull all the phone records for the last few days. Also, the surveillance from the past few days.”
“Are we looking for anything in particular?”
“Look at two nights ago. The night of the warehouse.”
That was the last time I spoke to her, and according to Francesca, who went to clean her room, she hasn’t left since then. She has taken her meals in there as well.
He starts to go through the film, looking through everything that happened on video that night. In the hallway, you can see me entering my room. I closed the door. I know what I was doing that night.
The video switches to the next movement. It’s actually outside of Viviana’s room. It’s dark in the hall, and the time correlates with when I was arriving home. She creeps around the house, and then surprisingly, she’s now on video knocking on my door. I don’t remember this, which clearly means I was in the shower. The next thing on the video is peculiar. Viviana walks inside. There’s nothing for about thirty seconds, and then Viviana is seen again creeping through the hallways until she went back to her room.
This is the last time she left. Interesting, she came to my room and then went into hiding.
Suddenly, it all becomes clear. My little wife is a peeping Tom, and on top of that, she is too embarrassed to look me in the eye.
A smile spreads across my face. If she likes to watch, I’ll let her.
I start to imagine what it would be like if she was in the room. I can’t wait until I can watch the footage in private of her room. Although it was a giant breach of privacy, installing that camera in there is now looking like the best idea I have ever had in a long time. I’m about to kick everyone out to watch it now, but then Tony interrupts my thoughts.