Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
First, I’m a De Kysa, so the Feds have got eyes and ears all over me, just waiting for me to fuck up somehow so they can take me down, and Dario was laying out the red carpet for them. If they caught even a whiff of me being tied to something like that, then I’d be sitting in a six-by-four cell by sundown.
Secondly, the moment you think trafficking is an acceptable career choice, you and me are going to have a problem. I trade in fantasies and corporate warfare, I even do a little killing, but I don’t fucking traffic people.
Thirdly, I’m not blind. The girls hate him. And it’s my experience that there is never smoke without fire.
And lastly, he kicked a stray cat on our way out to the alleyway, and goddamn it, that shit is just vile. Hurting animals is a sign of weakness, and I don’t surround myself with weak people. And I certainly don’t have them running my club.
So I made him beg. Gave him a glimmer of hope. Made him think perhaps he could talk his way out of the giant pile of shit he’d landed himself in.
Then I took all the fingers on his right hand.
Then all the fingers on his left.
Because trafficking sickens me to my gut and I wanted him to feel the pain.
And then I shot him dead.
Back in the club, I open a new bottle of Macallan in my office. I don’t like killing people, regardless how much of an asshole they are, but it’s an unpleasant necessity in my position. The moment you show weakness is the moment you lose the fight. And in my world, that means you die.
When I check my phone, there is a message from Crazy Joe.
“Harrison Tork is still off radar. But we were able to access his financial records. He transferred money out of an offshore account to another one only a day ago. But this is the strange thing. That account was closed, and the money sent somewhere else. We’re trying to find the new location of the money, but there are a lot of firewalls in place. If I were a betting man, I’d say your boy has been double-crossed.”
I sit back in my chair.
So the double-crosser has been double-crossed.
I met Harrison a couple of times when the De Kysa were still involved with the Bamcorda, and I occasionally visited the Bamcorda compound.
One thing about Harrison, he might be clever with numbers, but he’s no intellectual con man. I know for a fact he wasn’t the only one involved with stealing Bianca’s money. He pushed the buttons, but someone else was behind it.
Apparently, a new someone else is now in control.
Meaning, finding Bianca’s money just got a lot harder.
18
BIANCA
To celebrate my promotion, I visit my very own heaven on Earth.
Bentley’s on Fifth.
It’s one of the most luxurious department stores on Fifth Avenue, where the air is thick with opulence and designer labels are in abundance, and it is even scented with their own signature fragrance that smells like luxury.
As soon as I step inside the palatial store, my spirits lift.
I stop to inhale a deep, appreciative breath, and straight away, my dopamine levels shoot up. I might be broke now, but this is my happy place and these are my people.
I move from designer to designer, taking it all in.
The smell.
The lights.
The glittering display cabinets.
The dazzling array of designer labels.
It’s like coming home.
If I didn’t think it’d get me kicked out, I’d get down on my knees and press my cheek to the cool marble floors and thank it for welcoming me home.
I can’t take the grin off my face as I absorb the haute couture heaven surrounding me. I used to lose hours in here. Not to mention, drop a sizable amount of money that would make anyone weep. Which, in hindsight, feels kind of ridiculous now that I actually have to work for my money.
But still, this place makes my heart sing.
I pick up a ridiculously expensive scarf and slide it through my fingers, relishing the softness and the delicate way it falls. It feels like pure luxury and elegance. Like it’s been woven from angel wings and dyed with rare hues found along the river Nile.
I smell it, and it even smells ridiculously luxurious.
“Oh my God, that looks divine on you. It’d be a crime if you don’t buy it.”
I recognize the voice before I even turn around.
Lilah.
But she’s not talking to me. She’s talking to Jules, who is trying on a stunning cocktail dress that probably costs more than what I’d make at Lair in a year. They’re across the aisle from me, standing in front of a mirrored wall where Jules turns and twirls in the stunning silk dress.
I quickly duck behind a display gondola to watch my ex-best friends.