Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“I want you to get the information on the clubs where these women were last known to be.”
“In one of our clubs.”
“We have more than one, Vlad. If Hank or Benjamin had stepped foot into one of our nightclubs, I’d have been alerted to it.”
“Do you think they’ve got someone else?” Vlad asked.
“They either have someone else working for them, or they paid off one of my men to keep quiet. Either way, I need answers, so I can deal with each part accordingly.”
If my men could be easily bought off, then they had to go. I didn’t accept disloyalty. I wouldn’t even tolerate a bad word said about Ivan. If I ever heard of discord with the Volkov Bratva, I took care of it personally.
“I’m on it.”
I didn’t stop Vlad as he left my office.
Sitting back, I brought up the security screens of my casino, and checked to make sure everything was running smoothly. In the last twenty-four hours, I’d attacked Hank and Benjamin’s places and burned them to the ground, as well as removed their potential business avenue with the girls. There would be retaliation, I just had to wait for it to happen.
The text came through seconds later to say Charlotte was at the penthouse suite and Hubert would be taking care of her. The reminder of my wife brought with it a question of why she’d been fucking crying. I don’t even know why I cared so much. Women cried. It was part of their DNA.
Putting my cell phone down, I thought over this morning. I’d taken her shopping, dealt with the rudeness directed at her. Swiftly nipping it in the bud, because it was unacceptable. I didn’t like any of this.
Something didn’t feel right. I understood the cheekiness of Hank and Benjamin. They were amateurs, but even they knew their limitations, which once again told me someone else was pulling the strings, but who? Why? Where? I didn’t like not having answers to my questions. I needed to find them and soon.
****
Lottie
I didn’t mind being bored. Boredom meant safety. It meant I could do whatever I wanted without fear of repercussions. Growing up, boring meant safety. If my father thought I was being driven crazy with boredom, he wouldn’t bother me.
So, standing in Ive’s penthouse apartment wasn’t too bad. The view was incredible. I didn’t think I’d ever been in a place so high up, I felt like I was close to the clouds. It was pretty amazing. Staring out across the city, I couldn’t exactly make anything out, but it was just pleasing to see the world go by.
Hubert wasn’t in the mood for conversation today. I stood still near the main corridor, keeping an eye on the apartment. He was never one for small talk back at the country house, but this was different.
Ive’s apartment wasn’t quite the adventure to explore as his home was. I liked his home with all the houses and the sticky notes I’d placed on each door, reminding me I’d explored there. His apartment had a main sitting room, which did look comfortable. I’d already tried out the plush white sofa, and yes, I did indeed sink into it. It was so lovely. Better than anything I’d ever sat on. My booty felt like it had been treated well.
Then, of course, there was a dining room. I counted the chairs and wondered if he entertained at all. The table could sit twelve people, and it was spacious.
He didn’t have a lot of furniture or possessions, just enough to create a show home, or a show apartment. That was what this was. A showroom apartment.
The kitchen looked modern with pristine cupboards and top-of-the-range models. Did he spend a lot of time in the kitchen, or did he hire a chef like back home?
There were three bedrooms, as well as a small office. There was no library in his penthouse, nor a game room, nor a cinema room. So, again, not a lot to explore.
Staring out across the city grew tiresome, so I moved over to the sofa and took a seat. I made sure I faced Hubert. “You can sit down, you know?”
“We’re expecting a delivery,” he said.
“Ah, right, the clothes.” I wrapped my arms around myself. Shopping for clothes hadn’t been quite the enjoyment I had expected. I don’t know who had spoiled it more—me, Ive, or that dreadful woman who clearly wanted my husband.
Dropping my hands onto my lap, I couldn’t help but twirl my diamond wedding ring. Ivan Volkov had insisted I wear an engagement ring as well as a wedding one, both on the same finger. They were pretty. The most expensive things I’d ever owned in my life.
But the rings weren’t mine. No, they belonged to Ive, my husband, and if they killed me, they’d go back to him. I merely wore them for show. Nothing more than a trophy. I wasn’t a great trophy, though. The unwanted daughter, the mistaken kidnapping. This should be Cassie.