Leo doubles his pace as I stride through the lobby, catching up with me as I get to the elevator. He shakes his head as he struggles to catch his breath.
“I need to put in more hours at the gym,” he comments while I press the button that turns green. “But between shadowing you and attending to other matters, the only time I have is between noon and two pm.”
The doors open, and I step in, waiting for them to close again before turning to him. “Twelve and two?”
He nods. “Yeah. You’re a morning person, which means I can’t be in sweaty shorts when you need me, and you’re not the kind to go straight home from the office either. Twelve to two is the least busy time of the day—according to my data—” I glance down when he looks at his watch.
“I have Sergei,” I remind him. “You can take time off if you need to.”
“You need me,” he says with a quiet snort. To prove his point, he presses the button for the top floor, before facing me with a smug look and an arched brow. See?
“What’s the update?” I ask, ignoring him.
He leans against the metal wall as the elevator rides up. “Nothing new. And believe me, I’m using every resource at my disposal. A lot of loan sharks and safe houses are out of business now.”
It’s not enough.
My patience is thin, and it’s close to snapping. I don’t want to start a war, but the longer Marco Ricci stays hidden, the less likely I am to honor certain obligations and treaties.
“Alex,” Leo comments. “What did you do to him?”
The accountant. “Took him off the list,” I say flatly.
Leo shrugs, pushing upright when the doors open. He follows, hot on my trail, as I walk to my office. “Okay. Who’s next?”
“Mr. Volkov,” Marge greets me with a polite smile.
I nod, but Leo looks at her desk with a big grin. “Marge. You look as beautiful as ever.”
He kisses her hand, earning an eye roll from her and a swat on the shoulder when he refuses to let go. I leave them, moving on.
My seat is barely warm when Leo walks in. “The list,” he reminds me. “Who’s next?”
An executive.
It took a couple of broken fingers and a bloodied nose, among other things, to get the name from Alex, but he eventually confessed. I have to admit, I was a bit impressed that he held out that long.
Two broken fingers, but I expected him to rattle from the threat alone.
“What do you have on Billie Russell?” I ask.
Leo rubs the back of his head, frowning a bit. “The former director of human resources who’s now on the executive board?”
I nod.
“The standard,” he says. In addition to being the only person I trust, Leo has an unofficial capacity in the company. A photographic memory with a large file on everyone in upper management.
“Any family?” I ask.
He purses his lips, thinking. I reach for my laptop to do a quick search, but I barely have it open when he snaps his fingers. “Yeah, an ex-wife. They split five years ago in a messy divorce. She took the house.” He laughs. Why?”
“Children?”
“Yeah. Two. Again—” He gestures. “Why?”
My jaw clenches, and my anger coils, sitting patiently in my gut. “He was the middleman between Alex and Ricci.”
Leo drags his hand over his face with a sigh. “How many now? At this point, you’re better off turning the company inside out. He used to attend dinners at your house, didn’t he?”
Yes. Another person my father stupidly trusted. At this point, I’m starting to think the man I knew…wasn’t the man he was. I learned almost everything I know from my father—he was ruthless, nearly unforgiving, and had hard boundaries.
He must’ve slipped in his older age, letting them get to him.
It doesn’t matter. Weak or not, I intend to avenge his death. One by one, everybody who played a part will pay.
Marco Ricci is the cherry on the cake.
“I need you to find out where his kids are. Have someone go there and send proof while keeping an eye on them.”
“Whatever you say,” he replies.
The door opens slightly, and Marge pokes her head through. “Didn’t want to disturb, but Billie Russell says he’d like to see you. Something about an idea for next quarter. Where do you want me to put him?”
Leo chuckles darkly. “Speak of the devil, and he’ll appear. Put him in the conference room, Marge.”
“Sure.”
“You’re a sweetheart,” he tells her as the door closes again. Then he turns to me, adding when I tilt my head in question, “I didn’t think you wanted a clean-up crew here for the second time in two days. Besides, it’s soundproof.” He stands. “I’ll make the call. Give you some room.”
I flex my knuckles as he leaves before getting to my feet. My eyes wander to the spot where Alex begged for mercy, his pitiful wails like a stain that’ll never wash out.
When he begged…he begged.
Unlike her.
The parting comment before I left was supposed to scare Isabella into staying put, but even if it frightened her, she didn’t let it show.
And last night…I thought she might’ve cowered. Or found an excuse to keep me away so she could use one last Hail Mary to reach her father.
Instead, she invited me to come along.
“You wanna go first? Or walk behind?” Her words echo in my head, teasing me. “I’m sure you can work something out. You’re big and strong, after all.”
A starfish.
A knowing smile curls my lips. If—no, when I take Isabella to bed, she won’t just lie there. I don’t intend to show her affection or tenderness, but I’ll make her beg for more.
For my touch. For my head between her thighs and my cock inside her. Her sneers will become broken, ragged moans as she clings to me, and the only thing on her lips will be my name as I use her.
I take a deep breath, and the image of Isabella in my shirt comes to mind again.
Weak buttons. They’d snap easily under my hands, falling to the ground with ease. Her soft skin in my hands, her breasts spilling out, and her legs spread.
She’d make a pretty sight. Pretty, pink, and very fuckable. When it happens, I don’t intend to hold back.
Marge knocks again.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I say, pushing Isabella out of my head. Soon. I’ll have her carrying my last name and my child.
For now, I have other things to attend to.
“One last thing,” I mutter as I reach into my desk drawer. My fingers touch something cold and hard, and my smile widens as I remove it and tuck it into my waistband.
Billie hurriedly stands when I walk into the conference room. “Mr. Volkov,” he addresses me. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”
“Sure,” I reply, nonplussed, taking my place at the head of the table. “You said you wanted to discuss something pertaining to the next quarter?”
His head dances as he nods, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He’s nervous. Either he knows something is coming his way, or he’s drowning in guilt.
Neither makes any difference to me. If he’s here to ask for mercy, he’ll find out that his fate would’ve been better as a fugitive.
I would’ve found him, but that’s beside the point. “Go ahead, Bille.”
“Okay.” His hands fall on his thighs, and he rubs them together. “So, you know I worked for your father. Spent twenty years working alongside him, so I know a lot about this company. I was thinking we could establish trade relations with a wider international market.”
He clears his throat and loosens his tie. “I could go,” he says with a sudden upbeat attitude. “I don’t mind breaking the ground, putting the work in. You don’t have to pay me as much as I earn here. I’ll do anything for this company.”
A low, humorless laugh rumbles from my chest. It startles him—just enough to make him shift in his seat.
“You should’ve run, Billie.”
His eyes widen. The room stretches into a thick silence, broken only by the subtle tick of the clock on the wall.
“You had your chance. You could’ve disappeared, and changed your name. Started over somewhere far from here.” I lean forward slowly, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “But instead, you walked right into the lion’s den, thinking you’d walk out with a promotion? I mean…” I scoff. “I would’ve found you, but you’d have bought yourself some time.”
He swallows hard, his smile twitching at the edges, trying to hold.
“You really thought I wouldn’t find out?” I shake my head. “Stealing from my father was the last mistake you’ll ever make.”
“Steal? Me?” he repeats, feigning shock as he presses a hand to his chest like I’ve just accused him of murder. “Why would I do that?”
I stare at him flatly. “You tell me.”
He lets out a shaky chuckle as if the idea is so absurd it’s laughable. “Your father was good to me,” he says, dragging out every word with exaggerated sincerity. “I owe him everything, Mr. Volkov. To think that I’d steal from him? Impossible.”
His eyes widen for effect, but I see right through the act.
“Then I suppose the money you embezzled for Marco Ricci happened on its own?” I say coolly, watching the twitch in his jaw.
The silence that follows is louder than anything else he’s said. “Alex gave up your name.”
His chair scrapes back, and I see his feet point toward the door. He’s getting ready to run.
Too late.
“Alex Hart is the last person you should trust, Roman,” he says, using my name as a desperate last resort. “Your father never did. I knew he was stealing, and I told him to come clean. I never thought he’d turn on me.”
I say nothing.
He’s already dug a hole. I should bury him in it, but I don’t intend on getting rid of him just yet. I look away for a second, and he bolts out of the chair.
The sound of my gun cocking stops him in his tracks. “You might want to reconsider taking another step.”
“Wh—” I smell the same fear Alex showed as he swallows thickly. “What are you doing?”
I point to his chair. “Sit.”
He’s quick to comply, and I place the gun on the table, watching him unfold in terror. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me where Marco Ricci is. And before you deny it, know that I don’t have any problem putting the bullet between your eyes. In fact, it’ll bring me much pleasure to do so.”
“I don’t know,” he says, his hands visibly shaking on the table. “The last time I saw him was a week ago. He said he needed some money. A big amount. I told him it would raise flags, but he said he would hurt my kids.”
I shrug, my hand sitting lightly on the gun. “Save your sob story for someone who cares. Tell me where he is, or you might really start worrying about the safety of your children.”
As he fidgets, I reach for my phone and send a message to Leo. A minute later, a video pops up. I press play and slide my phone across to him.
His hand flies to his mouth in a horrified gasp. “My—” He looks at me, eyes wide. “Where did you—where—”
“I’ll ask one more time. Where is Ricci?”
“I don’t know! I promise you, I don’t know! He said he was going to contact me because he had something to do out of town, but I haven’t received any calls from him.”
I see.
He’s telling the truth, that much I know. “You get to keep your head on your shoulders, Billie. However, you’re going to listen to my next words carefully…”
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I head down hours later—the sun set a while ago—and see Leo standing by the car.
He shrugs. “I felt you needed some company.” He opens the back door, but I ignore it, reaching for the front passenger door. “I also gave your driver the day off, so you have me for the rest of the day.”
I wait until he comes around, gets in, and closes the door to call him out. “Spill.”
Leo hesitates, then sighs. “Nope. You don’t want to know what I think. So I’m going to pretend like I agree with your plan. When’s the wedding?”
My lips press into a thin line as my forehead furrows. “Wedding?”
“You’re getting married to Isabella Ricci, aren’t you?” He starts the car, slowly pulling away from the parking spot. “I only have one question—what if he never comes for her? Your main goal is to use her to get Marco, right? What if he abandons his daughter? From what I’ve heard, he treated her more like an employee than his only child.”
On a different day, I’d ignore Leo’s skepticism, but after Billie… The pool of people who know about Marco Ricci’s whereabouts is getting smaller, and with no rumors of a plan to retrieve Isabella, I am getting worried.
If he manages to slip further away, my plan has failed. For the most part.
The pulse in my temple is so loud from my seething anger that it drowns out everything, including Leo’s voice. It rises through my chest, coiling around my throat until it’s the only thing I can see and hear.
Fucking bastard.
He won’t get away with it. No matter what I have to do—I’ll find him. I swear.
I’m out of the car the moment it stops, kicking the door open and striding through the house and to the stairs without so much as a pause. Leo calls after me, but I don’t break stride. His voice fades the further I go, drowned out by the storm in my chest.
I reach Isabella’s door. No hesitation this time. No knocking. I shove it open—
And freeze.
She’s just stepped out of the bathroom, a white towel clinging low to her hips. Steam curls around her like smoke, and water drips from her hair, sliding down her bare shoulders and gliding along the curve of her collarbone.
She stops when she sees me, her lips parting slightly, breath catching. And for one long, burning second, everything else disappears.
The words that sat on my tongue, the anger raging in my chest…everything has turned to smoke. Because all I can think about is how goddamn good she looks like this—dripping, flushed, and half-naked in the middle of her room.
And how easy it would be to reach for her towel, tossing it away. Naked. Olive skin glistening from the shower, and at my mercy.
My eyes rake over her body without subtlety, and my jaw ticks as her face flushes, the warm pink spreading to her chest. How far does it go? I wonder as my gaze sinks lower, to the point where her towel stops on her thighs and the rest of her legs go on forever.
They’d look better over my shoulders, her thighs spread wide and her pussy quivering against my tongue.
And wrapped around me as I fuck her, my cock sliding in and out of her tight, wet—
“Get out!” she shrieks, and I duck just in time for her to grab a pillow and chuck it at my head. Surprisingly, her towel stays in place despite all the movement. “What are you doing here?!”
“What do you think?” I rasp. My voice is thick with lust, and a large part of my brain isn’t thinking anymore. Somehow, my thirst for revenge and the rush of desire have blended into one ticking bomb.
Isabella’s eyes widen as I take a step forward, and I see a flash of fear, mingled with uncertainty. It doesn’t slow me down, and I cross the room, keeping my gaze trained on her until she backs herself into the wall.
Earl gray. Cream.
I inhale sharply as the smell of her bodywash hits my nostrils. She smells like warmth. Slightly nostalgic, like a luxurious tea break in a steam-filled spa.
“Wh—what are you doing?” she breathes, her voice barely holding steady.
I feel her shiver as my thumb brushes her cheek, slow and deliberate. “What do you think?” I murmur, leaning in, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. Her breath hitches.
My fingers drift lower, trailing the edge of her jaw until they rest lightly at the base of her neck—right over the fluttering pulse that gives her away.
My other hand finds her waist, sliding down her curves with practiced ease until it settles on her hip, gripping her just enough to make her gasp. She’s soft. So fucking soft, even with the towel between her skin and mine.
My fingers dig into the cotton, and I take a second to think about ripping it off her body. “You’re shaking,” I whisper, tightening my hold. “Are you scared…or excited?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Why?” I mutter as my fingers skim the end of the towel, barely touching her thigh. “Are you scared of how much you want this? How much you want me to touch you?”
She gulps heavily and turns her head away.
“No,” I say. I shake my head, cupping her chin and forcing her face back to mine. “I told you, didn’t I? You’re going to be my wife. And you’ll warm my bed.”
If I can’t get Marco, I’ll use his daughter as I please.
“Please.”
Something about the way she says the single word, like a broken plea, breaks through the fog in my mind. I see the single tear that falls down her face and the scared look in her eyes—like a rabbit caught in a trap, desperately gnawing at his leg to escape.
My hands fall away like they touched a live wire, and I step back. She falls to the ground as I let go, curling into a ball and shaking all over.
What the hell did I just do?
What was I doing?
“Isabella—” My voice sounds like it’s coming from someone else.
“Don’t.” Her voice cracks around the word. She won’t even look at me. “Please…go away. I beg you.”
The breath leaves my lungs like a punch. I stare for a second longer, unsure if I’m more furious at her for making me feel this way or at myself for what I’ve done.
I don’t speak again. With one last look at her, I spin on my heel and storm out, slamming the door behind me hard enough to rattle the walls.
She was the one taunting me yesterday, wasn’t she? The starfish. “I’m sure you can work something out. You’re big and strong, after all.” So why the hell do I feel like the monster now?
My fist curls as I walk into the kitchen, heading mindlessly for the sink as if water will somehow wash away my guilt.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself as I stand in front of the running water. I don’t care if she’s terrified. Isabella Ricci is nothing more than a means to an end. I shouldn’t care how she feels, if she hasn’t served her purpose for being here.
Being my wife and giving me an heir. I won’t touch her. Not yet.
But she’ll be my wife. Today.
