Page 28 of Ruthless Reign

I hiss out a breath through my teeth. “That fucking pig. She’s seventeen.”

I know seventeen-year-olds experiment with alcohol, but it’s typically not with their much older soon-to-be brother-in-law. He was supposed to drive her back to school, not take her out drinking. What the fuck happened?

Anger bubbles in my veins. Either Liza doesn’t know the truth, or she decided not to share it with me.

“What do you want me to do, boss? Anatoly left about an hour ago. The nuns wouldn't let him in the dorms,” Savin adds with a little chuckle.

The sick feeling morphs into something darker and twisted. It makes me see red.

This is the fuck-face I’m in business with? Worse, this is the man Liza is marrying?

“Stick around for a few days,” I instruct. “Keep an eye on her, and let me know if Anatoly shows up again.”

“You got it.”

“Savin?” I grit my teeth, not wanting to ask but needing to know. “Did he touch her in a way he shouldn’t have? Get handsy with her?”

He pauses. “No.”

Thank fuck.

As much as I’d like to destroy Anatoly, my hands are tied because of our business dealings. Don’t get me wrong—if he’s a predator, I'll make sure he takes a trip down the River Styx. But I have to play it smart and lie in wait for the right moment to strike.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ROMAN

I take a final swig of the whisky left in my glass—my first and last of the night because there’s still work ahead. The drink does little to distract from how un-fucking-comfortable I am in this tux and the shitstorm brewing inside of me.

My other hand holds a phone to my ear as I lean back in an armchair, in a room in the penthouse suite I’ve commandeered as an office.

From the other end of the line, Pavel mutters a curse under his breath. I just filled him in on everything that went down with Anatoly last night.

I usually stay out of people’s business—less shit for me to wade through—but the minute I saw Liza upset, every protective instinct inside of me flared.

When I was fifteen, I failed to protect my mother from my abusive father. I vowed to never make that mistake again. If a man is sick enough to hurt a woman, then he deserves to have hell rain down on him.

“So this is the kind of man we’re in business with?” Pavel snarls. “A man who thinks nothing of taking a teenage girl out all day without checking in with her family?”

My fingers tighten on the now empty whisky glass in my hand. “Until we find out what actually happened, our hands are tied. Savin's keeping an eye on Sofiya—we'll see if Anatoly makes a reappearance or if anything else happens, for that matter.”

“What did Liza say?” His voice is as dark as mine.

“Nothing. Either she doesn’t know about the drinking or she’s keeping her mouth shut, but she was rattled—that much was clear.”

“If he fucking put a finger on that girl, I’ll take great pleasure in ripping him to shreds.”

A vein in my temple ticks. As much as I want to see Anatoly pay for his every sin, he’s currently in possession of a cargo ship full of our product. We can’t go for the jugular… yet.

“Whatever skeletons he’s hiding, we will unearth them. But we better have solid proof before we go to Maxim. He’s got enough shit on his plate, and we can’t fuck with this deal unless what we have is ironclad.”

“Whatever it is, I guarantee you it’s shady as fuck.”

“No arguments here,” I agree. “Let’s get eyes on him. See what he’s really up to.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Pavel vows.

We say goodbye, and I turn to face my reflection in the window, straighten out the lapels, and run my hand down the pant legs, smoothing out any creases in the tux.

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