Page 31 of Isle of Seduction

“He beat up a man who insulted me and then he kissed me.”

“You can take the man out of the mafia, but not the mafia out of the man, apparently. Isn’t that dangerous for his career?”

“Oh no, I threatened the man not to talk,” I say flippantly, my lips curving up at the reminder of our little altercation with Carmichael. We probably looked like two angels of retribution.

“Madre di Dio, you guys are a match made in heaven.”

“Or Hell,” I retort.

“What’s the problem, then? Tell me the truth. He beat up a guy who insulted you, gave you an orgasm, what an awful man. What are you so scared of?”

“He’s a made man, babe. You know how they are. He’ll use me, then discard me.”

“I do know how they are. Are you saying Julian, our best friend, is a manipulative asshole? Are you saying my husband is?”

“No, but…”

“G, I get that you’re scared but not everyone is like your ex, or your father. I don’t know Andrea and you know I’ll jump on the first plane to come murder him if he hurts you, but for better or worse, for the next five years, he’s your husband. With what you’re telling me, he’s not that bad.”

“That’s exactly the problem, babe.”

For the next half hour, my best friend calms me down with the rationality of the general that she is. She suggests I find something to do outside of being the wife of a prominent politician on the rise, to keep myself occupied.

For the past three weeks, my days have been filled with Andrea, and helping his career, and now I need to add looking for Xan’s murderer to the list of things I do for Andrea. I need something that’s just for me.

I get out of my room and sit down at the kitchen counter next to Nico, who’s working from the cottage today. Being in Andrea’s office, surrounded by his scent, is too much for me right now. I’m just the accessory he needs to achieve his goals and as much as I want to help him with uncovering who the true Parker Addams is, the seeds I planted at the fundraiser aren’t gonna grow in a day.

We have to be patient and wait for my new friends to come to me with the gossip.

There isn’t anything I could find about Xan’s potential killer. We saw each other only a handful of times when I lived in London, but they didn't deserve to die like this.

Andrea, West Hill Police and I all have the same information. They were strangled in the early morning five days ago, the night of the fundraiser, probably at their house in London then moved here in West Hill, two hours away.

Who would go to such length?

I need to find new avenues of information.

After our studies, when Lana was in Mallorca and I lived on Kalliste with my family, I started buying spaces to build private clubs. They’ve always been amazing places to gather intel on anyone who mattered on Kalliste.

Without meaning to, my fingers search for properties for sale out in West Hill. I’m surprised the Capaldis don’t have a finger in the night entertainment industry. West Hill is a booming city with no real opportunities for nightlife. It’s a huge miss in the market.

“Nico?”

He grunts. His own kind of response.

“Would you take me downtown this afternoon?”

“Sure.”

I’m surprised he doesn’t ask questions, but considering he never does, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s just a strange feeling not to have to fight to have things done around here. A girl could get used to this.

A phone call and a name drop later, Nico and I stand in the parking lot of a property that’s been on the market for more than two months. Located in a booming neighbourhood with easy connections to the financial district and the suburbs, it’s prime real estate.

An agent shows us the space, and my mind immediately conjures up the potential. The first floor is about 10,000 square feet and could easily house a dancefloor, a decent bar and multiple podiums for dancers, as well as private booths. The second floor is about two thirds of that space with a balcony overlooking the ground floor, and I already imagine people peering under them at dancers while hosting private games of whatever strikes their fancy.

“It needs some work,” the agent hesitates.

“It’s perfect.”

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