Page 52 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“Who told you all of this? Was it Phelps? The prick wouldn’t even take my calls. What’s this about?” Annie grumbles, crossing her arms. Judging her is finished and it’s time to move on to the next stage of this conquest.

“Mrs. Knowles, I need information from you. In exchange for that information, I will pay off Henry’s debt. That’s all you need to know. And it stays between the two of us. You’ll never get a sweeter deal than this, I’m sure you’re aware.”

I can almost hear the wheels in her head turning, screeching loudly until she reaches the inevitable conclusion. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you leave Matthew Phelps’s campaign? What happened?”

Her jaw drops. “Oh. No, I can’t talk about that.”

“The Meridian Observer published a story about it,” I continue, watching her closely. “They promised a follow-up with more details, having already done an interview with you at the time. But then they were bought and shut down. Said interview never saw the light of day, and you signed a non-disclosure agreement in the meantime. Shortly afterward, you moved here. I have eyes, Mrs. Knowles. I can see what happened. I just need to know the whole story.”

“No. You just said it. I signed an NDA. I can’t break it. They’ll sue me. They’ll ruin me.”

“But Henry will be debt free and no longer in danger of losing his life. Isn’t that a price worth paying? Your son’s life? Because we both know Rooker will start cutting body parts off that boy until he’s paid.”

“Can’t you talk to his boss?” Annie asks, growing increasingly desperate. There must be quite the conflict unraveling inside of her. “Can’t you give Henry more time?”

“Why would I talk to Paul or anyone else about your son’s misfortunes? The only way I help you is if you help me.”

She’s reached the dead end that she’s been dreading. It’s written all over her face in tiny pearls of sweat. “That stupid boy,” she mumbles, closing her eyes for a moment. “He did it. He fucking ruined me.”

“I think you ruined yourself with your lack of foresight. Henry’s problem didn’t emerge overnight,” I say. “Anyway, these are the terms of the deal I’m offering. Henry’s life and physical integrity in exchange for information.”

“Mr. Sokolov, you have to understand, that NDA—”

“Was signed after you gave the interview with Meridian. I just want the content of the interview. That’s all.”

Annie blinks several times. For a moment, she looks relieved. But then another bout of despair takes over. “I don’t have the tapes. I don’t have a transcript, I don’t have anything. They destroyed every single document and recording at Meridian after they were bought out. I know, because I tried to get copies when I heard about the takeover. I needed an insurance policy.”

“Why?”

“Because Matthew’s fixer was waiting for me to sign that fucking NDA and take his dirty money, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I figured I could cover my ass somehow, but it didn’t work. I had no choice but to sign and take the cash.”

“You sound real broken up about it,” I reply flatly.

Her lips twist with bitter contempt. “You had no idea what I went through, what I had to deal with. I was a single mother, living from paycheck to paycheck. I believed Matthew when he promised me the fucking world, when he…. No, I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m done covering Henry’s ass. I have to sell the house, he’s on his own.”

“He’s your son,” I insist. “Rooker won’t forgive him.”

She’s crying now. Struggling not to, but the tears flow freely, anxiously down her overly tanned cheeks. “I did the best I could.”

“Mrs. Knowles, you need to understand something. No matter what you do or say, even what you don’t do or don’t say, somebody is going to get hurt. If you help me, I promise that Henry won’t be the one, and that you’ll have something to fall back on.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can throw in an extra couple hundred grand to make your life easier. But if you keep saying no today, Henry will get hurt, and so will you,” I say, leaning back into my seat.

Finally, her shoulders drop in shameful defeat. “I could tell you a lot of things about Matthew Phelps, but I wouldn’t be able to prove it. He was rather good at covering his tracks over the years, even when I was working for him. But I heard rumors through the grapevine while I was trying to reach out to him recently.”

“Rumors?”

“Yes. That’s he’s getting a little too close to one of his aides. Shelby something,” Annie says, and I catch a hint of bitterness in her voice. I know the Shelby working for Phelps that she’s talking about. Lyric’s best friend. “And if I know Matthew, I’ll say this—when he gets close to someone, when he gets intimate, he lets his guard down. There’s plenty of incriminating material in his private study. You’ll know it when you find it. But you have to find it first. And if the Shelby thing is real, she can tell you where it is.”

“Look at you, singing like a little bird,” I reply with a cocky grin.

“I can’t breach that NDA, Mr. Sokolov. I’m afraid of those people. If my life sucks now, it’ll suck even worse if they find out I’m talking to you. Please, understand.”

“No, no, I get it,” I say.

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