Page 18 of Ruthless Vow

“A gorgeous woman, a great meal, a bottle of fine wine, and a book?” Luca says.

Cass laughs. “I’m on board for three out of the four.”

“What, you don’t want the gorgeous woman?” Luca asks.

I only half listen as they banter. My thoughts are on the Ivanovs. This arms deal doesn’t step on our toes, so I have no reason to feel wary. But when it comes to Mikhail Ivanov, I’m always wary. He’s a wild card. Unpredictable. And as Dante has often said, he’s a piece of shit. He treats everyone like garbage, even his son Nikolai.

Most importantly, he ordered the hit that killed my father.

I’m biding my time, gathering information, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I will annihilate Mikhail Ivanov. But first I will make his operation burn.

He started this war when he had my father killed. But I will end it, in my own way, in my own time.

Revenge is by its very nature an emotional, impulsive response, and given free rein, those emotions can control a man. I am a man who prefers to control my emotions.

After Cass leaves, I turn to Luca and ask, “You need anything else before I leave?”

“Yeah.” He gestures at the laptop on the desk. “There are files on here that are password protected. We need the passwords.”

Those files probably contain information that Nicole has been accruing ever since she started working for my father. Information she has been sharing with whomever is pulling her strings.

“I’ll get the passwords,” I say.

“You find out anything of value while you were down there with her?” Luca asks.

I think of the way Nicole tasted, the sounds she made when I kissed her, the lust that etched her features. “A few things,” I say.

“You know, this hurts. This betrayal. I always liked Nicole,” Luca says. “She’s smart. Funny. Has a sarcastic sense of humor if you listen for it.”

“When the fuck were you listening to Nicole?” I snarl the question at him. She’s funny? Sarcastic? Why the fuck have I never noticed her sense of humor before now?

“Who pissed in your Cheerios? She’s been working for us for years. You think I’ve never spoken with her?” He shoots me a what-the-hell look. “You want me to take a turn with her? See what I can find out?”

The offer isn’t outrageous. Trading off interrogators is something we’ve done often. The presence of more than oneperson increases the pressure, makes the interrogation more intense, overwhelms the subject.

But the thought of Luca or anyone else going near Nicole ignites a possessive rage in my gut that is both unfamiliar and unwelcome. No one touches her. No one but me.

“No,” I tell him flatly.

“Okay.” Again, he shoots me a what-the-hell look.

“Anything else you need?” I ask, struggling to keep my tone neutral.

“Uh, yeah. Just want to let you know that you’re having lunch Friday with the Mayor,” Luca says, glancing at the laptop.

“No,” I shake my head. “Friday lunch I have that meeting with Bennett.” The accountant. “That should already be in there.”

Luca leans closer to the screen.

“It’s not here,” he says.

I round the desk and look over his shoulder. He’s right. The accountant isn’t there. I grunt. I could swear I entered it.

“Okay, confirm the mayor and call Bennett to reschedule,” I say. “What about Giuseppe’s widow? Did you send her something?”

“Done,” Luca says. “Cognac. Remy Martin. The 6-liter bottle. And I sent the white chrysanthemums to the mayor.”

“What? No, Luca, the cognac was for the mayor. The flowers were for the widow. She’s a recovering alcoholic. And white chrysanthemums? They represent death, grief, and mourning. The mayor’s going to think it’s a message. That we plan to ice him.”

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