Page 18 of Trapping His Darling

“Yes, yes,” he stuttered. “I have the key right here, sir.” The rank smell of his sweat was overpowering his cheap cologne. “My condolences for your man,” he offered as he led the way. “The neighborhood is obviously shocked.”

Nodding, I followed him silently, my hand on my gun in case he had any ideas.

Once her door was opened, I threw a few bills his way. “For your trouble and your silence.” My warning tone wasn’t to be taken lightly. “Leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” he murmured. “As always, I am happy to help where I can.”

Most of the residents knew the Bratva ran things in this area. We were essentially the authorities here, as the police were on our payroll.

“Sir,” the nervous man said, turning back. “Tiffany, I mean the tenant, is a young, sweet woman. American. She is new, and might not know…” he trailed off. “I just thought you should know.”

I narrowed my gaze. “She will learn soon enough,” I responded quietly.

The landlord nodded, looking a little sad, and walked away, leaving me to investigation.

I went through her small home, which smelled of flowers and citrus, and hints of vanilla. Everything seemed innocent enough at a glance. Tidy. Just a young woman’s home. She seemed to enjoy plants. Studying botany. Lots of books. She had a still set up to collect hydrosol and volatile oils.

I started in her bathroom. Rummaging through her personal belongings revealed no secrets. I checked her cabinets for hidden compartments. I didn’t even find anything in the toilet’s water tank, where many hid money… or stolen wallets, perhaps.

I left the bathroom and strolled through the small space. The kitchen, living room, and dining room were one and the same. It was curious to me how some were destined to have much, and others so little. Having grown up wealthy, it was hard to fathom that her whole apartment was smaller than my bedroom alone.

Speaking of bedrooms…

At first glance, hers was a normal one. Bed. Dresser. Nothing out of the ordinary. The wardrobe revealed she was organized. Clothes hung up and shoes lined on racks. But a glint of light caught my eye from a break between her dresses and her blouses. I pulled the clothes back, which revealed a small,inconspicuous shelf hidden in the back. Rather than purses and jewelry, jars lined the space. Most seemed to be filled with liquids. Essential oils, perhaps. But the shelf below displayed shriveled items. Mushrooms, maybe. But then…

I grabbed a jar and looked at the floating appendage inside. Sliced clean off and preserved. Rage rushed through my veins, and I allowed the jar to drop to the ground and shatter. As much as I wanted to be furious that she killed one of my men, I found I was more pissed that she might have fucked him first.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I suppressed my temper. It didn’t matter who came before me. They were irrelevant now. She wouldn’t be fucking anyone else ever again.

Strange, I mused, how I came to make such a decision. It was only a photo. It was only a jar with an organ in it. So why did I need to possess this woman, whom I’d never met, especially when I had no desire to marry?

I left her bedroom to return to the common space. In the kitchen, I peeked in drawers and cabinets. Her pantry did not consist of food. Rather, she had shelves of flora and fungi that preferred low to no light, some in jars, some in pots.

Lucky for me, she had tools of her trade nearby; like baggies, gloves, and scissors. I clipped a few plants in the back so it wouldn’t be seen. I would send them off to the lab for testing.

I pocketed my samples and strolled through her indoor garden. The most well-used books, with pages marked, seemed to have something unusual in common:Toxicity.

Once I brought her home, I would make sure she had the best personal conservatory money could buy.

Yesterday, I would have never contemplated such a thing; an abduction to secure a prisoner in a gilded cage. My mom haunted me as it was, and I had no desire to deal with the mechanisms and manipulations of women.

But now I could see how I was my father’s son. I was selfish, greedy, and not a good man. I would find a way to possess what I wanted, by any means necessary. That was how I imagined my mother in relation to my father. He locked her away. But regardless of how they felt about each other, she was his, and my father kept what was his.

And though how I felt made little sense to a man like me, Tiffany would be mine.

I departed just as discreetly as I had arrived, stopping to grab a pair of panties from her laundry on my way out. I pocketed them. A faint smile graced my lips.

CHAPTER NINE

Viktor

Upon returning home,I contemplated taking a quick dip in the lake. However, my respite was short-lived as Roger approached me the moment I parked the car.

“Sir, your father wishes to see you in his office,” he informed me.

I nodded and proceeded in that direction.

“You went out alone?” he queried. “No men?”

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