Page 5 of Trapping His Assassin

I quickly took charge of the situation.

Without another word, I pushed myself out of my chair and followed her out of the office, my heart racing with worry for my injured dancer, and figuring out which client she’d seen last.

I escorted her down to the VIP area at a sprint, knowing if she’d interrupted my time in the office, it was life or death. There was an elevator for only me to use. That way I could surprise visit the floors at any time, and they would hardly have any warning.

We ran to the purple room. The door swung open revealing one of my girls, Angel, lying off the bed, a rivulet of blood pouring out of her chest.

“Fuck!” Anatoly joined us, running toward her and started covering her wound.

“She’s been stabbed a lot,” Kira bemoaned, grabbing some more of the blankets to help staunch the blood flow.

We couldn’t call the police. Not yet, anyway, but I did text Alexie and call the doctor. It had been months before Alexie had found a doctor willing to work for him. He needed someone he could manipulate. Dr. London Mcknight was the perfect woman for the job. Swimming in debt, her medical practice failing, it took only a little pressure and she was under our thumb.

I forced her to live on-site, and made her travel with us, in case we needed her. Couldn’t have our doctor falling into the wrong hands, and ending up spilling secrets. It took her a few minutes to arrive, but once she did, she cleared the room. She needed time alone with her patient. She only had one nurse with her, so I left a few soldiers in case she needed any supplies.

“I guess we’ve got to wait until she wakes up to question her, hey, boss?” Anatoly joked.

I shook my head and ushered him back into my office. I clicked a few buttons on my desktop and new screens came down. This was something only I had access to; the cameras in all of the rooms in the VIP area. No way would I allow any of my men to watch what happened when the doors closed.

That was a tragedy waiting to happen. Either they would be too distracted to see something on the main cameras, or they’d do something nefarious with the footage. I wouldn’t take the risk, nor would I allow my clients’ privacy to be breached like that.

Unless something of this nature were to go down.

An Italian man, clearly intoxicated, followed Angel back to the room on the screen. Once the door closed, I switched to the personal feeds that were in every crevice of the rooms. Including the bathrooms.

He pounced on Angel as soon as they could no longer be viewed by anyone in the hallway. My employee laughed, and tried to get back into the persona that she wore on the floor, but he slapped her across the face. He pushed her on the bed, andeven as I could hear her say no to him, she was also shaking her head, and trying to push him off. Trying to slow him down. Trying to stop him.

Memories from my past came flooding back, as I witnessed this person holding down one of my employees and raping her. When she stopped moving halfway through, he grew frustrated. He wanted the fight. He pulled a knife out and stabbed her in the chest.

But it was the end that was the most chilling to me. While Angel was bleeding out of the stab wounds on her chest, he stabbed inside her vagina, and he took her ass and mouth with his cock, not bothering to clean it off between them. Then he calmly got up, hopped in the shower, put on his clothes, and left.

He never seemed to consider the fact that he would be under constant surveillance every time he set foot in my casino. I had his facial identity pulled up on my computer screen, and ran him through a program that a college friend created for me.

An Italian dignitary, visiting this country for some official bullshit reason. I dug into him deeper, and found out that he routinely went to a popular Italian restaurant in Don Ricci’s territory. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Maybe he was in the casino to have fun, or maybe this was our first sign of trouble. Either way, he wouldn’t be making that flight back to Italy. Not while I was around.

I shook off the bad memories as the plane kept its course to Italy. Anatoly could handle the business while I was gone. I’d already got my house in order, taking care of that Italian fuck, but I had to trust my right hand could handle any issue that cropped up in my absence. I needed to focus on what was happening now. I had a peace summit to get ready for. Hopefully, it didn’t end in bloodshed.

CHAPTER TWO

Valentina Ricci

32 years old, The Academy

“Valentina,the headmaster wants to see you,” one of the secretaries sneered as I passed by the front desk. Her tone was dripping with false politeness, her eyes cold and unwelcoming.

“Of course,” I replied, keeping my voice steady and my expression neutral. Inside, I felt a flicker of irritation, but I buried it deep. I had grown used to their contempt. The jealousy they housed, thinking I got special privileges just because of who my uncle was. But that wasn’t the case, and I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me affected by their hurtful actions.

My damp curls were in disarray, but I couldn’t change them at the moment. I’d just gotten out of the basement after punishment. I didn’t want to see those four walls ever again.

I’d been without water and food for several days. A way to strengthen us, and keep us in line at the same time. For me, it was a punishment. As the only female assassin here, I bore the brunt of Headmaster Mikhail’s anger. He was the only one who knew I was worthless to my uncle. The only person on this staffwho knew the truth. An orphan like me had no love in her world. My parents died, leaving me an orphan stranded in my uncle’s care. He happened to be the Don of the Italian Mafia, so people tended to take advantage.

I made my way on noodle legs to the headmaster’s office, a grandiose room that seemed more suited to a palace than an academy. I knocked on the heavy wooden door, and waited tiredly for the familiar, stern voice to call me in.

“Enter.”

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind me. Headmaster Mikhail, a tall, imposing man with a severe expression, sat behind an ornate desk cluttered with papers and books. His piercing eyes fixed on me, and I met his gaze without flinching.

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