Page 109 of Cruel Promise

“I need to find her body, Nik. I just need to.” She wrings her hands together. “I know you’re a powerful man. Surely, you can look around. See what you can find?”

She looks so innocent and sad at this moment. I know my answer before I even say it.

“Of course, I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you,” she breathes out.

I smile and head into my room.

I just lied to my wife.

Ever since Ava’s mom’s body went missing, I’ve been looking into it; Ava didn’t have to ask me to.

But I hadn’t found anything—not until today. Which is why I went to New Haven to pick her up.

Keeping quiet, I head back downstairs to my office. My intention was to tell Ava, but instead, I got distracted by Jason and his fucking hands on her and then my hands were on her, and I just pushed it from my mind.

Honestly, I’m glad I didn’t tell Ava what I’d planned to tell her.

I unlock one of the drawers in my desk and pull out a burner phone I use for anything I don’t want associated with myself.

I turn the phone on and stare down at the picture of the woman who looks so similar to Ava.

Camille, Ava’s mother.

I was sent this photo by one of my guards, who took a picture of Camille just a day ago. Walking down the street. Huddling inside a jacket.

Ava’s mother is alive.

And I didn’t immediately tell Ava about it because then she’d leave me. She’d run right back to her mother and want nothing to do with me.

I’m not sure how Camille survived or where she’s been these past weeks. I just know she’s alive, and I need to tell Ava. I was going to tell her until I got distracted.

Iamgoing to tell her. I have to.

I just have no idea how, and the fact I contemplated not telling Ava atallproves just how much of a monster I am.

I turn the phone off and set it back in my desk. It can stay in there a little while longer.

Chapter

Fifteen

NIKOLAI

The bar is dirty and worn down and needs a paint job bad. But it’s a moneymaker for me. Mostly, the owner, Groban, makes me a lot of money from it by constantly needing loans from me, which he then has to pay back.

I bypass a lonely drunk man at the counter and the sad-looking bartender and head to the back office.

It’s somehow even dirtier than the rest of the bar.

“Groban,” I say, startling the skinny man seated at his desk.

“Nikolai. Uh, hi.”

I start to lean against the doorframe and then think better of it. Stains cover practically every inch of this place. “My money, Groban. It’s due today.”

He starts clawing through the papers on his desk. “But I thought I had until next week.”

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