Page 80 of Filthy Little Games

I can’t believe that I wasted so much time watching all the Rovina Brooklyn properties first, when I should’ve started with the one closest to me.

When the group walks into Marcus Garvey Park, I have Aldo park the SUV on the side of the road. I climb out to get a closer look even though it’s risky.

But I’m glad I did it a moment later. I would’ve hated to miss seeing the tiny girl, bouncing around like she’s a rabbit. When the brunette gives her a container of bubbles, she runs over and blows them right into one of the guard’s faces with a giggle.

She’s a little troublemaker like her mother, and I already know I’d protect her with my life.

I make sure to zoom in and take photos and videos to show Zara and confirm it’s her daughter, even though I’m almost certain.

For the next hour, I watch the girl play until they leave, heading back toward the apartment while I return to the SUV.

Aldo follows the group, and we watch them disappear inside. “We’re going to do this tonight.”

“Tonight?” he repeats in surprise.

“I’ll ask Dre and Tristan to help us.”

“Just those two?”

“Yes. Just those two. Four of us are more than enough to draw attention. We’ll go inside in pairs and take out the guards. We’ll need to wear Kevlar vests under long coats, gloves, and hats to make sure we’re not identified on any cameras.”

“You got a plan on how to handle the four guards and two women?”

I’ve considered this potential scenario for weeks now. “Stun gun batons. They won’t be easy to procure, but I want gunfire to be a last resort. Not only are they loud and messy, but I don’t want to hurt or terrify the girl. If she screams and fights on the way out, it’ll draw too much attention. If we go late enough, hopefully, she’ll be asleep, and we’ll catch the guards dozing.”

We don’t know for certain what the inside of the apartment looks like or if there are more than four guards. But that’s a risk we’re going to have to take. I can’t postpone in case Emilio decides to move her somewhere else. And I can’t put this reunion off for Zara any longer either.

That’s another reason why I haven’t touched my wife since the night on the roof.

I don’t want Zara to fuck me as repayment for anything, especially not for returning her daughter to her. I’m just trying to righta wrong by the Rovinas. What they did to Zara was evil. How could anyone think she’d be anything other than a loving mother, giving the girl a safe and happy home?

It’s something that I’ve gone without most of my life. There’s no amount of money or power that can buy love. Not the real kind that Zara has for Oriana.

It’s the unconditional, unwavering love I’ve started to feel for Zara, even if it will never be returned.

I can’t keep her. I won’t. Because of Emilio, Zara and her daughter could only remain in New York locked up like prisoners.

I’m going to kill that son of a bitch one of these days, but until then, Zara is going to get the peace she deserves.

Zara

Creed returns home earlier tonight than usual. Once again, I’m lazing around his penthouse after spending the day doing nothing. It was nice to not have any obligations at first, to not have to go into work and stand on my feet for twelve hours. But lately, I’ve been getting so damn depressed. I need something to do. An actual purpose.

I go meet him in the foyer, happy to see him, to have his company again. “Hey.” I miss him when he walks out the door every day after we have breakfast together.

He dismisses his watchmen before turning to me. “Hey. I’ve got something to show you.” He gives me a kiss and takes my hand, guiding me back to the sofa. It’s one of the rare times when he’s actually touched me.

I thought that things would change between us after our date on the rooftop, but Creed still refuses to make a move at night or in the morning before we get up and share the only meal of the day together. It’s frustrating to want him so much and not have the sentiment returned.

If anything, Creed seems to have pulled away even more after the night on the roof as if he didn’t enjoy it and didn’t care for a repeat. And there haven’t been any occasions of him kneeling between my legs lately either.

“Here.” He offers me his phone. “There are photos and videos. Just keep scrolling until you’ve seen them all.”

“Okay.” I accept the device, wondering what he’s found, and assume it’s something that connects Emilio to the raid.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The first photo is a zoomed in image of Oriana, grinning from ear to ear and standing in what looks like a park.

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