Page 31 of Devious Secrets

“They were supposed to send drop-off instructions, but she didn’t get them.” I take a breath. “When I took her back to her place tonight to get the note, her apartment had been turned over,” I explain.

“Turned over? You think the person behind this did it?” Kaz asks.

“No.” I put my drink down and grip the edge of my desk as I lean back against it. “I think Marco DeAngelo’s men did it.”

“Marco DeAngelo?” Ivan’s jaw tightens. “That Italian fuck who sells that laced shit on the streets?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. That’s his main money, but in this case, it’s his loan business that’s got her in a mess,” I explain.

“He lent her money?” Kaz questions. “How much?”

“She owes seventy-five grand.”

“What did she need with that kind of money?” Ivan questions.

“Not sure yet.” I will have my answers by morning, though. “But she says credit card debt.”

I grab my drink, wishing it could give me some relief from the stress of the day. But the little burn from the brandy is nothing compared to the irritation and lust I’m fighting, thanks to that black-haired pixie with the most unusual white streaks sulking upstairs.

I should tie her to my bed and take my belt to her ass again for being such a damn distraction.

Just thinking of it only makes my cock hard again.

“So she hasn’t given you much in the way of answers?” Ivan grins, the bastard.

“You think this is funny.”

He nods.

“I think it’s amusing, yes. Alexander Volkov hasn’t been able to squash a simple problem like this within twenty-four hours?” He chuckles. “Where is she now?”

“Where do you think?” I ask with a heavy sigh.

“In your bed?” Kaz winks.

“No.” I clench my teeth. “She’s upstairs. I came down to get you two up to speed and find out what happened with Dexter. Now that I have, I’ll deal with her and get this whole fucking thing resolved.”

“Hmmm.” Kaz gets to his feet. “I’m sure it will be that easy.”

I shove off the desk. “You two can see yourselves out.”

I grit my teeth. They’re right. I should have had this wrapped up. I’ve let her get away too long without giving me all the answers she has wrapped up in her little mind.

If she had been a man, she wouldn’t be tucked into a warm bed tonight. She’d be hanging from the ceiling in the pit.

I’ve been too soft.

I climb the stairs, flexing and clenching my hands.

That ends.

She’s going to tell me exactly why she borrowed that money from the DeAngelo family. And she’s going to retrace every fucking step she took since she found that letter on her desk.

The lights in the hallway are dimmed, but I see the bedroom door clearly, and my resolve is set as stone.

No more half answers.

She will tell me everything and I will fix this fucking problem and get back to my fucking life.

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