Page 41 of Twisted Obsession
My spiraling thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the ping of my cell phone, signaling an incoming text.
ALEXEI: Black Audi approaching.
The moment the sleek, black Audi appeared on the horizon, I emerged from my Lamborghini, the air crisp and charged with tension, and stood waiting for it to halt before me.
A man, mirroring my height and build, exited the back passenger door, his movements deliberate and confident. He was clad in a sharply tailored suit and wore dark sunglasses that shielded his eyes. His hair, a deep onyx, was meticulously trimmed on the sides and slicked back precisely. If he believed his appearance would intimidate me, he was sorely mistaken.
When he removed his glasses, a flicker of recognition sparked in my mind as I noticed something familiar about his eyes. They were a vivid, striking, emerald green, identical to Lara’s. This man could only be one person. Slowly, I reached inside my suit jacket, feeling the cool, reassuring weight of my Glock as my fingers brushed against its grip.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Angelo advised smoothly, his voice carrying an ominous certainty as if he possessed knowledge I did not. “I knew you wouldn’t come alone. Neither did I. You will be dead before you pull your weapon from its holster.”
“What is this about, Balestrini?” I demanded, my voice laced with intensity as I fixed him with a steely gaze.
“My sister. I know you have her,” he replied with unnerving calmness. “I want her back, and you want Andrei Zhukov.”
“Lara is my wife. Surprise, brother-in-law,” I confessed, gauging his reaction with careful scrutiny.
“Marriages can be annulled. I know you took her to get revenge for your father’s death. You won’t need her if I hand Andrei over to you.”
I had known the Balestrinis all my life, and their reputation for deceit was well-earned. Trusting one of them now seemed as reckless as ever.
“And how do you propose to do that when he is in hiding?” I inquired, skepticism etched into every word.
“Three years ago, Andrei began hosting a masquerade gala in honor of his deceased wife, Lidia,” he began, spinning a tale that piqued my interest. “No one knows who attends except him. It is by invitation only. He has been doing it in the hopes of drawing out the man who killed her. The guests don’t even know who organizes the gala or the real reason behind it. All they know is that it’s a fundraiser for the Museum of the City of New York.”
The revelation was astonishing, a piece of the puzzle that I had been missing for years. I had been tirelessly hunting that elusive bastard, Andrei, for three long years. Yet, there are only so many fundraisers one can attend. Not once did I think he would be hosting one for his dead wife.
“What are you proposing?” I probed, eager to understand the direction of this unexpected conversation.
“I will get you into the gala. All you have to do is bring Lara, and I will hand Andrei over to you in exchange.”
I wasn’t entirely sure why I had agreed to his terms, yet regardless of my reasons, the outcome remained unchanged—Andrei and Angelo wouldn’t be leaving that gala alive. Just as he was about to pivot and walk away, he had to know his fate.
“You know you are a dead man, Balestrini. Your family will pay for taking mine.”
He halted near the rear door of his sleek, black vehicle. Turning to face me, his expression was a complex blend of sorrow and sincerity. “I’m truly sorry for what happened to your mother and sister,” he said, his voice low and steady, “but I can assure you, the Balestrini Cosa Nostra was not responsible for the tragic events of that day. I know you don’t trust me, and perhaps you never will. But I swear on my mother’s grave, it is the truth.”
What the fuck?I sure as shit didn’t see that coming.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lara
Dmitri was nowhere to be found when I ventured downstairs. I didn’t realize how late it was until I got to the kitchen and saw Marta already preparing lunch. The minute she saw me. I knew something was wrong. She was pissed. Like she knew I had done something, which I had.
“Good morning, Marta,” I said, glancing at the clock on the microwave that indicated it was still morning.
“Breakfast has been over for some time,” she replied sarcastically. “But there are Danishes still left.”
“A Danish sounds wonderful,” I smiled as I walked past her toward the coffeepot.
Marta set a small plate down with a cream Danish in front of me, before pulling it away just to grab my attention. “I knowyou have it. If you don’t want to get both of us into trouble, you will give it back before Dmitri finds out.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about.” I took hold of the plate in one hand and held my cup of coffee in the other. “I think I’ll have my breakfast in the conservatory.”
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Marta knew. She knew what I had done. But the way she talked, it sounded like she would be in as much trouble as me if Dmitri found out I had her phone. Maybe there was a rule about the staff having cell phones on the property. If she asked about it, it also meant she hadn’t found it yet.
