Page 5 of Twisted Obsession
I pinched my thumb and index finger together and then spread them apart across the screen to make the picture of the woman staring back at me larger.
“How could I ever forget?”Those beautiful green eyes. The minute she walked into my club, her eyes captivated me. It was then I knew I had to have her. “It was the night we were calledaway because someone had murdered my father. I will never forget that night.”
“She might be a friend of Larissa Zhukov,” he replied. “It’s a long shot, but it’s the only clue we’ve had in three years. The other woman in the picture is Chloe Adams. She used a fake ID to get into Raptor.
“Did you find out Chloe’s friend’s name?” I asked, assuming her ID was fake as well.
“I was able to pull the CCTV footage from the entrance where Jacob was checking IDs.” Stepan downed the rest of his vodka and pushed to the edge of his chair. “The name on her ID was Sara Jones. She lives on Brooklyn Street. I thought maybe you would like to check it out.”
“What do you think?” I shot back. “You know, you could have led with that instead of pissing me off.”
“Nah. What fun would that be?”
~***~
We pulled up to 572 Brooklyn Street in Brooklyn forty minutes later in my Lamborghini Temerario. I could have driven one of the SUVs, but just like Stepan’s attitude toward me, I liked pissing him off. It wasn’t a pretty sight watching his big frame squeeze into the front seat. I was by no means a small man, but Stepan was a beast at six-foot-six and two hundred seventy pounds.
As I looked out the windshield, already I could tell this trip was a waste of time. It appeared no one had lived in this housefor a very long time—much longer than three years. But since we were here, we might as well take a look.
“You aren’t seriously thinking about going inside that death trap,” Stepan asked as I killed the engine and opened the door.
“Let’s go,plaksa, crybaby.” I never knew Stepan to be afraid of anything. Not even a run-down abandoned house.
The unlocked front door made it easy to enter the house. I realized, even before entering, that this wasn’t an abandoned house, contrary to our belief. The further we walked inside, it became clear that this home was the residence of the less fortunate. Men and women, dressed in months-old clothes and appearing strung out on drugs or alcohol, occupied every corner of the house, lying on beds narrower than a single bed. Just like New York City, Brooklyn wasn’t immune to their share of homeless people.
It was clear this place wasn’t going to give us the answers we were looking for. Just when we were ready to leave, a deep voice sounded behind us.
“You two looking for something? Cause you certainly don’t belong here.” A black man approached us, looking more civilized than any of the other occupants of the house.
Nodding at Stepan, I signaled for him to show the stranger the picture of Sara Jones. As he held his cell out, I watched the stranger’s expression for any sign that he might have seen her or known her.
“What do you want with her? I don’t want any trouble,” he looked between Stepan and me, waving his hands in front of him in a cross pattern.
“All we want to know is if you have seen her,” I said, willing to beat it out of him if I had to.
“I’ve seen her,” he began. “It’s been a while. She was only here for a couple of months and then left. Not sure where she went. Not even sure if she’s still alive.”
“How long ago?” I asked as I signaled for Stepan to search the rest of the house.
“Years, two, maybe three. Couldn’t say for sure. My mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be,” he admitted. “Like I said. She was only here a couple of months and then she left.”
Something told me that he knew a lot more than what he was telling us. The way he looked at Sara’s picture told me he had seen her more recently than he was letting on.
“She’s not here, Boss,” Stepan interrupted my conversation as he moved past the stranger.
Giving the black man one last look, I warned between gritted teeth, “You better hope you aren’t lying, because if I find out you are, you’re going to wish you never met me.” I took one last look around before stalking out the front door with Stepan close behind.
“I want someone watching this shithole 24/7. That old fucker is lying,” I commanded as we headed back to my car.
“You really think she would come back here?” he asked, questioning my authority.
“Just do it.” I gave him a knowing stare, which told him never to question me again.
Instead of returning to the imposing Antonov mansion, I steered my car toward Raptor. It was the sanctuary where I found solace, a place where I could escape the lure of regrettable actions. My mind needed clarity, and the only way to achieve that was by spending time with one of my caged birds—a temporary reprieve from the chaos within. My littlekanareyka, Ginger, might have appeared as an innocent yellow canary in her little bird cage, but when it came to pleasing me, she transformed into a fiery black raven. Her jet-black hair cascaded like midnight silk, and her dark brown eyes smoldered with a captivating intensity. Despite her artificial enhancements—her voluptuous breasts, exaggerated lips, and surgically enhanced curves—she possessed a body that many women would envy, a figure sculpted to perfection. She wasn’t my usual preference, but she offered a satisfying escape, an experience that never failed to clear my troubled mind.
I carefully parked my sleek, silver Lamborghini in the secluded back lot, where I knew it would be safe from being vandalized, or worse, stolen. The luxury vehicle gleamed under the dim lights, its polished surface reflecting the shadows of the night. Beside me, Stepan’s demeanor shifted noticeably, his face lighting up with anticipation. He never passed up a chance to accompany me to Raptor, the club that pulsated with life and energy. His interest was more than just the vibrant atmosphere; he had been captivated by Amber, one of the waitresses, ever since she joined the team six months ago. Amber was excellent at her job—punctual, diligent, and always prepared. Her striking beauty and professionalism made her one of my top employees.
As I strode into the club, the rhythmic beats of music enveloped me, and I immediately felt Ginger’s gaze lock onto me. Her eyes followed my every movement, a mix of curiosity and expectation shimmering in their depths. I wasn’t quite surewhat direction she imagined our relationship was heading, but tonight I intended to clarify things. Relationships, especially with employees, were something I avoided. She knew this from the start, yet perhaps it was time for a gentle reminder of our boundaries.
