Page 76 of Sweetest Sin
I know this because when Andrey was alive, I had the misfortune of attending a poker game with him. He wanted me to get acquainted with Eric Vanderbilt, who, at the time, was the city manager. I played my part, and I continue to do so now that he’s the mayor and up for reelection soon. But I wouldn’t trust the man as far as I could throw him.
“Eric, how are you?” I ask, sitting next to him.
Matteo glares at the guy to his left, and he gets up, freeing the stool for him.
“Was that necessary?” Eric asks, taking a sip of his scotch.
“About as necessary as you working with Anthony Rothschild,” I say, watching for a reaction that will prove our theory.
But he doesn’t react. He rolls his eyes and sets his drink down, looking over at me. “I already told you, his father and I went way back. He came to me, asking for support to start over,and I offered to back him up for the auction. You made sure he couldn’t bid. End of discussion.”
“When’s the last time you saw Anthony?” Matteo asks, making Eric look at him.
“Not since that day.” He lifts his glass to take a drink, and if I wasn’t looking so closely, I would have missed the way his hand shakes.
He’s nervous … acting guilty.
He downs his drink and stands. “Look, I’m not trying to get in the middle of whatever thug rivalry you guys have going on.” He buttons his jacket, and the thing damn near pops open, thanks to his beer belly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a poker game to get to.”
He walks away, and Matteo’s about to follow, but I shake my head, wanting to see what he does once he’s out of our sight. Mr. Mayor doesn’t know it, but I have men watching him from every angle of the club.
I’m waiting for my guys to send me what they see when a text comes through from Daniil. It’s a picture of Brielle, clearly dressed to go out, and with her is …
“Holy shit.” Matteo whistles, obviously having gotten the same text as me since he’s to be kept abreast of our sister’s whereabouts. “Goddamn, I knew that woman had curves, but?—”
“Not another fucking word,” I bark, staring at the photo of Peyton, dressed in the same damn black dress she wore on our night together.
I would recognize that dress anywhere. Hell, it’s front and center, along with her, every time I get myself off. But it looks slightly different in this picture. Because her body has changed from her pregnancy, it hugs every damn curve on her, and her breasts … fuck, they’re spilling out.
Daniil: Heading to Kings Point. VIP area booked. Meeting Brielle’s friends there.
Me: And my son?
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Matteo laughs, making me realize I replied in the group chat. “You need to be worried about who is going to be seeing Peyton in that tiny fucking dress.”
Daniil: Martha is watching him.
“Let’s go,” I tell Matteo, stalking out of the country club.
“Where are we going?” he asks, amusement laced in his tone.
My phone goes off, and I expect it to be another text from Daniil, but it’s a zoomed-in photo of the mayor texting someone.
Sure enough, it reads,They’re getting suspicious. I’d be careful if I were you.
“He has to be texting Anthony,” Matteo says as we get into my vehicle since I drove us here.
“Anthony isn’t smart enough to pull all this off by himself,” I tell him, starting the car and taking off toward the club. “And he doesn’t have the resources to pay people to do his dirty work. He’s the puppet. But the question is, who is pulling his strings?”
26
Peyton
“Why aren’t you dressed?”
I turn around and sigh. “I am.”
My stuff from my apartment was delivered—and I learned that Dominick had paid to have my lease terminated—but there’s nothing in these boxes meant for going to a club or bar.
