Page 53 of Gamble with Me
Two months ago, I didn't know anything about them. Shit, I didn't know they existed. However, what I discovered was disturbing and, for every sane person, frightening.
According to the Independent News, they were psychopaths obsessed with power and money. They were highly intelligent and effective in their efforts. Zyon was a known mob boss. Police held him accountable for multiple crimes, but he always slipped away. There was always a loophole that provided an escape.
And it was the same with Malin, Dorian, and Ramzan. Malin was a suspect in a dozen unsolved murders that were full of torture and mutilation, while Dorian would be an accomplice in those crimes. Yet again, the investigation proved nothing, and they walked out of the police station with broad smiles.
The only one who ended up behind bars was their youngest brother, Ramzan, who was in prison in Russia. I couldn't find anything about his case, but considering Zyon hadn't gotten him out, it meant he had committed some severe crime.
Could there be someone equally powerful as them who wanted to get rid of them? It would explain attacks on Zyon and my husband's bold statement about killing him if he tried to interfere in our marriage. It was a long shot, but something told me my thinking was accurate. Chester was in a silent war with Zyon, and I was in the middle.
But did Zyon or his brothers know about my husband? Did they employ me to get leverage on him?
My thoughts and questions made me laugh while waiting at the red light. Chester didn't care for me. He couldn't bear the idea of me leaving him. His ego wouldn't survive it, but other than that, I was nothing to him. My past experiences with his new self confirmed it.
Before, he at least pretended to be in love with me. After an argument, he brought me flowers or a gift, but since he forced me to return, it felt like he was punishing me for leaving. He didn't hit me, yet his behavior suggested he was furious with me.
I didn't care about his moods, feelings, or forgiveness, but living with him was more challenging every day. I didn't want Zara to experience our constant fights. I didn't want to be afraid around him because I didn't know what he might do. It was like walking on pins and needles. He could snap at any moment.
I got out of my car before the casino's front entrance. The security gave me my card so I didn't have to use the hidden back door.
In the distance, I noticed Zyon or one of his brothers talking with someone before the fireplace where we had dinner. But when I came closer, he quickly disappeared inside. I didn't know if it was Zyon, Malin, or Dorian, but it was weird. They never avoided me.
Dorian always looked like an excited puppy when he met me, and Malin, even with his emotionless face, seemed okay with exchanging some polite phrases. Not to mention that Zyon sometimes circled me like the planet Earth circled the sun.
Shaking my head at their strange manners, I prepared for my shift. Everything was in perfect order, exactly as I left it two and a half days ago.
The place was packed to the brim. There wasn't an empty slot machine, and the roulette tables were full. The blackjack tables had a waiting list, and the poker tournament had three hundred players. I had my hands full keeping things under control, and I thanked God for amazingly trained employees. They ensured the games went smoothly while I had to deal with a massive pile of paperwork.
For the entire night, none of the Zhumagulovs showed up. I asked the security guard if they were inside, but the only reply was a shrug. I saw Jamal hurrying to the back around midnight, but nothing suggested the bosses were present.
At three o'clock in the morning, I packed my things, ready to leave, when the security guy brought me another paper to sign.
"It's from the accountant, Mrs. Kellerman," he explained when I rolled my eyes tiredly. "Mr. Zee had it in his office but forgot to give it to you."
"So, he sent you?" I raised a brow, for the first time feeling a chance to get some information about Zyon's whereabouts.
"No, Jamal sent me," the bodyguard replied, handing me the paper. "He said that without this, you won't get your paycheck on time."
Taking the page from him, my eyes checked the document. At the bottom was the dotted line for my signature and the other for Zyon. But what caught my attention was his name.
Zyon Z. Zhumagulov
I didn't find anything about his middle name. Considering his father was Russian, I presumed he didn't have one. Yet the letter Z smiled at me from the paper, igniting the fire of doubts in my chest.
"Do you know Zyon's middle name?" I asked, lifting my gaze to the bodyguard standing at the threshold, who frowned at me.
"No, Mrs. Kellerman. We all call him Mr. Zee," he answered, his brows furrowed. "Why?"
"I'm just curious." I waved my hand nonchalantly with a wide smile on my face. However, my mind was on alert. Could the name hidden behind the letter Z be Zefarin?
I returned home exhausted from the demanding job and constantly thinking about my stalker. I typed the message to him a few times but never found the courage to send it. He respected my wish; he left me alone, and I didn't know how to tell him that I needed him in my life without sounding desperate and stupid.
Finding Chester sleeping in our bedroom with Zara beside him, I showered and lay on my daughter's bed. For the first time since we came back, I felt prepared to sleep. Maybe it was because of fatigue, or perhaps it was because my husband was in another room.
Anyway, I pressed the phone against my chest and curled into the ball under the cover, trying to find some bravery to send the short message. Eventually, I rolled my eyes at my foolishness and pressed the button, anxiously awaiting the reply.
Valeria: I miss you.
Nothing. Ten minutes passed, and he didn't write back. Tears burned in my eyes as I got up and stood before the window, looking outside at the empty street. Somehow, I hoped to see him there. He should've been outside, staring at my window, but he wasn't there. My heart almost broke with the realization of probably never seeing him again.
