Page 4 of Savage Ruin
Relieved, I motion for him to enter. “Please, I need to ask for a favor.”
He chuckles. Coming into the room, he sets down a beautiful vase of flowers.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call,” Grayson spits out. He strides jerkily from the room, anger rolling off him in waves.
Zane’s observant eyes pivot from him to me. “Everything okay? I can come back later.”
“The usual,” I reply, waving a hand vaguely in the air, not wanting to admit to the constant friction between Grayson and me. “They’re beautiful! Did you know tulips were my favorite?” I beam at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but I must confess to having an ulterior motive,” he says mysteriously. “Last time I saw you, you mentioned a dance and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since.”
I lean closer and grin. “I’m not sure if anyone told you yet, but I’m CJ Tech.”
Pure shock crosses his face, followed by relief. “No, they didn’t,” he replies with a chuckle. “But they may not be aware of why it would be good for me to know. Marcos kept your donations to the charity a secret. Are you going to continue to support the charity or is that the last donation?”
“Not only am I going to keep giving my annual twenty-five percent, but I’ll be donating Marcos’ share, too. I inherited all his projects, and it’s what he would want,” I assure him. “Although, at some point, his projects will be zero unless I can find a secret stash of them somewhere.”
“I might be able to help with that,” Mateo interjects, walking into the room. “In the will, he left me his old notebook full of ideas. I wasn’t sure what to do with it except treasure it because it was his, but now I know.”
Excitement burns through me, and my mind races at the possible ideas he might have written down. It’s like finding gold.
Mateo shakes his head at my reaction, but I see the matching gleam in his eyes.
“Regarding the two hundred and fifty thousand I paid for the auction tickets to get into the ball, I want to be sure it counts toward my share for this year,” I state firmly, holding Zane’s stare to let him know I’m serious.
He narrows his eyes, desperate to refuse. “Fine, fine, I know there will be more coming,” he agrees grumpily.
“Also, I’ll continue supplying the documentation and IDs needed for the rescues,” I assure him. “It’s important they have the necessary paperwork, along with quality fakes that hold up to scrutiny.”
He chuckles. “Slick will be thrilled. He was dreading the responsibility,” he says, only half-joking. “Anything else?”
“Nope, that’s it,” I retort with a cheeky grin. “Unless you want to dance?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Thiago states firmly from the doorway. “Where did the flowers come from?”
“Zane brought them. Aren’t they gorgeous? Tulips are my favorite,” I reply with a smile. “Unfortunately, he’s only being nice to try and wrangle more money out of me.” I chuckle at the expression of pained exasperation on Zane’s face.
“Why don’t I walk you out and you can explain,” Thiago suggests to Zane, his mouth set in a firm line.
“Thanks a lot,” Zane fires over his shoulder as he leaves with Thiago.
Grayson comes back.
Thiago steps into the room a few minutes later, his eyes filled with guilt, and I immediately freeze.
All three Santos men at once. This can’t be good. “Why are all three of you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it’s kind of suspicious.”
“Why didn’t you tell us you gave twenty-five percent of CJ Tech’s earnings to the Santos Foundation?” Thiago asks gruffly.
“Because it has nothing to do with you. What I do with my money is my business. I believe in the mission, and it’s better than paying taxes to the government,” I tell him, firmly closing the subject.
“You sound so much like Marcos sometimes, it’s uncanny,” Thiago admits with a heavy sigh. “We need to talk to you about the day we rescued you from Diego.”
“Or we can wait until I’m feeling better. After I recuperate, I’ll return, and I promise we’ll sit down and discuss everything. The doctor said I need at least a week to heal, although I’m thinking two might be better, and I found a luxurious recovery center in Naples that fits all the requirements. They have an awesome menu, a view of the ocean, and medical staff. It’s perfect.” My voice trails off when I see Thiago shaking his head.
“Naples is out. It’s not safe,” he informs me. He shifts uncomfortably against the wall.
My fingers trace the welts on my wrist. They seem to be a little lighter today. More pinkish red, instead of the angry red they were two days ago. The soft pads of my fingers trail over the raised areas where the restraints bound my wrists together behind my back. At least I can feel things now. I can’t help but rub the tips of my fingers, remembering how numb they were that day.
