Page 61 of Scorned Beauty
“What did you do to Phil and my cat?” I gritted through the wrenching pain in my belly. I couldn’t stand up straight. Rioting fear replaced my earlier calm. Instinctively, I knew the worst was yet to come.
“They took a tumble down the fire escape.”
A horrified gasp escaped me. That was five floors.
“Don’t worry, the bastard hit the landing midway down the building. I’m not too sure about your cat.”
“Monsters. You’re all monsters.”
“Yeah…luckily Grigori doesn’t want any bruises on your face.” He gripped my chin. “He has plans for you, so ketamine it is.”
A needle pricked my neck.
Chapter
Sixteen
Dom
The phone vibratedin the inside pocket of my tux jacket. I tried to concentrate on the words of the former pakhan of the New York Russian bratva, Ivan Zahkarov. Tonight was the formal turnover to his son, Kirill, the cold-as-ice fucker sitting across from me. I bristled at the way he was eyeing Lucy, who was forced to make nice at this event because, after all, it was in trying to help her I landed in the FBI interrogation room.
“The caviar on that oyster is the best Russia has to offer. It just arrived this morning,” Ivan told me. “It’s Aralina’s favorite.” He gave a pointed look at the beautiful blonde beside me.
In their eyes, I was considering the arranged marriage. We were in a gathering of fifty guests. Seated around our table were Ivan, his wife, Irina, their son Kirill; and daughter, Aralina; and Kolya. Kolya Petrov took over the reins of brigadier from his cousin Grigori. From my side were Pop and Ma, my sister, Lucy; and my underboss Sonny.
The good news: Grigori had fallen from power and I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. After Lucy had brought hisdealings with the congressman to my attention, the goal to bring that fucker down became the priority and the properties had fallen from favor. I made this clear to my mother. It also served its purpose of freeing Sloane and her brother from Grigori’s dominion.
The bad news? Nobody knew where he was, and Sloane was already in the middle of this clusterfuck. She chose to work for the feds and screwed me over with those damning photographs. Now the feds’ lead witness went missing, was probably dead, and I was the last person who was seen having an altercation with her, courtesy of Sloane’s photographs. Betrayed was too tame a word when they shoved those photos under my nose. They told me Sloane and her brother had been snitches for the feds for a long time. My mind had a hard time wrapping itself around what they were telling me. The person who interrogated me in that room smirked as if he’d been hanging on to further evidence that could bring me down.
The bratva was also doing damage control. Grigori made a move behind their backs and landed them in hot water. Through our mediators, we came up with this bullshit united front because our combined political clout was potent and influential.
My phone buzzed again, and it was burning a hole in my pocket. “Osetra is indeed the best caviar.” I shot Ivan a tight grin before smiling apologetically to Aralina. “Excuse me.” I stood up. “I’m expecting an important call.”
Ignoring my mother’s disapproving stare, I slid my chair back and fished out my phone.
Two texts from Sandro.
Sandro
Call me.
Dom, call me right fucking now! I don’t care if you’re having dinner with the fucking king of england!
If one knew Sandro, he rarely used an exclamation point. He was typically concise in his messages because the fucker hated texting. That he used my name sent foreboding rippling through me. You see, when Sloane called the police on the security I hired for her, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I told myself she was dead to me. One rule after we ended the affair was we weren’t obliged to check on each other. But did I abide by that rule? No. I put security on her and continued to receive reports on her activities because it gave me peace of mind and I could do my job as the head of my family.
I was pleased she showed up at Venezia Tower and I was assuming the text she sent me was to consider living there. But the timing couldn’t be worse. I had been dealing with Lucy’s witness. And as if that wasn’t fucked enough, Luca’s troubles with the Russian mob in Chicago heated up. In my defense, the entire underworld was riveted by the unfolding drama of my uncle’s life. Amnesiac wife who was a hacker and had stolen millions from Russian organized crime. That kind of shit was made for Hollywood, but how did I ever doubt that Luca’s life wouldn’t be that colorful? Luca kept the “stealing” part on the down-low under threat of death because he didn’t want Natalya to be further targeted.
I searched for a private corner, nodding briefly to the security standing around guarding the lobby of the event facility.
I called Sandro. He answered on the first ring and I heard mayhem around him.
“What the fuck, De Lucci?” he growled.
“What’s going on?” I asked carefully. I found a deserted corridor and headed further in.
“You told me to check on Sloane.” He was having trouble regulating his voice like he was jogging. “I was wondering why you would ask me that. Then I find police cruisers and cops crawling all over the place.”
“Sloane?”
