Page 21 of Lovely Venom
“Fuck, Noel. Youknowwho I am.”
They stagger off, and Valdrin turns to face me.
“Are you all right?” he asks in a tone that moves through me.
I exhale, more breathless at how he cares about me. “If I can’t take a guy getting inappropriate with me, then—”
“I am so sorry,” he interrupts with a tight jaw. “That will not happen again.” His words are strong, but worry clouds the edges, like he’s not sure. “Noel is waiting for you. This way.”
Valdrin leads me down a softly lit hallway, illuminated by sconces. It opens to one massive room. Everything I see is polished, oversized, and designed tointimidate. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the glittering Manhattan skyline, and expensive liquor glows amber under the lights of a glass bar.
I take it all in with a bored exhale. Opulence has never impressed me. All wealth is dirty money in some form or another.
I do, however, stop short, noticing the man lounging in a high-backed wing chair near the fireplace. With long, powerful legs crossed, he’s watching me with a gaze that can cut glass.
Noel Tahiri.
I recognize him from intel briefings I found using an old password the DEA hadn’t deactivated yet. The newly crownedkyreof the Albanian Brotherhood is young, handsome,anddangerous. He was Levin Berisha’s ambitious but impulsive second-in-command.
According to an FBI informant, the Albanians’ singular mission is to take over the entire city. Which means they think they’re stronger and smarter than the Irish, the Greeks, the Italians, and the Bratva combined.
Noel’s tailored black dress shirt and matching tight slacks fit his gangster image. His dark hair is slicked back, and his sharp, calculating gray eyes skim over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Raina Riatt,” Noel says smoothly, holding a crystal tumbler filled with something amber and expensive. Unlike Valdrin, Noel doesn’t speak with an accent. “Or should I say, Raina Berisha?”
My insides get queasy hearing the last name of the father I never met. “What’s in a name?”
A smirk tugs at the corner of Tahiri’s mouth. “Smart. Names are irrelevant. It’s the blood that tells the truth.” He gestures to the black leather sofa across from him. “Sit.”
I stay on my feet, not liking all the space behind it.
Noel chuckles, setting his drink down on an end table. “You’re cautious. Good. But you don’t need to be. We are not the enemy. Youbelonghere.”
“I don’t belong anywhere,” I say flatly. “I’d rather stay unaffiliated. I have to get another job. I’m not sure the name Berisha on my resume will open a lot of law enforcement doors.”
Noel hums in amusement and looks at Valdrin. “How adorable. She thinks she’s getting a job with the NYPD.”
I don’t argue. “What do you want with me?”
Noel’s right eyebrow raises. “It’s what your father wanted. He wanted you to have this.” He spreads his arms wide. “All of it.”
“Bullshit.” I twist my fingers, my missing gun hitting a nerve.
Grumbling, Noel stands and points to a glass dining table. “Sit there.”
“Are you going to smash my face in it?”
Laughing, he says, “No. But thanks for that idea.”
Valdrin taps my shoulder. Winking, he steers me to a cushioned seat. “Can I get you anything?”
Thinkinganythingwill be laced with poison or a sedative, I shake my head.
Noel spends the next few minutes showing me a thick portfolio of statements with names of equities and mind-bending balances. My father’s estate has vast wealth I cannot comprehend.
“Because there’s only so many millions of dollars you can hide in a safe deposit box, we’ve created shell companies that are managed by my accountant. But your father’s wealth does not belong to me. It belongs to his heir. That’s you.”
I sit back, not absorbing any of these numbers, which can be bullshit printouts. I’m waiting for the fucking punchline.
