Page 62 of Illyria

“He knows the risks.”

“But do you? Petrovitch already got his hands on Tessa. What he did to her will feel like child’s play if he gets his hands on you and you know it. That man has a hard-on for you something fierce. You should have told Maxim the truth, or at least your brothers. This vendetta you are on will not end the way you plan. Let’s just go back to New York, grab Mrs. Rushton and Clara, and disappear.”

“I can’t do that. As long as Petrovitch is alive, he won’t stop searching.”

Maria grabbed my arm and angrily stated, “Listen to me, Illyria. I love you. I will always protect you, but this is asinine. If you continue down this path, Petrovitch will find you. Just tell Maxim the truth!”

Yanking my arm away from her, I shook my head. “I can’t. Not until the threat is gone.”

Maria sighed. “You’re making a big mistake, cousin. What will happen if Maxim learns the truth, only to find out that he could have prevented it? Have you even thought about what this will do to him? Do you even care? He’s a part of this too. He has a right to know!”

“I will tell him,” I sighed. “When I end Petrovitch.”

“You don’t get it!” Maria shouted, making me jump. She never yelled at me. In all the years we’ve known each other, she’s always been the calm and collected one. “You can’t stop Petrovitch. Not by yourself. There is no harm in asking for help, Illyria. I do it all the time. Hell, Giovanni didn’t think twice before asking the Golden Skulls for help. Montana asked Maxim for help. Your stubborn nature is going to get you killed. Enough of this nonsense. Call Maxim!”

“If you don’t want to be here, then leave!” I shouted back angrily. “I will finish this myself.” Turning, I stormed up the stairs, not bothering to see if she was following me. She made herself perfectly clear. She thought I couldn’t handle one man. That’s all he was.

One man.

Albeit a vile, egotistical and dangerous man, but he was still just a man. From the moment that bastard learned Maxim was interested in me, he’s made my life a living hell. Always showing up at venues when he wasn’t invited. Or if he was, he would watch me like a hawk, waiting for any inconsistencies. On the few times he spotted me and Maxim together, I would catch him grinning wickedly as he disappeared within the crowd.

At first, I thought I was imagining it, but now I knew I wasn’t.

The man was looking for something. Waiting, watching my every move. Even when I broke things off with Maxim, he never left me alone. Sending his goons to the Valentinetti Corp. where I worked.

I grew up in this life. I knew when I was being watched.

Then the unthinkable happened and I knew the only way to keep anyone from learning the truth was to fade into the background. So, I stepped back from society. Moved my office from the Valentinetti Corp. to my penthouse in Chicago until the whispers started. That’s when I disappeared in the dead of night, only to emerge when it was safe.

Petrovitch wasn’t the only left scratching his head. Everyone was. My family, friends, acquaintances, even Maxim. For three months, nobody knew where I was. For those short months, I was free. But I knew it wouldn’t last. At that time, I did everything I could, reached out to others, not associated with any organization, for help. By the time I re-entered society, I made sure my secret would stay secret, even after my death.

Only when I eliminated the threat would I tell everyone the truth.

I may be just a woman, but I was the daughter of Valentino and Nicoletta Valentinetti. If anyone thought I would roll over and lay down and let a man dictate to me how I was going to live and protect me, they didn’t know me at all.

My father and mother taught me well.

Firm in my resolve, I knocked on the door just as it opened to reveal a grown man.No longer the gangly goth kid I remembered, but now a young man stood before me. Tall and muscular, Sypher stayed true to his roots. He still had his shaggy black hair that hung too low, covering his face and tattoos on every inch of skin I could see. The young man smiled shyly. “Hi, Ms. Illyria.”

“Oh my,” I grinned, looking him up and down. “You have changed, haven’t you?”

Sypher blushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Hugging the boy I remembered, now several inches taller than me, I whispered, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he said, patting my back uncomfortably before taking a step back, letting me pass.

Confused, I rubbed my temple. “English,Sypher. Not all of us have your brain. I need you to dumb this down for me.”

We had been going over the journal for hours. After he uploaded every single page into his computer, Sypher wasted no time running his analysis and doing whatever it was he did. We quickly learned that it was a diary of sorts. A testimonial and an account of one individual’s last few years.

“See here,” he said, pointing to an entry in the journal. “The author scribbled. He was in a rush, almost as if he didn’t have time to write everything down. He does this every few months.”

“What does the chicken scratch have to do with figuring out what Petrovitch wants with me?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Sypher,” I moaned. “Help me out here. Please make sense!”

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