Page 109 of Reckless Hearts

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting you have personal business withAdeleRoy,” he muses, clearly pleased with himself when my eyes turn dark, even for me. “I’m talking about her daughter.”

“Careful, Alistair.”

“Carefulnessdidn’t build me a law firm empire by the time I was thirty-five, Deimos. Boldness, ballsy-ness, and the willingness to get my handsverydirty did. And we both knowthatis the reason you and I work together so well.” He drums his fingers on the conference table. “Dahliaisunder your employ, yes?”

“And this matters why?”

He chuckles. “Deimos, come on. I’m not stupid. You have a new company with exactly one employee, and that employee happens to be the daughter of the very woman you’re buying up companies from in the most aggressive grab I’ve ever seen.”

“Just get me the rest of them, Alistair.”

He sighs. “Well, that may prove tricky.”

“Explain.”

“There now seem to be other interested parties in the remaining companies currently held in limbo while Gerard Dumouchel and Adele Roy sort out their legal troubles and finalize their divorce.”

Shit.

“Other parties like who?”

“I mean, it’s an enormous empire on the rocks, Deimos. When there’s blood in the water, the sharks come out to play—”

“Who.”

He exhales slowly. “Drazen Krylov.”

Fuck.

I don’t know him personally, but Drazen is a former mercenary warlord who’s recently come into afuckloadof money which has allowed him to go from a sort of boogeyman in the Bratva world to…well, a king.

“Okay,” I growl. “I’ll talk to Gavan and see—”

“I’m not sure that’ll do much. Drazen night be new to the Brava scene in New York, but he and Gavan have a bit of history.”

“I said I’llhandleit. In the meantime, be extremely aggressive. Iwantthose companies, Alistair.”

He nods slowly, fixing me with a cold, piercing stare.

“Something on your mind, Alistair?” I growl.

“There is, actually. Did you have anything to do with the break-in at Adele Roy’s townhouse?”

What?

There’s an edge to his voice, and a warning in his tone. I glare at him.

“No.”

“Deimos—”

“The answer is no, Alistair.” I eye him. “You’re asking because that would be crossing a line for you, I suppose.”

He dips his head. “That’s exactly why I’m asking. I’ll get down in the mud when I have to, you know that. But suggesting to CEOs that their wives will find out about their affairs if they don’t sign deals is another ballgame entirely compared to showing up at people’s homes with loaded guns. If it’s the latter you need from me, I’m out. I might be fine working with men in your particular line of work, Deimos. But I’m a lawyer, not a mafioso.”

I shake my head. “Again, that wasn’t me.” My face darkens. “I’m actually looking into it myself.”

He clears his throat, tapping the table with his pen. “In that case, I might be able to point you in the right direction.” His brow knits. “Are you and Dante Sartorre on speaking terms?”

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