Page 13 of The Don's Hidden Heir

“Good question.” Marcus leans back on his chair. “The hotel and airline company belongs to Kirill Vadim.”

My interest is piqued. Kirill Vadim came out as one of the highest shareholders of Romano Enterprises after my father died. Turned out he’d been buying our company stocks in secret, while keeping an eye on all of our shipments. I’d managed to retain the stocks and kick him out, but something about that man makes my skin crawl like I’m covered in a thousand ants.

I’m sure all of this is linked somehow. There’s a dot somewhere that I’m yet to connect, and while meeting with Peter won’t be of much help, I can manipulate his egotistical mind until I’ve gotten a clue.

“I need to meet David Peterson.”

“Even better, Kirill Vadim has a business gala coming up in two days.” He pauses. “As expected, it’s only open to high-profiled elites.”

A smile lifts my lips. “That’s it.” I rise from the table with urgency.

Marcus looks at me, clearly confused I’m ditching them in the middle of dinner. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“You’ve barely taken a bite of your food,” Vincent chimes in. He’s talkative when it doesn’t have to do with business or the mafia. I’ve got to teach the boy a lesson about becoming a man soon.

I tug my jacket in place. It’s not much of an excuse, but it’s reason enough for me to leave Romano Manor. This place gives me chills, as if father and mother’s ghosts are lurking around every corner.

Ten years ago, Peterson told me my fear spirals from the darkness that follows me around, but he was wrong. My fear lurks in the fact that my father’s ghost—if something like that does exist—is most definitely tumbling and tossing in the grave with the need for vengeance.

My brothers don’t know of my plans to hunt every one of our parents’ killers. No one knows who they are, but I made a promise the day they were buried to find whoever put them six feet under, and chew their hearts out.

I’m yet to fulfil that promise, and I have feeling I won’t ever rest until I succeed.

“I’m sorry, but I have a party to prepare for.” I stride outside to my car, ignite the engine and hit the road.

Something tells me my parents’ killer will be in the same room as me in two days. For what it’s worth, I hope he looks me in the eye and sees my newfound obsession with hunting him down.

He’d played his part, and now, I’m coming to hunt him down.

Chapter Four

Elena

Dominic Romano is just ten feet away from me.

Oh my God.

I try to breathe, but it’s as though air refuses to fill my lungs. My hands are sweaty, my legs wobbly and threatening to give out from the shock of seeing Dominic here. Something’s not right, he is not supposed to be here.

My throat dries up like I’m stuck in a middle of Sahara. There are voices in my head telling me to run before he sees me, but my legs are limp and glued to the floor.

There are so many thoughts running through my frazzled mind, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing he is still as handsome as he was seven years ago.

He stands tall in his tailored tuxedo, exuding sophistication. His dark eyes glint from the obscene chandeliers in the room as he looks in my direction.

My stomach churns with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. It’s only when he looks away I realize I’d been holding my breath. He probably didn’t see me, right?

He wouldn’t look the other way if he had. I still can’t take my eyes off him when a group of people walk up to him in the same way a person would run up to a celebrity. Not that I blame them, Dominic commands attention without putting in any effort.

When he is in a room, he soaks up the air, dominating every single thing and person in it.

A surge of conflicted emotions sears through me. It’s like I’m happy to see him again, but I can’t really be happy because I’m also afraid.

Two nights ago, Mr. Peterson sent an invitation to me, requesting I attend a business gala hosted by his friend. I’d tried to turn it down, but it proved impossible when he insisted, stating it was the perfect opportunity to build a connection that would last a lifetime.

He didn’t lie though. The entire room flashes with men and women who look like they sleep on sheets woven with dollar bills. I assume most of them are either politicians or business tycoons.

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