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The man stops and turns around, his face drawn in confusion.
“Can I help you?” he questions, his tone suspicious. He’s looking around wildly as if he is afraid someone will jump out at him.
“Well… I…” I look down at the girl a I stammer my words. She’s a carbon copy of Ada when she was this age. Young. Carefree. Innocent.
“Look, lady,” the man steps back, fear filling his eyes. “I don’t know what you want but…”
My gaze catches on the hand he’s holding. The little girl has a small mark on her right wrist.
“Where did she get that scar?” I ask him curiously.
“Wh… what?” He’s caught off guard.
I point at the girl’s wrist. “That scar. Where did she get it?” My pulse is racing as I wait for his answer. Please let it be a coincidence. Let it not be true. It can’t be. Please, if there is a god…
“It’s not a scar,” he tells me. “It’s a birthmark. Her mother had the same one.”
Everything in me shatters.
My world falls around me at my feet.
There is only one other person I know of that has that scar—
And she is six feet under.
Twenty-Four
I’m going to wring her pretty little neck. If she thought I was commanding and a brute before, she will soon see the monster she has created today. I’ll lock her away, so she never sees the sun again. The only thing she will see is me. Her day—no, her motherfucking world—will revolve around me.
How dare she fucking run. After everything I’ve done for her. I could have sold her to Spiridakos, but I didn’t. Hell, I can still sell her if she becomes too much of a pain in the ass.
But you won’t.
My mind and body are at odds with one another. The logical side of me is telling me to get rid of her. She’s a liability. Another Castellanos spy in my household. Too bad my cock isn’t getting the message. He wants her. Is hard for her. Only her. Fucker has found the flavor he likes and won’t be tempted by anyone else.
Not even Celia, the woman who sucks my cock on a regular basis, could sway him. She’d come to my office at the hotel this morning to talk about the wedding. She hadn’t liked hearing that I was getting married to someone other than her. I’ve never treated Celia any different than the other women who blow me on the regular, but somehow, she has gotten it in her head that because she wraps her mouth around my cock on occasion, she is entitled to special treatment.
News flash.
She isn’t.
The cunt also might not have been too happy when I hired her to be Vanya’s wedding planner. I had laughed at the image it conjured when I thought about Celia walking into the bridal shop and confronting Vanya.
When my mother called to tell me how the outing had gone, she’d happily run me through how Vanya had threatened Celia and cut her hair. She’d also poured wine on the gown I’d supposedly picked out for her. Which I hadn’t and apparently neither had Celia.
My knee bounces erratically as we near the location of Vanya’s tracker. Why did she run? She knows she is being tracked. Something isn’t sitting right in my stomach. She’s not moving. The tracker is so new that I hadn’t had time to update Anton and Sasha with the software to find her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be making this trip across town.
Something painful clenches my heart at the thought of what I might find.
Her tracker hasn’t moved in nearly twenty minutes. Is she dead? Had the mysterious E-Ris, who ordered her hit, found her?
Fuck.
Why the hell do I even care? If she’s dead, then I don’t have to worry about marrying her for the Castellanos properties. I can just take them.
Except you want to marry her.
There’s that annoying little voice of mine again. The angel on my shoulder that I swore I decapitated years ago.
