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“I’m here now, Lilli. You are not on your own anymore, and I’m good at dealing with problems. Tomorrow we will visit your mother and her husband and retrieve your sister’s diary. In return, I will deal with your problem, so it is never mentioned or heard of again.”
“How?” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “It’s online, Mikhail. It will never go away. My disgrace will forever float around cyber space and who knows who will see it? I wasn’t kidding when I asked you to drop me off at the edge of the world because there’s a chance they don’t get a signal there.”
Her attempt at humor make me smile because even now she is trying to make light of a serious situation.
I surprise myself by pulling her toward me and as I wrap my arms around her shivering body, a violent protective streak I never knew was there rears its head. I wasn’t kidding when I said she’s going nowhere. She’s not. If anything, I want to take care of her more than I want to fuck her right now, which is the most surprising thing of all.
I pull away and stare into her beautiful eyes and say gently, “Finish your meal and eat it in front of the television. There is every channel on there. Take your mind off what you told me and eat the shit out of that fast food knowing you won’t be disturbed.”
“You’re leaving me.”
Her face falls and I’m not sure why I like that. She doesn’t want me to go and not because she wants my cock inside her. She wants me, the man, not the trophy, and I am beginning to understand why people settle for one partner. I have shared a closer bond with Lilli in the last twenty-four hours than any other woman in my life, and I haven’t even fucked her yet. Somehow, this is more intimate. As if I am discovering her mind instead of her body and I like it. I want more of it, so I stroke her face lightly and smile gently into her eyes.
“I won’t be long, Lilli flower. Enjoy your space and take some time out. But understand one thing.”
I impulsively press my lips to hers and it’s as if I lit a flare. I am blinded by protective instinct and the knowledge I must tread carefully. She is so delicate, fragile, and sweet. A woman who has been denied the excitement of youth. I want to show her everything she’s missed out on and paint a smile on her pretty face, but more than that, I want to deal with her demons and watch them burn.
That is why I’m leaving her to collect her frazzled soul carefully and attempt to rearrange it around her. There will only be good things in Lilli’s life from now on, and if anyone disagrees with that, they must go through me first.
I leave her to some time alone, intent on dealing with this swiftly so I can get back to her. Not for anything other than pulling her head to my shoulder and watching whatever shit she wants on the box while I think up despicable ways to pay her mom and her husband back for what they did to those girls.
Damien is waiting for me and says with concern, “You won’t like it.”
I drop into the chair behind my desk and pour us both a large glass of vodka and say irritably, “I already know I don’t fucking like it, so just hit me with the details.”
He says with distaste, “Mickey Gruber is a low life, bottom end villain. He pairs up with women who have teenage daughters and hooks the mother on drugs so he can exploit her kids.”
“How many?”
“He is working with three families that we know of.”
“Fuck.” I shake my head. “And?”
“He has connections with an organization called Burning Roses.”
My ears prick up because this is what I’ve been waiting for.
“The woman who runs it is called Marsha Steele. She signs girls on her books and arranges their dates. The men are guaranteed anonymity, and she provides escorts for hire with benefits.”
“Typical Madame then.” I say thoughtfully.
“Yes, but she’s more than that. She operates in high society. The girls she provides head off to private parties, orgies if you like. They are threatened if they speak of them and drugged into acceptance.”
“Fuck.” I picture Reggie in this world and my hatred grows for Mickey Gruber ten hundred-fold.
Damien says with disgust, “The men on her books are rich businessmen looking for kicks outside of their dull home life. They pay extortionate amounts for levels of depravity that would get them arrested if it became common knowledge. Your guest’s sister was a frequent escort, her youth and beauty in great demand and yet I doubt she saw a dime of the money because her fee was paid directly into Mickey Gruber’s checking account.”
I pour us another glass and lean forward. My eyes burning with hatred for this man.
Damien sighs heavily. “Burning Roses always provide the same woman. Iris Mahoney is the code name for her girls, and they are recorded by that name at all the parties these men attend.”
“Then there must be a fucking lot of them on that guest list.” I growl, knowing that whoever runs them wouldn’t give a fuck anyway, and Damian nods.
“I’m sorry Mikhail, but your father’s name is also listed on their database. He accompanied several Iris Mahoney’s, which became more frequent in the last five years.”
“What do you mean?”
I stare at him with growing distaste in my eyes and he says unhappily, “There were many parties all over the world, always involving Iris Mahoney. He is also due to attend a party this Saturday in London. There is a private estate in the English countryside where several of Marsha’s clients are heading. Her operation is international by all accounts, and I have the guest list and have taken the liberty of replacing his name with yours.”
