With that in mind, I pivot on my heels and walk away as per my father’s request. My anger is so stubborn, I grip my date’s arm with more force than needed to guide her to my car I requested for the valet to keep close by. Leah doesn’t seem to mind. She’s as worked up as I am after witnessing my father’s conversation with Isaac.
“He won’t let bygones be bygones, will he?” Her guilt is as palpable as mine. If she hadn’t encouraged Ophelia to consider my ruse, her college roommate/best friend would still be here.
After sliding into the back seat of a rented SUV on Leah’s heel, I rip the earpiece out of my ear, yank my cell phone out of my pocket, then dial Smith’s number.
He answers two rings later. “I’m still cross-referencing—”
“What was that?”
The noise of his chair clicking into place sounds down the line before his confused hum. “What was what?”
“The argument between you and Roxanne.”
A brief stretch of silence teems between us.
It agitates me to no end.
“Smith—”
“She must have accidentally hit the mic button.”
Leah’s pretty hazel eyes float from the scenery whizzing by her window to me when I snarl, “Why was she there to begin with? She should have been in her room.” She’s fine with women being traded as long as it’s of their own free will. Only when you hold them captive, as I have Roxanne the past four days, does she have an issue.
I don’t know if it’s anger skating through my veins or worry when Smith replies, “She found my hub when looking for her father.”
“You didn’t think to lock the door?”
His laugh has me itching for a blood bath. “She didn’t exactly sneak up on me, Dimi. I knew she was coming before she entered.”
“Then you should have escorted her back to her room.”
He scoffs like I’m being irrational. It’s barely heard over Leah’s disappointed sigh when I say, “I put a price on her virginity tonight. If she’s wandering around unsupervised, someone might be tempted to claim it without paying for the privilege.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Dimitri.” Smith’s relapse to my full name exposes his annoyance. “You were supposed to use Ian’s information to getyourfoot into the industry, not dump Roxanne knee-deep in it.”
“I couldn’t get my foot in the door without using Roxanne’s virginity.” When he remains quiet, I stack some reassurance onto my ploy. “She won’t be touched under my watch. I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
“You wanna fucking hope so, D.” This gravelly tone doesn’t belong to Smith. It’s the voice of an undeniably pissed Rocco. “Because if she gets hurt, you’ll have to load your own bullets into the gun you want to kill your father with because I’ll be done.”
It takes everything I have not to smash my phone when Rocco ends our call by doing precisely that to Smith’s cell. The only reason I don’t is because Smith’s face on the screen of my phone is quickly gobbled up by the symbol I use for my father—a reversed pentagram.
Col:Meet me at Chasity’s at midnight. Come alone. It’s time to expand the family franchise.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Roxanne
My eyes lift to the door when the creak of overworked hinges sounds through my ears. Relief engulfs my senses when Dimitri enters my room. I haven’t laid my eyes on him in over twenty-four hours. He didn’t return to our room after he snuck out yesterday afternoon, and none of his staff knew of his whereabouts when they brought in my meals. It was as if he vanished into thin air.
Even though I shouldn’t have worn a hole in the rug fretting about him, I did. The last time we were together, he was a raging, neurotic caveman, but I still get a weird sense of comfort from sharing a bed with him. Seeing his bad points firsthand awards me the knowledge that he is able to protect me if needed. It arrives with a heap of possessive idiocies, but I’d rather those than to have him sit back and watch the carnage unfold like my father would.
The more my conversation with Rocco yesterday afternoon filtered through my head, the sturdier my disdain for my father became. He tried to sell my virginity—more than once. That burns. I’ve known for a very long time that possessions are more valuable to him than anything, but still, I’m his daughter, his flesh and blood. He isn’t supposed to profit off me.
My thoughts snap back to the present when Dimitri crosses the room. When I drink in his features, the knot in my stomach tightens. He looks exhausted—that isn’t unusual, he always looks exhausted, but it’s more prominent this morning. Dark rings circle his eyes, a crinkle is burrowed between his brows, and he’s wearing the same tuxedo he snuck out of the room with last night—but he also looks as sexy as hell. His scruffy beard has been replaced with an almost clean-shaven chin, and his dark hair has been slicked back off his face. With a teasing number of tattoos peeking out of his impressive-looking tuxedo, he’s showcasing the ultimate bad-boy persona—brooding mood and all.
“Hey,” I greet him when he stops at the end of my bed. I’m not a fan of his quietness. I’d rather he pin me to the bed and scream in my face than tackle the bad aura suffocating his usually vivacious personality. “Are you just getting in?”
I loathe the jealousy my question was asked with, but it can’t be helped. I know he didn’t attend his function alone. I spotted a pretty redhead hovering in the wings of the surveillance footage Smith wasn’t quick enough to shut down before I saw it last night. Before Dimitri left her alone to speak with his father, she was fawning all over him.
