AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER4
RUSLAN
Istare at the file in front of me. Rostam slaps it down before he stands and walks out of the office, warning me that he’ll be back tomorrow night to discuss everything with me and will have a proposal for me.
I don’t know what any of this shit means.
Though I can’t look away from the folder in front of me. Slowly, I open it and see a picture of me fucking Isabel. I’m buried deep inside of her, my face pressed against her neck, her arms wrapped around me, and her ass perched against the back of the sofa—my sofa.
What the fuck?
The next picture is similar, though it’s a different day and different position.Fuck. I’m not exactly sure what any of this means, but it’s clear to me that she is not available. If he’s got the pictures, she is the Russian woman married to his man. The third wife of this man. Lifting my hand, I cup my forehead and let out a sigh.
Fuck.
Jesus Christ.
What theactualfuck?
I stare straight ahead and wonder what the fuck I’m going to do next. I am completely lost. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. If the Persian Mafia is anything like the Bratva, she could be killed for cheating.
At least now, I don’t have to watch Isabel or try to find out anything about her. It’s all right here in black and white in front of me.
The next page is a small write-up about her, about Isabel.
Isabel.
The contract was written six years ago. She’s twenty-two years old and has been contracted and given to Azar Shokri, who is part of the Persian Mafia. Counting back from twenty-two, my stomach twists immediately.
Sixteen.
It’s not uncommon for women to be married off at a young age, especially in Russia, but there is something that bothers me about it. This is something that isn’t done as often as it used to be. These are children, these girls. Sixteen is very much still a child.
Picking up my phone, I don’t call Rostam the way that I want to, instead, I call Osip. He’s no doubt asleep right now, but at the same time, I don’t give a fuck. I am reeling.
“You’re calling me at two in the morning, because?” he asks.
He sounds wide awake, but I doubt that he is. He’s just that fucking good. “I’m calling you because I’m staring at a file about a Bratva daughter who was given to a Persian Mafia member at the age of sixteen.”
“What the fuck are you even talking about?” he demands.
Sucking in a breath, I tell him everything that I know. It’s not much, but by the time I’m finished, I think that Osip is just as pissed off as I am. When he doesn’t say anything immediately, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“I don’t know what to even say about that. Why?”
“From what I can see, I don’t know why. Rostam didn’t seem to have a reason either. I’m going to call him first thing tomorrow and discuss this further.”
“He came to you with this because?”
Fuck.
I was afraid that he would ask me this question. I knew that it was coming, but I really didn’t want to tell him.
“He came to me with this, because I’ve been fucking her for a few months.”
“Ruslan,” he says, his tone warning. I don’t blame him. I would have some serious fucking judgments if I were him.
Shrugging a shoulder, I know that he can’t see me, but I have nothing else for him immediately. “I didn’t know who she was. I figured there was something lurking there because she refused to tell me anything personal about herself other than her first name, but I didn’t actually know anything.”
