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“What do you need me to do?” Cassian asked?
“Wait. We will likely make a trip into the city. However, your main concern today will be cracking the phone.”
“You got it, boss. It should be a piece of cake.”
Whatever he found would hopefully provide some answers, although if the man had been a professional, I’d expect to hear anything that could lead us to his identity or that of the person he was working for had already been wiped. I headed toward my front door, Kirill already inside.
“Welcome home, Mr. Kozlov,” my housekeeper said, giving me a respectful nod.
“Thank you, Marlena.”
“I put your mail in your office and oh, sir, you have a visitor.”
I smiled as I walked past. “I’m already aware.” I stopped before heading into the hallway. “Oh, Marlena. Do me a favor and make up the guest room. We may have a guest in a few days.” I almost laughed at my sudden decision. Bringing Stephanie to my home was definitely not a good decision, but I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.
“Of course, sir.”
I took long strides into my office, fascinated Kirill stood at the expansive window behind my desk, staring out at the pristine landscaping. He wasn’t a man who’d ever shown interest in anything but honing his butchery crafts.
“What was so important, Kirill?”
He took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving. “I thought you’d want to see this.”
As he handed me a file, I narrowed my eyes. “What the fuck?”
“It’s all in the photographs.”
I glared at him for a few seconds before opening it. Then the clear impact of my decision to follow her was slammed in my face. The man on the island hadn’t been there for an assassination attempt. He’d been there to photograph the two of us together. Uncontrollable rage swelled within me, the rush of adrenaline creating a hard pounding of my heart. “Where the fuck did you get these?” I flipped from one to another, realizing almost the second we’d been together the fucker had captured us.
“They were emailed from a secure location to the casino’s website.” Kirill studied me carefully, his expression of disdain pissing me off.
I moved closer to my desk, my blind fury getting the better of me. I swept my arm across my desk, watching as my laptop was tossed several feet away, thudding against the wall, other items smashing against the floor. Then I smashed my fist against the surface of my desk, pounding it several more times until my knuckles were bloody. When the carnage settled, I took a deep breath, shifting my head in his direction.
My enforcer held a look of amusement, which wasn’t in his best interest at this moment. He knew what I was capable of, the insanity of my violence when I was driven past the realm of humanity.
“What happened to the photographer?” he asked as he stared down at the remnants of my tantrum.
“He was handled. I assumed he was an assassin.”
“Interesting. You’re certain there won’t be any connections?”
“Fuck you, Kirill. I know what I’m doing.” Maybe that was the truth, but I was close to losing more than my temper at this point. Thinking clearly had obviously not been in the forefront of my mind the last few days.
After a few seconds, he shook his head. “As I mentioned to you earlier, caution is prudent.”
“Is that what you embraced the moment you met Candy? Did you practice prudence before you fucked her then made her a part of your permanent life?” The woman he held so dear in his heart was a Walsh family member, the Irish scum who’d contested the building of the casino, the pompous patriarch keeping a firm hold on the fucking union. While my father had allowed their cohabitation, I’d fought against his right to build a family.
Something my father told me would eventually come back to haunt me. Perhaps he’d been right.
He took long strides in my direction, throwing a direct punch to my jaw. I reared back, almost stumbling then shot off two hard jabs of my own. When we were chest to chest, both prepared to continue until we were bloodied and beaten, he lifted his head, issuing a cold snarl.
“You don’t own my personal life, Alexei.”
“And you don’t own mine.”
We held the ridiculous stance for a full minute until he finally pulled away. The man had been raised like my brother, swept off the streets of Russia by my father. I was required to honor the relationship. That’s the only reason he was allowed to challenge me in such a personal, egregious way without feeling the sharp sting of my blade the moment before I gutted him.
“You care about her.” This time, his words weren’t laced with toxic connotations.
