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But that has nothing to do with the reason why I’m considering this job.
Besides the guilt I’ve carried around for ten years, I owe my best friend a favor. Fifteen years ago, my little sister was diagnosed with leukemia. Her dying wish was to marry Nikolai. When I asked him to give my dying sister her wish, he didn’t hesitate. Not once did she doubt whether he really loved her.
During her final days, she was happy. I owe Nikolai, and this is the favor he wants.
There’s no saying no.
Accepting my fate, I inspect the death threats. The letters are old-school. Cut-outs from magazines and newspapers were used for the words. Honestly, I haven’t seen that shit in years.
The recordings have been put together with different voices, so there’s no use in trying to trace the voice. With an endless supply of videos on social media, it’s so fucking easy to put together a threat like this.
It’s the first time Maurice has received a threat against Camille, and apparently, there’s nothing on this planet he loves more than her.
He wants someone with a name in the criminal world to protect her, figuring it would scare off the fuckers threatening his daughter.
Besides the previous head of the bratva, I’m the best assassin in the world. If the person threatening Camille’s life is from the criminal world, he will definitely know who I am.
The person would be stupid as fuck to attack her once they’ve seen her with me.
You owe Nikolai.
You owe Camille.
“Blyad',” I mutter while rising to my feet.
Grabbing my jacket from where it’s draped over the back of the chair, I shrug it on. With my guns safely in the vault, I leave the hotel room.
It’s not like I need a weapon. I’ve been trained in every fighting style and can kill a man with my bare hands. I’m the predator the worst of the worst hires and the good people of the world avoid. I’m the nightmare you don’t want to come face-to-face with.
And for the next couple of months, I’ll have to be Camille’s guardian.
As I make my way to the lobby, I pull my phone from my pocket and send Nikolai a text.
Maxim: Fine. I’ll babysit the girl.
Nikolai reads the message immediately, and soon his reply comes through.
Nikolai: I owe you. I’m going home this coming weekend. Join me so we can catch up and discuss the contract.
It’s been a while since I’ve visited the island situated near Finland that Nikolai calls home. His parents, grandparents, and sister also live there. The island is nothing short of a fortress where the Vetrovs run their billion-dollar diamond-smuggling empire.
Maxim: I’ll be there Saturday morning.
I tuck the device back into my pocket and walk toward a conference room situated on the ground floor of the hotel where I’m staying. A function is being held to raise money for global warming, and every socialite in France should be there.
Including Camille.
Just like with any other job, I need to get to know Camille’s routine. I want to see what she’s like when she’s out in public.
There are two guards stationed at the door, and after showing them the very expensive ticket I purchased, I’m allowed to enter the room.
Most of the funds made at this event will be embezzled, and global warming won’t see a dime. That pisses me off. Even though I’ve made millions being an assassin, I hate wasting money.
Classical music fills the air while people stand around in small groups, discussing shit I have zero interest in.
My gaze lands on a sexy-as-fuck ass that’s plump enough to handle a good spanking. A black silk dress fits her body like a second skin, the fabric falling to the curve of her lower back.
Jesus Christ.
