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“Who was it?”
“Jedrik Rusnak.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I saw him right before the attack at Cami’s penthouse,” I admit. “He said he was in town for a businessman.” I shake my head because that was a month ago. “He doesn’t take that long to complete a hit. Are you sure you have the right name?”
“The contract was taken out today. It all went down in a matter of an hour. Rusnak took the hit as soon as it went live.”
An icy sensation skitters down my spine. “Which means whoever’s behind this knows about us. They had to know they’d only have a small window of time from when the hit was ordered because your uncle is the director of St. Monarch’s. They knew I’d find out.” I shake my head, then ask, “Can Director Koslov tell us who took out the hit?”
“I can try to find out.”
I let out a sigh, then mutter, “Fuck, I’m sorry this happened while you’re on honeymoon.”
“The timing sucks, but it is what it is. I have to go. Abigail sends her sympathy.”
“Thanks.” The corner of my mouth lifts for a second. “Talk to you later.”
We end the call, and I take a moment to think about everything.
It’s seldom that an urgent hit comes through. Usually, we’re granted two weeks to a month to take out the target.
It tells me whoever went after Maurice is a part of my world. They know who I am. It also explains why Maurice was killed and not Cami.
But that doesn’t explain why the penthouse was attacked.
Christ, I’m missing a vital piece of information.
Hopefully, Nikolai will find out who ordered the contract on Maurice.
I let out a sigh, then dial a number on my phone.
“De Rothschild.”
“My name is Maxim Levin. I’m Camille DuBois’ fiancé.”
There’s no fucking way I’m calling myself her boyfriend. I’m sure she’ll forgive me for lying, but it’s the only way the people around her will take orders from me.
“Will a state funeral be held for her father?” I ask.
“Of course. I tried calling her, but it keeps going to voicemail. Is she there? Can I speak with her?”
I shake my head. “She’s currently resting. I’m in control of everything regarding Camille. I’d appreciate it if you could advise the press that she’s unavailable for interviews. She’ll only attend the funeral and nothing else.”
“Last I heard, you were her bodyguard,” he mentions.
“And now I’m her fiancé,” I mutter. “Camille will retire from her socialite duties, and once everything has been taken care of, she’s coming with me.”
“It’s all a little sudden,” he says, doubt lacing his words.
I can’t blame the man for being suspicious of me.
“Just do what I said. Once Camille feels a little better, I'll get her to call you.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’ll make the announcement that she won’t be speaking with the press. How is she doing?”
“Not well,” I answer honestly. “She loved her father very much.”
“I’ve known them since she was a child. They were always very close. Please give her my condolences and have her call me as soon as possible.”
