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My mother told me from the start that information was power. Those who had it won the game, and those who coveted it, would find themselves bleeding in the streets.
I thought I had all the information I needed.
I was wrong. But I learned a great deal along the way, like nothing is what it seems. That everyone had secrets. I did too. And though I wasn’t’ ready to play my hand yet, I was still in the game.
The men in my life may think they’ve won, but I was just getting started. I am Illyria Nicoletta Valentinetti, and I was about to change the rules of the game.
When the vehicle came to a stop, I didn’t say a word as Maxim quietly got out of the vehicle. Standing near the door, he waited until I slid over and stepped out.
I was in the city.
More importantly, he brought me to his penthouse. The one I vowed never to walk into again. The one he fucked his whore in. If he thought he would get a rise out of me by bringing me here, he thought wrong. With my head held high, I walked into the building and headed straight for the elevator. Neither of us said a damn word as the elevator ascended to the top floor before opening into a penthouse I was familiar with. I knew every nook and cranny of this place. Spent days, weeks exploring the rooms.
Walking into the lobby, I headed straight for the kitchen, where I knew he always kept a bottle of my favorite red wine. If I was going to do what needed to be done, then I was going to need some liquid fortitude.
Opening the wine cooler, I grabbed my bottle of wine, then reached into a cupboard and grabbed a glass. Placing both on the kitchen counter, I rummaged around the drawers until I found the corkscrew and got to work opening my bottle.
I said nothing as his men checked every room before vacating the premises. He took a seat, watching my every move before saying, “I know what game you are playing, and it won’t work, Illyria.”
“Illyria? I thought I wasMoya Lyubov?” I smirked, popping the cork as I reached for my glass, pouring myself a full glass.
“You had to know it was going to come to this. I tried to warn you.”
Swallowing a large gulp, I used the back of my hand to wipe away a dribble that ran down my face. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Warn me about what?”
“Why did you leave?” he countered.
“I needed a vacation.”
“No, you left because of what I did. You saw my dark side and I scared you.”
I laughed.
“Hate to break it to you, Max, but you’ve never been the golden boy. You wear the dark like a cloak. So, no. You didn’t scare me. In fact, I knew exactly what was going to happen when you showed up at my penthouse that night. Would you like to see the bruises you left? I think I still have one on my hip.”
He cursed lowly in Russian.
“So how long is my prison sentence going to be?”
“What?”
Taking another drink, I elaborated, “You know. How long am I grounded for because I still have commitments to attend to, and business matters that I’m needed for and let’s not forget my club? The very club you men gave me lock, stock and barrel. The grand re-opening is this weekend. I have to finalize the guest list, call the caterers, hand out the employee schedules and make sure everything is perfect.”
“Montana will be by later for your signature. He’s found another person to run the club.”
Tsking, I shook my head. “Not a chance in hell. I’m not selling the club. You all gave it to me and it will be over my dead body before I sell it. If any of you even try to forge my signature, I will see all of you in court and I promise you I will answer every question truthfully.”
“You can’t run a club from here, Illyria.”
“Watch me.” I dared.
Maxim shook his head before running his hands down his face. I was pushing him to his limit. I knew I was. I’d seen the signs many times before. The more I challenged him, the faster he would blow.
“I also have the Sunshine Charity Event coming up in three weeks. My mother’s charity. I need to go shopping for a new dress. It’s at the Met this year and I refuse to wear last year’s designs. You will need to think carefully before appointing my security detail that day. I plan to hit all the shops for the perfect ensemble. I don’t want any whiners hindering my fun.”
“Illyria,” he growled.
“Then there is Mrs. Rushton. If I am going to be living with you for the foreseeable future, I want Mrs. Rushton. You’ve already vetted her, so I don’t want to hear any complaints about her in that regard. She is damn good at doing her job. More importantly, she is the best when it comes to taking care of my needs. I know you like your Russian cuisine, but I like a variety and I refuse to go without my favorite Italian dishes.”
