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“Texting Pippen to activate her tracker. We will know where she is soon enough. What did the fucknut say, Max? Think.”
Running my hands through my hair, I said, “He said something about the biker thug. That he knows where the silver-haired beauty is at. That he better hurry.”
Movement close to all of us had all of us turning as Malice stormed out of the club.
“Fuck,” Montana groaned. “Fury, follow him.”
“He said he knows what Illyria has been keeping from us. He knows her secret.”
“Did he say what it could be?” Giovanni asked, covering the speaker of his phone as he talked into it.
I shook my head. “No. He taunted me with the information. He said it was something she did.”
“Did?” Layla questioned. “That makes no sense. What could Illyria have done that she would need to keep from everyone? I mean, unless she was hiding something like a pregnancy,I can’t think of anything.”
My head snapped at my niece. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Think about it. Illyria’s life is an open book, with every detail that she wishes to share, being splashed across papers across the globe for the general public to read. But her personal life isn’t. She keeps that part hidden. There are only a few family members who know the real Illyria. Luciano knew the most. They were tight. When he died at the wedding, she pulled away from the family. She threw herself into the company. She stopped going to parties and such. Which isn’t like her at all.”
“Get to the point,Tesoro,” Giovanni growled.
“My point is, there isn’t much Illyria hides but something like a pregnancy, she would. I know I would and did. The second I found out I was pregnant, I had Giovanni take me to the island. I don’t want anyone to know about my children. Not after the life I’ve lived. I want them protected. The only other person who might know something is her housekeeper, Mrs. Rushton. That woman adores Illyria. Practically raised her from birth.”
“Maxim?” Giovanni questioned. “Is it possible?”
“No. I can’t have children. I had a vasectomy right after I left Russia. There is no way I was going to bring a child into my life. Besides, Illyria is on the pill. It’s impossible.”
“Not necessarily,” Linsey muttered. “Unless you followed up with your three-month checkup and a yearly checkup, it’s possible that you can still have kids, Mr. Fedorov. Vicious has been talking with a doctor about possibly getting the procedure done. The doctor we talked to was very clear. The follow-up appointments are to verify the procedure worked. He said that about fifteen percent of men who have a vasectomy never go to the follow-ups and end up still being fertile.”
“Did you go to the follow-up appointments?” Layla asked, as I slowly shook my head. I thought it was a one and done. That fucking prick I saw never said anything about needing further appointments. I just wanted the problem fixed.
“She wouldn’t keep something like that from me.”
“Are you sure?” Layla challenged. “Because after what you did to her last year, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t tell you shit.”
“This is ridiculous. She wasn’t pregnant. There is no baby. It has to be something else. Who else would know about her private life besides Mrs. Rushton?”
“Sal,” Giovanni said. “But he’s not answering his phone. He was running late to the opening. He texted saying he was going to be late. He never showed.”
Just then, Montana’s phone rang. “Whatcha got, kid? Excuse me? How the fuck? I thought you said that damn thing worked everywhere. Worldwide! You know what? Never mind. Just fix it and find her.”
Hanging up the phone, Montana muttered. “We need to head to the clubhouse. Pippen said the tracker isn’t working. He can’t find her anywhere. Vicious, take Linsey home then head to the clubhouse. Giovanni, you are more than welcome to stow your wife at my club. She will be safe there.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Illyria
TRIGGER WARNING:This chapter is a graphic representation of rape and physical abuse. If you suffer from any triggers, PLEASE-PLEASE, take extreme caution before reading this chapter. Your health is more important to me than my fictional story.
I thought I knew pain.
I was wrong.
The second I came face to face with Boris Petrovitch, I knew I was in trouble. The man didn’t think twice before pointing a gun at my stomach, forcing me to follow him out of the club and into a waiting car. The second the car doors closed I knew what everyone had been trying to tell me. They were right. Boris Petrovitch didn’t want Valentinetti Corporation. He wanted me and he showed me exactly how much too when he wasted no time backhanding me across the face as he revealed his true, sinister nature.
By the time we made it to his private plane, I could barely walk and had to be dragged onto the waiting plane. Thrown into a seat, one of his men hauled off and punched me, breaking my nose. There was no talking to these men. Each more vicious than the next.
All they cared about was how much pain they could inflict.
