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Georgina’s stay with the Black River Wolves pack was bound to be much more interesting than she originally thought.
To be continued . . .
My mind is still racing as I hold the mouse over the send button for almost a minute before finally hitting it.
The phone rings ten minutes later. Don Ajello’s number lights up the screen.
“Silvia,” I say as I answer the call, “you got my submission, I assume?”
“Pack?” Ajello’s grim voice comes across the line. “Transylvania Bears?”
“It’s a code,” I whisper into the phone. “Transylvania Bears stands for the Romanians.”
“I can’t decipher your nonsense, Sienna. Start speaking.”
I slump down on the edge of the bed and sigh. “Drago is handling everything around here. Filip, his second-in-command, oversees the execution of things. They launder the money through the club.”
“I already knew all that. What else?”
“They have some problems with the Romanians. I didn’t catch much, only that Drago upped the security.”
“Your husband had a big deal go down the week you two got married. Did it have anything to do with the Romanians?”
“I haven’t heard any details.”
“And what was that garbage about caves?”
“Many of his men are living here, in Drago’s house.”
“How many?”
I grind my teeth together and bury my hand in my hair. It feels wrong to tell him all this.
“How many, Sienna?”
“Forty-eight,” I mutter.
“And how many men does he have overall?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, find out. Fast,” he orders and cuts the call.
I look down at the phone in my hand, then throw it on the bed and dash out of the room.
“Sienna!” Jelena calls after me as I’m heading across the foyer “Would you . . .”
I ignore her and burst through the front door. It’s a bit chilly outside but I don’t head back to get my jacket.
There are several men loitering in front of the huge garage building that houses multiple bays for over a dozen cars situated to the left of the mansion, so I turn right and run toward the trees, away from everyone. The sour taste in my mouth won’t leave me and only becomes worse with each passing minute. What will Ajello do with the information I provided? When I agreed to this stupid plan, it didn’t sound too bad. But now . . .
I gave him the number of people who live here, in the house. That has to be one of the least meaningful pieces of information. It’s not as if the don is planning on invading Drago’s home, but still, divulging that detail makes me feel so dirty.
I like the people here, and it feels like I’m betraying them. Most days, Drago is already gone by the time I wake up, except for the mornings when he drags me out jogging with him. But that only happens three times a week, and we spend about an hour pounding the dirt around the estate grounds. After that, he leaves, and I rarely see him again until dinner time. I’ve already read all the books I brought with me, which leaves me to spend my days writing in my new notebook or helping Keva in the kitchen.
If Asya saw me now, she would die laughing. At home, I don’t think I’ve fried eggs on my own more than a handful of times. Here, though, I find it surprisingly fulfilling to be involved in the kitchen. The house is always teaming with people. Yes, it can get insane with everyone speaking at the same time and bumping into each other, but it’s fun. Before, when it was just Arturo, Asya, and me, it was nice, too. But here . . . It’s one big, strange family and, despite my obvious inexperience, I enjoy the mayhem even more. It’s hard to feel alone with so many people around.
They hardly know me, but among them, I don’t feel like an outsider. When I went into the kitchen the other day, still shaken after meeting Drago’s dogs, Keva made me a hot chocolate and demanded I tell her who had upset me so she could whip their butts. And yesterday, when I was complaining that the shoes I wanted were sold out online, Mirko heard me and told me to email him the link so he could “handle it.” The shoes arrived the same evening.
