AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Drago is the modern man’s equivalent of King Midas.
He’s bedecked his kingdom in the best his money can buy. From all accounts, he moved to this area of the Great Lakes only months ago. The spread was either in place already, the mansion purchased as is, or he’d paid someone extra to outfit it the way he wanted in a short amount of time.
The guards who met us at the entrance lead us down a massive hallway two stories tall and just as wide. The back end of the house is closed off by another set of doors large enough to rival the entryway, and two more men wait to pull those open as well.
Drago holds court in the center of the living room with a crystal glass of something amber in his hand. He turned to us the moment the doors opened and inclined his head in greeting.
My mouth immediately waters, desperate for the burn of liquor, and I reel myself back. A few sips, if offered, and no more. My head has to be completely clear in order to make it through this shitshow.
Drago gestures for the guards to lead us inside, and the moment we step foot across the magnificent threshold, the doors shut behind us. Isabella stiffens at my side to the point where I risk cutting a sideways glance at her, hoping she catches me. It’s a reminder to keep her game face on.
I wouldn’t blame her for breaking apart before, during, or after our visit. Any person would in this case, especially when she hasn’t just dipped her toes into an unfamiliar pool but been tossed into the deep end wearing a straightjacket and an anchor.
Several men stand with Drago, all of them wearing suits more expensive than a new car and cufflinks designed to catch the light of the chandelier overhead. They wear matching expressions of disdain despite their differences in height, weight, and age.
“Welcome.” Drago opens his arms to take in the expansive room. “It is good of you to show up on time.” His eyes narrow on me slightly, and I straighten further. “I did not expect you to actually make the appearance, Mr. Assante.”
I cut a low bow at the waist. “I aim to please. Punctuality is a most important virtue.”
Except Drago is already focused on Isabella at my side. So are the others. They eye her the way a pack of circling vultures zeroes in on a fresh kill.
“Look at this.” The man on the left leers at her to the point where the small hairs on the back of my neck rise, and my mouth goes dry. He looks like he wants to break her into tiny pieces and leave her here. “Gorgeous, isn’t she? Better than you described, Drago.”
Rather than backing down under the scrutiny, she squares her shoulders and loosens her hold on the silk of her dress. “Would you prefer a picture?” she asks. Immediately violating the one thing we’d talked about in the car. “My right side is my best.”
“Someone brought us a present. Looks good enough to eat.” Her words are ignored entirely. “I wouldn’t mind taking a bite.”
The other men stay silent when Drago lifts a finger, drawing the attention of the room. The older man licks his lips, and I want to rip it out of his fucking mouth.
“She belongs to me, gentlemen,” Drago says in an undertone. “You will all do well to remember that. You can look, but you may not touch without my permission.”
The scrawny guy on his left lets out a donkey-bray laugh, his eyes glittering. He doesn’t seem the type to listen well to orders, the chip on his shoulder the size of the state.
I catalog his face and tuck the information away for later.
“Ah, now we can begin the meat of the discussion. Don’t we, gentlemen?” I take a step in front of Izzy, not to the point where I’m blocking her with my body, but to let the others know without a shadow of a doubt I am the one they need to focus on. “I believe a little negotiation is in order.”
Drago lifts a second finger, and a servant, a slender woman with large, mousy ears, steps forward with a crystal decanter in her hand. She produces several glasses from the other hand she kept behind her back, and Drago instructs her to pour.
Those two glasses are handed out, one to me, one to Isabella. She stares at the liquid like she’s been given a shot of venom and asked to down it in one gulp.
“I wasn’t aware we had anything to negotiate,” Drago says once I’ve taken my first sip. “These types of things are usually cut and dry. She accepted my gift, so she is mine.” He shrugs his massive shoulders in a c'est la vie gesture.
Guards would have been really fucking nice, a gentle reminder of the power at my back. Except tonight isn’t about showing my hand too quickly. It’s a dance where I take a step forward, allowing Drago to see that he is the one who leads, only to be crowned the victor at the end.
Or so I hope.
“Drink, my dear, drink. It’ll help settle your nerves.” Drago directs his next smile at Isabella. “It is a very good Balvenie scotch. Will help you with the chill, I’m sure. You’re wearing practically nothing.”
She scrunches up her nose and takes a sniff of the liquid but does not drink. Thatta girl.
Without waiting to be offered a seat, I head for the couch and sprawl at one side, my arm over the back. I take another sip of the scotch. “You seem like an amenable man, Mr. Prokhor, with a long-reaching vision for the future. It seems to me you prefer to plan ahead, and you know the exact right moment to make your move and strike. Am I right?”
Drago narrows his eyes on me and stays standing. “Go on.”
Play to the ego, stroke it. It’s such a familiar rhythm I find myself almost enjoying the back and forth.
“You know as well as I do that targeting the middle daughter of Edward Balestra was a smart tactic. She is the weakest link.” I refuse to look at Isabella even when she sucks in a breath. “However, along the same vein, it is also a grab for low-hanging fruit. She’s not a part of this world and thus unaware of your intentions. She truly believed you when you offered her the bracelet. She’s been kept out of this world and does not understand our rules. You’re punching down.”
