Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“From the back?” I asked Leon.
“I was feeling fanciful,” he told me.
The burly construction worker’s body collapsed into a slimmer, elegant shape.
“I thought it went rather well, all things considered,” Augustine Montgomery said.
Chapter 12
Alessandro was waiting for me in front of the office with his arms crossed over his chest. He must’ve checked with Bern, and Bern told him exactly who I went to meet but not where, just like I asked him.
The best defense was a vigorous offense.
I parked the car, walked over to him, and brushed a kiss on his cheek.
“I’m not mad about your fiancée,” I told him and walked past him into the building.
It took him exactly three seconds to recover. By the time I sat down behind my desk, he was in the doorway of my office.
“You left the Compound.” He walked in and shut the door.
“I did.”
“I asked you to wait, and you left. And you didn’t take a protective detail with you.”
“I took Leon, Augustine, and about twenty MII employees. They secured the area prior to my arrival.”
I had discussed hiring MII with him while Konstantin had called home requesting permission for our deal with the Imperium. Originally, I wanted MII so we could pull all of Arkan’s hidden informants off the street at the same time. It was an operation that required manpower we didn’t have. Asking Augustine to put on a show for Christina’s benefit was last minute, but he enjoyed demonstrations of power and he was so good at them.
Alessandro shook his head. “That’s not the point. I didn’t want you involved in this.”
“Well, in that case, you should’ve told me. You never said, ‘Don’t go to meet my secret fiancée,’ Alessandro.” I spread my arms.
“She is not my secret fiancée,” he ground out.
“You may want to tell her that. During one of your secret phone calls, perhaps.”
He cursed in Italian.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Because it’s my mess. My baggage. I never wanted the two of you to meet. In fact, I specifically told both Christina and my mother that she was not to come to the US.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I won’t allow my family’s scheming to affect what we have. I will handle it. She won’t bother you again.”
I rubbed my face. I didn’t even know what to do with that.
“I have no plans . . .” he began.
“You’ve been working yourself to a stupor for months so we could buy the Compound and then make improvements to it. This is my so-called baggage. This whole conflict is my baggage, because if I wasn’t the Deputy we wouldn’t be in this mess. So, you are allowed to carry my baggage, but I’m not allowed to carry yours.”
“That’s different,” he said.
“How?”
“It just is.”
“Well, let me know when you think of a way to explain it to me so my little brain can understand.”
“It won’t be an issue again.”
I wanted to shake him. “I’m mad at you.”
“I know.”
“I want it officially noted.”
“Should I prepare a document signed by two witnesses to acknowledge you being mad at me?”
“No, you should tell me when your family forces things on you. You should tell me when you’re having a hard time, because I love you and I know when something is wrong, and I worry. I didn’t go to meet her because I thought you were going off with her. I went there because we grabbed Arkan’s informant and she popped out of nowhere with an ‘I’m here for my fiancé’ announcement. I went to assess a threat. I had no idea—I still have no idea—if she is here because it’s a coincidence or because Arkan found a way to pressure your family and her presence is the result of a long chain of events he set in motion. You didn’t tell me anything. I get it that you think it’s beneath you to ask me for help or to accept help from me since I must be utterly useless and incompetent, but could you at least inform me of this kind of shit out of courtesy?”
He took a step back with his hands in the air in front of him.
My phone rang. I took the call and did my best not to snarl. “Yes?”
“The Spa called,” Patricia said.
The Spa, otherwise known as the Shenandoah State Correctional Facility, a white-collar prison for the rich and famous. Ice slid down my spine.
“There’s been an incident. Your grandmother was hurt.”
I marched through the central hallway of the Spa like I owned it. People saw my face and got out of the way. In all honesty, it probably wasn’t me. It was Alessandro looming next to me, looking like he would run over anyone who got in our way.
I’d called back to the Spa and had a conversation with a somber deputy warden which had taken twice as long as it should have because she was choosing her words like she was picking out the best apples at the market. My grandmother was attacked and injured. She was taken to the infirmary. She was also a little upset by the incident, so the Spa would be happy to waive the normal visiting procedures for my arrival. Translation: Victoria Tremaine is furious, so please, please, please hurry up and soothe her before everyone’s brains start leaking out of their ears, thank you.