“Shouldn’tyoube the one helping him? Who buys a five-year-old the most complex Lego set there is?” I teased.
Ivan lifted my arm, brushing his lips against the sensitive skin. Need instantly sizzled through me. “I’ll be there in a few minutes to help. Now go.”
I bolted.
Chapter 33 – Poppy
Everything was ready. A traditional Bulgarian dinner warmed on the stove and in the oven. I outdid myself with the roasted lamb, the stuffed cabbage, and the green beans. The fluffy pogacha was the crowning achievement, but the revani—a sponge cake soaked in lemon syrup—was a close second.
It was perfect.
The sheltered, arguably spoilt mafia princess, who’d spent her exile learning and growing, was back with a vengeance. If this meal didn’t convince the developer to build on our side of the highway, the only option left was a gun pressed against his head.
I shuddered.
I wouldn’t put it past Ivan to resort to that if he was desperate enough.
“We’ll make sure it doesn’t get to that point,” I muttered, setting the last artfully folded napkin on its plate.
Looking at the clock, I was just about to order Brady inside to wash up. While other parents might send their kids away for such an important “business” dinner, I wanted him present. First, because I liked having the boy around. Second, I firmlybelieved children wanted to be involved, not pushed away and told to do their own thing. And finally, because it might help sell our cause to see a family gathered for a meal.
If the Bulgarians could mind their manners, keep their weapons safely tucked away, and be pleasant, we just might pull off this shenanigan.
The front door banged open. Angry shouts filled the front of the house.
My heart shot to my throat.What now?!
Hurrying into the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks. The developer, who I’d briefly met at Penelope’s dinner party, was tossed in a heap on the couch. His dress shirt was rumpled, dirt streaked his face and sleeves, and there was a hole in his dress pants.
But the most disturbing aspect was the binding tying his hands behind his back.
Fighting back the rolling panic, I found my voice. “What the hell is this?”
Ivan kicked off his boots. “Your dinner guest.”
I gaped at him. “What—”breath“Why—”gasp“How?”
Ivan frowned and shot a look at Rayko, who sauntered in behind him. “You wanted Harrington to come for dinner, right?”
“She’d better say yes,” Rayko grumped. “Otherwise, that was a hell of a lot of work to bring him.”
The captive, because that clearly was what he was, garbled something. I realized his mouth was gagged with a necktie. Hurrying over, I tugged at the silk band.
“Haroldsonwas supposed to be our GUEST,” I couldn’t help shouting. This was all wrong. This was…a freaking disaster. The truth was starting to become painfully clear. But still, they needed to explain themselves.
“Tell me exactly what you did,” I snapped.
“I’ll tell you,” the enraged developer bellowed. “They came into my portable office on one of my sites and kidnapped me!”
I slapped myself on the forehead. “They didn’t.”
It wasn’t a question, and I was talking to myself.
“Damn right, they did,” the developer raged, flopping over.
I jumped out of his way.
“You messed with the wrong man, Mladenov!” he shouted.
