I pick up my phone and sit on the edge of the bed. Before I can second-guess myself, I type quickly and hit send.
Afrim Përmeti is dead. Security is tighter than usual around the estate because of the funeral guests. Can’t sneak out to meet you without being detected. I tried and was questioned. Can’t risk it again or my cover will be blown.
Will that work? Will he buy it without raising his suspicions?
He better not insist I come anyway, or it will be his funeral right after his brother-in-law’s.
I chew my thumbnail as I wait for a response.
But he doesn’t keep me waiting long.
UNKNOWN
When will you be able to leave the estate without your cover getting blown?
I’ll need a week or two.
UNKNOWN
You have three days. Find a way to come out and meet me or I’ll assume you’ve been compromised. What will happen to poor Kayla then?
Rage burns through my veins at his implied threat, my hands clenching my phone tightly, wishing it were Fabian Besharun’s stupid neck.
Noted.
I drop my phone on the bed and sink forward, elbows on my thighs, face buried in my hands.Fuck. I need to act quickly within the next three days.
How am I going to play this? Do I dare try to take on one of the most powerful Albanian mafia families in the States on my own? That’s suicide.
If my suspicions are right and that ledger is what triggered Afrim’s fatal heart attack, then Roan deserves to know about his uncle’s betrayal. Somehow, I doubt Afrim’s death is going to stop Fabian’s twisted plan. What would he even gain from Afrim and Roan’s deaths anyway?
But I already know the answer. Their territory. Their power. Their money. Everything they’ve built.
My breath hitches, my heart squeezing painfully.
Oh Roan.
29
ROAN
My head is pounding from too little sleep and too much work. After the funeral yesterday, I haven’t left my office. I physically can’t make myself walk out that door.
So I've been pushing myself mercilessly, throwing myself into work, clearing the backlog, and even signing the contracts with the new architects Rafael recommended. With the way things are finally progressing, my restaurant will be completed by the end of the year, and the hotel will be halfway done by then.
It’s great news. Excellent, actually, after the numerous frustrating delays these projects have faced over the past few months.
But it’s not nearly enough.
I wantedAtëto see the finished work.
I'm half-staring at the blank screen on my computer, lost somewhere between silence and exhaustion, when my office door opens. I glance up to find Dhimitër standing in the doorway, his lips flattened in disapproval. Then he steps back, revealing the woman behind him.
Katie.
My pulse kicks up instantly, and every exhausted cell in my body suddenly snaps to attention.
"Miais here to see you," he says, eyes filled with warning. He wants me to say no, to dismiss her like the threat he believes she is.
