“Good. At least you have something to do to keep you from meddling all the time. That or going out to speakeasies with your slutty friend.”
“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that,” I snap, standing right in front of him with my body practically pressed against his. But before I can say anything else, he goes on.
“I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but my life? It’s on fire right now. It’s been on fire for a while. Or have you forgotten since you stopped working as my assistant and just shifted to a full-time pain in my ass?” He takes another gulp from the bottle.
I rip it from his hand while he’s mid-chug.
His eyes turn black. “Woman…”
“I need to talk to you!” I stop my foot. “And do not call mewoman.I have a name.”
“Did you not fucking hear me just now?”
“Oh, I hear you loud and clear, Mr. Rozanov. But you’re not hearing me! Tristan is going to kill you!”
“What’s new?”
“I don’t mean as a threat. He is actively trying to figure out how to eliminate you and your family and everyone you care about.”
“And how would you know that?” He shoves around me. “Been hanging out with him again, have you?”
I am seriously two seconds away from ripping his dick off. “No. I was talking to Gianni. He called me and I went over there and he said that Tristan?—”
I am cut off when Ransome’s phone buzzes and his expression drops. “What the fuck?”
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s your brother,” he says, his body language stiff and urgent.
“Gianni?” I ask, rushing over to him. “He’s texting you?”
“Not exactly.”
Ransome shows me his phone. The text is not from Gianni. It’s a photoofGianni. The text is from Tristan.
“What is that?” I blurt out before my voice goes even more frantic. “Ransome! What is that?!”
“He has your brother.”
Ransome’s words level me. Like a cinderblock falling on my stomach, forcing the air and the life from my lungs.
I can’t breathe at all. I can’t process anything. The words in the room go to a screaming white noise as my worst fear comes true.
The photo is of Gianni, sitting in a chair. Tied to the chair. He’s bound and gagged and oh my God.
Oh my God.
“We have to do something.” I realize that I’m sobbing. Hyperventilating. Losing my mind.
“No.” He shakes his head heading for his office. “I have to do something. You have to stay here.”
A moment later, he reappears with a pistol.
“What are you going to do with that?!”
He checks the bullet chamber and locks it back in place. “I’m going to take care of things.”
“Okay, wait.” I trail after him as my mind races. “Maybe there’s another way to do this. Maybe?—”
