He’d claimed it had nothing to do with her, that he’d explain when I came over. A wind of relief washed over my face. Since our talk wasn’t going to revolve around my mother’s health, it couldn’t possibly be that big a deal.
I told my husband that I was going to see my grandpa, and he didn’t object. He ordered five of his best men to drive me to the Beaumont estate.
When I got there, the guards waited for me in the living room while I went upstairs to Grandpa’s study.
“There she is,” he said, his voice a bit lighter than usual. He had this strange grin on his face, although his expression remained neutral.
I closed the door behind me and walked over to the visitor’s chair. “You asked to see me?
“I did,” he answered. “Take a seat.”
I pulled the chair and sat on it. “So, what’s this about?”
“Straight to business.” He reached for a bottle of scotch on his table. “I respect that.”
I watched him pour himself a glass.
He glanced up at me. “Scotch?”
“No, thank you.”
“Tell me,” he took a sip, then asked, “how close are you to your husband?”
I knitted my brows, unsure of what he meant by that. “Um…I don’t—I don’t understand the question.”
“How much do you know about his work?”
I thought for a second. “Well, as his personal assistant, I’d say I know enough.”
“Does this include his shady businesses?”
I shrugged my shoulders casually. “Pretty much. Yes.”
“Interesting.” He sipped from his again.
“What’s with all the questions? Is everything all right?” I asked, my tone laced with a hint of suspicion.
“Everything’s fine,” he answered. “I just need a little something from you.”
I tilted my head to the side, my suspicion growing more and more intense by the second. “And what’s that?”
“Information.” He leaned in with both elbows on his table, his eyes pinned on me. “I want updates on the Tarasov family business, both legal and illegal.”
“What?” My brows rose in disbelief.
He continued, “I want to know every major plan they make the second they make them.” He paused, letting his word sink in. “And that’s where you come in.”
My eyes widened ever so slightly. “You want me to spy on my husband?” I hushed my tone.
“Spy is a strong word. I just need you to report back to me every now and then.”
“Why?”
He paused. “There’s a lot at play here that you do not understand, child.”
“I understand treachery.”
“Oh, please, you don’t even like the man,” he blurted out, reclining in his chair. “I’m aware of your one-year contract with him. You’re literally two enemies forced into a union neither of you wanted.”
