“Indeed.” Calin’s eyebrows rose appreciatively. “I will marry her, have us take control, with me as her husband, heading it up.” He leaned closer, elbows on his knees, peering at my face. “I had also thought, several years ago, to ensure an heir out of her, but I’ve since changed my mind. Family members are too likely, in my line of work, to stab you in the back from their position at your side.”
With a sigh, he leaned away. “I’m not an unnecessarily cruel man, Henry. I’ve done what was necessary to shore up my legacy. I bought Irina from her uncle, because marrying into the family seemed a solid step towards my goals. I have very little use for a wife outside of what she represents.”
He leaned back, stroking his beard. “Some might say it’s arrogant, to aspire to being the powerhouse responsible for joining Romania’s two biggest organised crime empires, but there you have it. I’ve done as much as I can, making Bogdan financially reliant on me, but it’s not enough. I want it all to be mine. Marrying Irina seems the only way I can make that happen.”
He tutted. “At least, without a bloodbath, which is such a waste of resources. Too many men die in the crossfire, and I need those men for the future I envisage. Besides, I’d prefer my hands to stay completely bloodless—you have no idea how difficult it is to get men to trust you when you go about murdering their colleagues willy-nilly.”
The politeness, the conversational tone, his genuine belief in hisgrandiose, villainous plans, somehow made it all even more horrifying. I tightened my jaw, trying to keep a neutral expression.
“So, you’ve made yourself indispensable to Bogdan, and his … enterprise. For you to take control—without needing a marital link to the Rusnac family—who stands in your way?” I counted them on my fingers. “Bogdan, Stefan, and Irina, am I right? There are no other stakeholders in the Rusnac clan who might challenge you should those … roadblocks be removed?”
I hated myself for reducing his criminal coup to a business deal, but a solution to all of this was forming in my brain. If it worked, Ri could walk away from this nightmare.
“There are no others,” Calin confirmed.
I lifted my hands carefully. “If you’ll permit me to reach into my pocket, I’d like to get Stefan on the phone now. I think we can make this work for you.”
Calin’s eyes lit up, his smile white and beaming. “By all means. Solve this problem for me, Henry. If you can figure out how I can have everything without getting my hands dirty … I might just let you keep your wife.”
… the princess slipped in and out of consciousness. Blissful darkness was interspersed with flashes of chaos.
Her head throbbed as she was scooped up into warm, safe arms, carried too fast along dark hallways. A voice, so longed for, murmured, “Just hold on, Catnip. Please!”
She wanted to tell the man that she had no intention of dying, that she wanted to live, if only to see his handsome face again. But blackness took her once more …
The pulsing thrum of helicopter blades. Her eyes refused to open, which was probably for the best because the dizzying feeling of flying was making her nauseous again.
She let the dark take her for a while. It was easier …
“Where the fuck is the ambulance?”It must be bad for him to be dropping F-bombs, she thought dreamily. “How far is it to the hospital, could we just drive?”
“Airlie doesn’t have a hospital, Henry. It’s about half an hour to the one in Proserpine. I’ll call triple zero again. Is she awake?”
“Barely.”
She tried to hold onto consciousness … but it slipped away again, and she fell into a deep, enchanted sleep …
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
I’m Free, Hubby
IRINA
Beep … beep … beep …
I cracked my eyes open.Pizda, they felt like craters of sand on my face, and my mouth was fuzzy.
“Catnip.” The word was spoken like a sigh at my ear, and I turned my head, wincing. I peered up into a pair of concerned green eyes. “Hey there. You thirsty?”
“Henry,” I rasped. “How did you?—”
“I’ll tell you everything once you’re sitting up and you’ve had some water. You were lucky—the concussion was only mild. The doctors think that you’ve been unconscious a lot because …”
His words trailed off and the bed buzzed as he moved it up into a reclined position. He handed me a cup of water with a straw, his fingers cool and gentle on my forehead as he smoothed some wayward strands of hair and helped me get the straw into my mouth. I took a sip and could have cried at how soothing the cold water felt hitting my tongue.
“How are you?”
I reached up to touch the back of my head. It felt bruised, but not overly painful. “I feel … better than I expected to, I guess. I’m hungry though,” I admitted.
