What the hell is he doing here?
I wish it wasn’t him, but it is. My dear old father. The burgundy suit is nothing new—he only owns tailored clothes, buthis hair has been styled back, and he only bothers with his hair if it’s a special occasion.
“It’s good to see you again, Timur. Congratulations.” I hear him say to the man.
Timur?
Like… Timur Gusev?
There’s always been something shady about my father that I’ve never been able to put my finger on. He likes to make deals. Not strictly legal ones. But he’s always been careful to hide the details of his operations from me.
I just never thought he’d be shaking hands with the enemy responsible for Mom’s death.
Chapter Four
Nikolai
The reception has died down a little, but I still hear the viola melodies and the buzz coming from the court.
I recline in my chair and stare at my desktop like it holds all of the answers to my burning questions. Trouble is, when it comes to Ronan Aslanov, there are no answers. No obvious ones, anyway.
A part of me thought he would make a move on the chessboard tonight. He’s been quiet for too long, and that always raises my suspicions. That’s the thing about Ronan. He’s like a shark lurking beneath the surface of the water, watching, observing. Waiting for the perfect moment to show his teeth, destroy, and then submerge again. He’s been plotting a coup for years, trying to steal my empire from me. I know he won’t stop biting.
A knock at the door jolts me out of my thoughts.
“Enter.”
Timur walks in, tie loose and the top button of his shirt undone. This looks more like the man I work with every day.
“I didn’t think you’d be disappearing this early. Something going on?” He quietly closes the door behind him. “Or, should I saysomeone?”
I tilt my head. “What are you talking about?”
He pulls his mouth into a sly grin. “The woman from earlier. Sophia’s friend. You two seemed to be getting on well.”
“Not the way you think,mudak. She wanted to shut down the wedding.”
Timur’s expression shifts. He strides over and sets his hands on the desk. “Why the fuck would Lauren want to do that?”
“Lauren?”
Timur nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“I’m looking into it now.” I return my eyes to the screen and actually make use of the computer instead of staring at it. That’s when it hits me.
Lauren.
I bring the keyboard to my hands and search her up. I only know of two Laurens. One was a hookup that happened some years ago. The other is Charles Watson’s daughter. A money-hungry old fucker with complicated ties to our world.
I type ‘Lauren Watson’ into the search bar, andblyad… there she is. She looks just as good in her LinkedIn photo as she does in person. She stares directly into the camera, wearing a bright red shirt, hair styled the same way it was today. Loose, brown curls. Ones I’d like to bury my hands in as I take her from behind.
I bring up the image. Captioned underneath:Lauren Watson, Vice President of Portfolio Investment at Watson and Co. Holdings.
So she works at her father’s business.
I scoff. Charles fucking Watson’s offspring. The guy’s a liability. He’s been illegally shifting money through shell companies for years. Some of the companies connect back to my father’s old businesses, so the two bastards definitely had some past dealings together.
I just wish I knew this earlier.
