Besides, what about Nikolai Rogov? Sure, the man is a notorious criminal, but why would he lie to me about my mom’s death? What’s in it for him? And if by some miracle he’s telling the truth about Timur not being responsible for Mom’s murder, then who was it? And why was Timur there when it happened?
Dammit!
Right now, there are more questions than answers. But I know one thing for sure.
I won’t stop until I know the whole truth.
Chapter Six
Nikolai
It’s been two weeks since Timur’s wedding.
Two weeks since I chained Lauren Watson to my bed.
I grab my coffee-to-go from the counter—black americano—and make my way to the exit. That’s when I spot her in the corner, head buried in her laptop.
I pause.
Coincidence, this time.
Admittedly, these past two weeks, I’ve been hacking into her GPS and following her around. She doesn’t suspect a thing. Or maybe she does. I don’t care. I have no other choice butto keep an eye on her. As Charles Watson’s daughter, she could be a pretty little spy and a threat to my business. She needs to be watched. And the fact that she started digging into things she should stay away from is only making me more vigilant.
Her best friend marrying Timur must’ve really pissed her off because even now, she’s sniffing around where she shouldn’t be. She has no idea of the forces she’s playing with. She needs to stop prancing around in her heels and pencil skirts like a top-secret investigator before she pisses off someone like Aslanov and gets us all killed.
Although, the style doessuit her. She keeps her posture straight, even when she thinks nobody is looking. Even when she’s collecting groceries—she shops at Whole Foods—she does it in style. Yesterday, she ran errands in a red pencil skirt and black collared shirt. The day before that, she walked into a pilates class wearing a matching black set that sat low on her cleavage.
People turn and look at her.
She draws attention without even meaning to.
She’s well put together, seems to live in a land of her own, only concerned with her own goals and actions. I must admit—it’s refreshing to see a woman move through the world with such confidence. Last week, I got a bit too close and caught a whiff of her perfume. I was leaning against a wall, sunglasses on, and she walked right past me, heels clacking against the pavement as she made her way to the office.
My balls tensed in an instant.
Today, she sits sipping coffee in a black, mid-length bodycon dress, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. A pair of slender glasses sits across her nose as she inspects the screen closely.
I wonder if Aslanov has eyes on her as well as me.
He probably does.
There’s a part of me that’s also starting to think that she’s innocent. If she fully understood where her actions could lead, she’d be more careful. And she’s anything but. Instead, she seems hot-headed and relentless. Not a good combination if she wants to stay alive in my world. Unless she has a death wish, but I doubt she’s one of those people.
I loiter at the coffee counter watching her. Innocent or not, she’s a liability. Reckless. And with Aslanov laying low, watching from the shadows like a nocturnal predator waiting for its next kill, the last thing I need is a hot-headed woman accidentally exposing Bratva secrets. If she’s anything like she was the day of the ceremony—persistent, unwilling to give up—it’s only going to be a matter of time before she stumbles into something that gets us into a world of trouble.
You could take the shortcut, mudak.
Get rid of her and be done with it.
Yeah, I could. But it would raise eyebrows. The infamous Charles Watson’s daughter found dead in a ditch wouldn’t keepthe press quiet. Headlines would be everywhere. Not to mention there’s a part of me that doesn’t want her dead. Would be a waste of beauty. I’d rather have her beneath me, those long legs wrapped around my waist while I fuck the defiance right out of her.
She lowers the laptop lid, shoots up and heads to the restroom.
I release a breath and check my phone, opening the text I got from Timur earlier.
“Things are going well with Sophia. We actually get along.”
I smirk. It doesn’t surprise me much. Their personalities are well suited.
