Stop thinking about him, Lauren!
I brush away the thought, take another sip of coffee, and look outside. The sun shines brightly and makes the city look better than it actually is. Atlanta is home, but it’s nothing too special. Just like most cities in the US,it’s a concrete jungle that houses people who are just trying to get by.
I don’t mind Atlanta—it holds a piece of Mom. Sometimes, I take detours and walk past the Italian restaurant where Mom and I dined for my 18th birthday. Father was too busy with ‘business’ to join us. The place got shut down last year because the cops found out that it was owned by the Italian mafia—they were using it as a front for money laundering. The windows areall boarded up now, so it isn’t what it used to be, but the building still holds Mom’s memory.
I sip my coffee and continue staring outside when I see two men exit our building. I sit forward, recognizing them instantly. They were guests at Sophia and Timur’s wedding. The tattooed necks, broad shoulders, and dark suits make it all too obvious. The way they move—calculated, predatory—sends a chill down my spine. These aren’t businessmen. These are enforcers.
What the hell were those guys doing inside our building?
I gulp down the rest of my coffee, toss the cup in the trash, and storm into Father’s office without thinking.
He swivels around in his chair, meeting my face with a frown.
“What are you doing here?”
“I work here. You hired me, remember?” Taking a spare seat, I invite myself to sit down and face him. “Who were those people?”
“What people?”
“The two men that just left the building,” I press. “What were they doing here? And don’t tell me it’s business.”
He stares at me long and hard. “They’re potential investors.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know exactly what that means.”
“They’re from the wedding, aren’t they? They’re members of the Bratva. What were they doing here, Dad? What do they want to invest in?”
Father sighs and swivels his ergonomic chair all the way around to face me. Today, he wears a charcoal suit the same gray color as his bushy eyebrows. “Look, Lauren, I have a busy day ahead and don’t have time for this. You get on with your tasks, and I’ll get on with mine.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What sort of business do they have here?”
Another long, hard stare. “Business is business.”
Typical.
“Yes. But what—”
“My business. Now,” he says, rising from his chair, “if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.” He walks over to the door and opens it for me.
Dammit!
I can feel my anger surge, but this time, I keep my mouth shut. Instead of saying something snappy, I push myself up and stomp out the door. Father closes it behind me, shutting the blinds the instant I’m out.
Real nice, Dad.
I lean against the wall and let out a frustrated groan. All this secrecy is starting to piss me off. Something isn’t right. First, Sophia gets married to a killer, then Father starts making business deals with Bratva people. Add in the mysterious offshore company, Sentinel International, the fact that my father is moving huge amounts to their account, and it’s clear that something seriously screwed up is going on.
And I’m going to find out exactly what.
***
Back home, I sink into the couch and bring my laptop onto my knee.
It’s been a long two weeks since the wedding. Sleep hasn’t been a priority lately, and the exhaustion is finally starting to catch up with me. My fingers ache from all of the typing, from all the research I’ve been trying to do in my free time.
I’m not really getting anywhere.
