Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Then Iosif was murdered while he was distracted by the whole mafia bullshit.”
Oh.
That’s why she was so angry, so hurt, so ready to exact some vengeance.
“He could not see the true snake in his organization, he was too distracted by Donovan.”
“How did you meet Donovan?” I asked. “If you weren’t working for the organization at the time,” I clarified.
I wanted to keep her talking just to let as much time pass as possible. I had played intentionally dumb several times already, making her spell things out a few times.
But it was more than that.
I truly did want to understand.
This was a part of Donovan’s life I’d never heard about. I wanted to hear it all.
“I met him at a bar,” she said. “Told him my name was, well, your name, actually.”
That was an insane coincidence.
“My best friend as a girl, she had your name. I used it since Natalya is too Russian.”
“Smart,” I said, nodding. “And what did you do? Seduce him?” I asked.
“That was my plan. But,” she said, snorting. “He did not bite. So I followed him.”
Okay.
I won’t lie.
I got a small ego boost at that.
I mean, objectively, this woman was prettier than I was. I knew that. But Donovan didn’t want her. And he did want me.
“Where did he go?”
“To an Italian restaurant. But me, I’m not stupid. I knew who owns that restaurant. And I watched Donovan go in through to the back patio. Where only members of the mafia go. It was not hard to figure out the rest. So I got a picture. And I sent it in the mail to Iosif.”
“What happened to Donovan?” I asked, heart tightening in my chest even though I knew that, whatever happened, he’d survived it.
“He should have died. That is the way,” she said, shrugging off murder like it was no big deal. Maybe, to her, it wasn’t. “He was meant to, I am sure. They would not have left him if they thought he could survive. But, apparently,” she said, waving a hand out.
So, she blamed Iosif for being distracted by Donovan’s “betrayal” for Iosif’s murder.
“How did Iosif die?” I asked, feeling like I was missing vital pieces of the puzzle.
“His grandson. Rolan. Murdered him at the dinner table,” she said, face twisting up in rage. “No one even tried to save him,” she added, and her words took on a hint of despair.
She would have saved him. That was the part she wasn’t saying out loud. If she hadn’t been kicked out, if she hadn’t been replaced by Donovan before she could prove her innocence, she would have been there.
“Can I… make an observation?” I asked.
To that, she raised a brow which I went ahead and took as acceptance.
“It doesn’t sound like Donovan is really to blame for any of this. It sounds like Rolan is.”
“Rolan will get what is coming to him,” she vowed. “And Donovan is guilty of betrayal. Snakes and rats, they deserve death in our world.”
“But… why take me?” I asked. “I’m not a part of all of that. I just… I fell for someone after I did what I thought was a good deed.”
“You are to draw him out,” she said, shrugging. “Let him know the pain of possibly losing someone he loves. Let him know even a moment of my agony.”
“But… but Donovan doesn’t love me. You miscalculated.”
To that, she blew out her breath and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be dumb. Dumb is never a good look on a woman. He loves you. Anyone with eyes could see it. And I feel bad for you, I do. It’s not fair. For you to lose someone you love. But, then, when is life ever fair for us?” she asked, that coldness sneaking back into her tone. Gone was the anger and grief, replaced with something else. Trauma, maybe. Old trauma, if she had time to ice herself toward it.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“Kill you? Why would I kill you?” she asked, face scrunching up. “Did you murder a man I cared for?”
“I, ah, no. I can’t even kill a spider,” I admitted. “Not even the creepy ones in the garden with like a billion babies on their backs that I know are going to scurry off and freak me out.”
The very blank look she shot me said that she could not relate to that particular struggle.
“But… I’ve seen your face,” I said, not understanding. Wasn’t that the rule? If they took you to a second location and they showed you their face, you were definitely going to die.
“Yes. And I’ve seen yours. And your sister’s. I know where you live. You get what I am saying here, yes?” she asked.
She wasn’t exactly subtle with that threat, was she?
“Yes,” I said, nodding.
“And after your lover comes here, and he pays for what he has done, I will drop you somewhere. Then you can go back to your life. Writing silly articles. Going to bookstores. Never taking risks.”