Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“You’re useless,” was the only thing Richard Whitford had said afterward before leaving. Luke didn’t let it get to him—his father’s lack of affection was nothing new—but when James offered him a job at his company, he didn’t hesitate. He was done trying to be a good son. He was so done. His dad and Roman could kill each other for all he cared. Luke didn’t give a shit about either of them. He was going to be happy. He was going to be happy and never look over his shoulder.
With that in mind, Luke closed his eyes and thought determinedly of Dominic’s smile.
The next morning, his father’s helicopter crashed in Colombia.
Chapter 20
Roman sat at his desk in his Switzerland office, skimming over the headlines of the British newspapers Anna had brought. His gaze lingered on the front page of one of them. A photograph.
“Anything interesting?” he said.
“Not really,” Anna replied. “The funeral was three days ago. The British SIS does suspect the Colombian organized crime groups, but there’s no proof so far.”
Roman hummed. “We both know there won’t be. Lopez isn’t an amateur.”
Anna raised her eyebrows. “Since when did you become so friendly with him? Last time I checked, you despised him.”
“He has his uses,” Roman said.
An amused smile graced Anna’s normally serious face. “Yes, to do the dirty work for you, thinking he’s following his own agenda.”
Roman gave her a flat look. “Whitford did dupe him. I simply helped Lopez find out about it.”
“Out of the goodness of your heart, of course.”
That wasn’t worth commenting on, so he didn’t.
“I didn’t think you’d actually have him offed,” Anna said.
Roman shrugged. “Can’t say I’m upset about Whitford’s death, but I can’t take credit for it. I left it up to Lopez’s discretion. I don’t have that much influence over him, anyway.” He’d expected Lopez to merely rough Whitford up, not kill him. It had been a miscalculation on his part.
Perhaps that was why he hadn’t felt any particular satisfaction when he’d been informed of Whitford’s death.
Anna’s lips twisted. “It’s very rare when I agree with Lopez. The world is better off without that backstabbing asshole.” Shaking her head, Anna turned to leave.
“Anya.”
She stopped and looked at him inquiringly.
Roman’s gaze returned to the photograph of the funeral.
“Find out who that man is,” he said, pushing the newspaper across the desk so that she could see it. “Everything about him.”
“Which one?” Anna asked, without batting an eye. She was used to far stranger requests. She was a former KGB agent, after all. Very little could faze her.
Roman leaned back in his seat. “The one who has an arm around Whitford’s son.”
She shot him a sharp look.
He met her eyes steadily.
But she didn’t question his orders. She’d always been wiser than Vlad. Although she was older than Roman by fifteen years and had known him far longer than Vlad had—she had previously been Roman’s father’s bodyguard—Anna had never allowed herself to speak as freely as Vlad had. Roman knew she was fond of him, but she was a professional to the T.
When Anna left, Roman pulled the newspaper closer.
He stared at the photograph again.
The boy didn’t look particularly heartbroken by his father’s death. Given what Roman knew about Whitford, he couldn’t say he was surprised.
Luke looked…different. The golden curls were straightened and tied back, his heart-shaped face pale and blank, his dark eyes serious.
Roman found his hand gripping the armrest.
He dragged his gaze away, shifting it to the tall man who had an arm around the boy’s shoulders and who was whispering something into Luke’s ear. It looked more than friendly.
Crushing the newspaper in his hand and throwing it into the bin, Roman pressed his lips together.
Whitford was dead. The boy was no longer relevant. Any plans Roman had had concerning the boy were no longer relevant. He didn’t need any information on the man who had his hands on—
Disgusted, Roman cut off his train of thought. Perhaps Vlad had been right after all. This was unacceptable.
His phone rang.
“I’ve found the information you requested,” Anna said when he answered. “Do you want me to forward the file?”
Sometimes he wished Anna wasn’t as efficient as she was.
“Roman?” she said when he didn’t reply.
“No,” he said. “Just give me a short summary.”
“Dominic Bommer,” Anna said. “Twenty-seven, the head of the Risk Management department at Grayguard. It’s the largest financial services company in the UK—”
“I know what Grayguard is,” Roman cut her off. “I’ve met Arthur Grayson. Go on.”
“All in all, he’s made one hell of a career, and he seems to have managed that without making any enemies. Reportedly, he’s firm in his beliefs but quite nice to deal with. He owns a charming house in Kensington and—
“Sexual orientation?” Roman said.
There was silence on the line.
At last, Anna replied, “He’s not promiscuous, but he seems to be gay or bi. In one interview, he mentioned that he’s looking for a serious relationship.”