Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
While Luca goes through the inventory of what we lost at the warehouse, I watch Pru out of the corner of my eye. She’s looking around my office at all the paintings and art. I’m suddenly aware that I didn’t decorate this room, and I wonder how it looks from her perspective.
Ignoring Luca, I tap the screen on my home intercom. “Yes, Mr. Parlov,” Francis says.
“Bring some refreshments to my office. We have a guest staying with us.”
“Yes, sir,” he says before hanging up.
Luca looks annoyed at the interruption but goes back to telling me about the raid. Every time he lists something, I get pissed all over again. It’s not like I’m dealing with guns or drugs. The shit I sell out of the warehouse is small-time. It’s annoying because that was one of the bigger stocks we had. I’m confused why the cops would bust that stash when most of them know where my real money is.
Underground casinos that cater to rich assholes who think they can beat the house. Those idiots never learn, and I rake it in hand over fist. It’s one of the reasons I’m at war with Pru’s father. He wants to bicker over territory that was established long before he was put in charge. Now he’s trying to redraw the lines and expects a cut of my profits. That will happen over my dead body.
Francis wheels a cart into the office and waits for instructions. I nod toward the couch so he knows to serve Pru first. He pushes the cart over to where she’s seated and then talks quietly to her about the offerings.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should be listening to Luca. Instead, I can’t look away as Pru smiles sweetly at the older man while he pours her a cup of hot chocolate. She tries to refuse a piece of cake, but Francis insists, and she eventually takes it from him.
Francis leaves my usual evening coffee on my desk before checking with Luca to see if he needs anything. After Luca declines, he leaves us to finish our business.
“Who was supposed to be on lookout tonight?” I ask Luca after I take a drink of the coffee.
“Marshal and that new guy, Bradley. They got called inside to help unload the last truck. One of the drivers brought in an extra shipment they weren’t expecting.”
“How the fuck did the cops know we’d be there?” I ask and clench my fist on top of my desk.
“We think we’ve got an informant. Someone close to Benecci.”
Pru snorts, and we both turn our heads to stare at her. “Is something funny?” I ask, and her ice-blue eyes meet mine.
She seems to think over her answer very carefully before finally speaking. “My father is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. He’s got someone you know in his back pocket.”
“How can you be so sure?” Luca’s question comes out more like an order.
“I was told most of my life to stay quiet. After a while, they forgot I was there.” She shrugs and takes a bite of cake like it’s not a big deal. In reality, I can hear the truth in those words. She was made to be seen and not heard, but in turn, she heard it all.
Luca is thoughtful before he nods. “She could be useful.”
“No shit,” I tell him and finish the last of my coffee.
“I think what I know makes me valuable,” Pru tells us before putting the empty plate on the table. “In fact, I think it gives me a right to make a few demands.” She stands up and then points her finger in my direction. “Number one—”
Before she can list off all the things she wants, her eyes close, and she flops back down on the couch.
Luca looks stunned before he raises a brow in my direction.
I calmly stand from my desk and straighten my jacket. “Don’t worry. It was only a little something to help her sleep.”
“This is going to be very bad.”
Chapter Five
PRU
Slowly I start to wake, but it only takes me a second to realize I’m not in my bed. When I see the giant man sitting next to the bed, a small scream escapes me, and I sit up. He’s watching me like a stalker.
“You’re awake,” he says.
“Where am I?”
“In my bed.”
I scoot away, but his eyes stay on me. “Who are you?”
His brows pull together and he stands. Why does he look worried? “Pru, what do you mean, who am I?” Concern laces his words.
“I don’t know who you are,” I say flatly. He lets out a string of curses in Italian and pulls out his phone. “I don’t think I’m feeling so great.” I press the back of my hand to my forehead.
“I’ll kill him.” He swipes hard across the screen of his phone before putting it to his ear. While he does that, I grab the pillow next to me and hold it close. “Francis, what the fuck was in that?”