Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it.
Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
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“KILL THE GIRL.”
It’s how my father chooses to greet me over the stained wood of his office desk, his whiskey colored eyes filled with rage. I adjust the cufflinks of my suit and mask my irritation.
The Morozovs have festered bad blood with the Costas for almost a century, fighting for dominance over the city’s upstate territories. After what they’ve done now, my father wants me to dispose of Anastasia Morozov, their eldest daughter.
“Patience.” I grit my teeth. “Is a virtue.”
My father grumbles.
He may have the brute strength necessary to be boss, but he’s blinded by vengeance and ignorance. Too set in his old-fashioned thinking and heavily disapproving of working with non-Italians. If it were up to him, the Morozov vermin would have been culled years ago. I don’t quite agree with his logic.
The Morozovs are worth way more to us alive than dead. No one is better than laundering money through law firms than the Morozov boss. No one knows the law like him. He racks up millions in tax fraud yearly turning illegal reserves into legal ones, and we can’t afford to lose his allegiance.
Even if I want to choke him with my bare hands.
I clamp down on my jaw. “Where the fuck is Luca?”
My father rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Downstairs.”
Rhaegar, my bull mastiff and frankly, the only living being I can stomach, accompanies me at the bottom of the staircase as I stride down the hallway of my business condo.
Female moans echo through the guest room door before I swing it open.
And there my cousin is, fucking one of our servants. They’re both half naked, covered in thin sheen of sweat, and engaged in some sort of fucked up bondage experiment. But instead of arousing me, the sight just annoys me.
This is exactly why I have a business condo and personal one. Mixing business and pleasure is . . . uncivilized.
Luca curses, pulling out of her. The girl averts her gaze from me. Her back’s arched and she’s tied up everywhere, but she might as well be part of the wallpaper for me.
Luca gives me a flat look. “You should knock.”
A sneer pulls at my mouth. “You should shut the fuck up.”
I gave my cousin a week’s break after he returned from Italy before assigning him a task, and he didn’t complete it. I should slit his throat for incompetence, but Luca’s a sick motherfucker who’d probably enjoy the whole thing.
I gesture vaguely to the girl. “International pussy didn’t satisfy you enough?”
Luca shoots me a grin, zipping up his pants. “Nothing like what you get back home.”
