Page 7 of Kidnapped Bratva Toy
Still…
Something trembled within me as I tried to pry my eyes off him. Mr. Vadim circled the car, leaving my view, and then reappeared, jogging up the stairs to the house. Whatever he was carrying looked heavy, and he was briskly climbing those steps like it was nothing. So, damn hot.
“No! No, no, no. You will not be attracted to someone like that. He’s involved with this fucking case, for God’s sake. His business is corrupt!”
I shook myself, sliding back over the seat behind the wheel. I needed out of there. I needed to go back to my office. My cheeks burned as I turned the ignition, and my heart went a million miles a minute.
“You are so pathetic. This is just because you need to get laid. Which never happens. Ugh.”
Driving off, I steadfastly told myself to ignore any and all funny business coming from my downstairs brain and refocused on my dream to be partner. Partner, then your own firm. Don’t forget it, Billie. Do not forget it.
Chapter 4 - Pietor
The abandoned warehouse stunk like piss and stale alcohol. There were several used needles and condoms scattered across the broken concrete flooring, and everything was covered in a layer of grime and dirt that made my stomach twist.
“Why is it always shit holes like this with these guys? Couldn’t just be a restaurant where you own the help? Fuck.”
Graffiti with varying levels of skill covered the walls, and I took my time studying the phrases, trying to get a feel for whose territory the artists thought this was. After all, mobs and gangs were just two sides of the same coin, and I’d worked with a few when our paths crossed in search of a particular scumbag who was trying to screw us both over.
“Perusing the art, Pietor?”
Emiliano’s thick accent cut through my thoughts, and I turned around to face the fucker. He was wearing his usual—a long tan jacket made from suede and a cream turtle neck. He’d paired them with gray slacks today and a pair of fucking loafers that made me want to hurl, aiming it precisely for those stupid fucking tassels.
“We’re in Creed territory, according to this.” I pointed at the familiar logo of an eagle clutching an eyeball. “You ever do business with them? Because I have.”
Emiliano sneered at me, his slicked-back, wavy hair gleaming in the harsh daylight that bounced off the otherwise white walls.
“Why the fuck would I degrade myself and do business with some cheap thugs.” He sucked his cheeks before smirking at me. “Oh, wait. That’s what I’m doing with you.”
It was a petty insult, so I didn’t let it ruffle my feathers. It was going to take a lot more than that to piss me off and make me sloppy.
“Is that what you’re doing? Business? And here I thought you were fucking suing us. How silly of me.”
The guy didn’t flinch, holding that damn grin as he eyed me. “I suppose we’ll just cut straight to it then, yeah?”
“If you don’t mind. I really hate my time being wasted.”
Emiliano stepped forward, pulling out a cigar from the inside pocket of his jacket. Retrieving a lighter from his slack, he lit it up, puffing at the blunt end to get the coals going. I rolled my eyes, sighing as the asshole went about his nonsense with the damn cigar until he felt like sharing.
I crossed my arms over my chest when he finished, tucking the lighter back into his pocket. “That smells like shit.”
“That,” he sucked in a large cloud, billowing it out with a firm breath in my direction, “is because you have no class, Pietor. Too bad that can’t be taught.”
“If you’re done. I have shit to do.”
He clucked his tongue at me. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. So impatient. Very well.”
The air hung in silence again as Emiliano took another drag.
“What I want is simple. Your family’s operation, the Vadim liquor ring you front through Delirium. I would like to open up my demographic to the northeast part of your territory. Well, soon to be my territory.”
“Get fucked.” I raised my brows, smiling innocently.
“Ha!” Emiliano keeled backward, laughing into the broken-in ceiling. Now, now. You know as well as I do that laundering through alcohol is a fantastic way to mask our funds. Investors and brands come and go like that.” He snapped his fingers. I want that territory to start my own, and I’m not keen on having the competition your club poses. It's much better to just kick out the current Vadim business.”
“I’m sorry, was I not clear? Get. Fucked.” I started to turn away. If this was all the guy was here for, I was going the fuck home.
“Pietor, don’t be hasty.” Emiliano’s voice echoed. “I’ve got an outstanding lawyer on the case, dedicated, intelligent, uncorrupted. And until you and your family relent and close Delirium’s doors for good, I will use every resource at my extensive disposal to make your life hell. Lawsuits, complaints, anonymous tips. Any way I can get the cops on your property, I’ll use.”