Page 117 of Sinful Wrath

I’m going to have some fun with this.

“You’re wasting your time.” Maxim pants, his tongue darting out to wet his cracked lips.

“Maybe. But maybe not. Because, trust me, I have no issue slitting your throat regardless of whether or not you talk, so you might as well make your death mean something.” I let go of his hair and step back.

“The only person my father trusts is himself.”

I don’t miss the sour tone in his voice.

“You want me to believe that Igor didn’t disclose any information to you?” Yeah, right.

“You’re his oldest son. You’re set to inherit his empire, so don’t fucking play me with that bullshit.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“So, I guess we are done here.” I turn my back on Maxim. “Anton, hand me your blade.”

Anton reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a six-inch knife, his face grim as he turns it handle first toward me.

“Wait!” Maxim yells. “I know about the affair.”

I pause, my fingers hovering over the handle of the blade.

“What do you know?” I glance over my shoulder.

“I-I know that there was a son.”

I glance at Anton whose face pales. I snatch the knife off him and stalk back over to Maxim as my heart rate begins to quicken.

“Was?” I press the tip of the blade into Maxim’s throat.

His face pales as he looks between Anton and me.

“Thereisa son. His name is Lev. He only recently learnt that Igor isn’t his real father.” A thin sheen of sweatbreaks out over Maxim’s top lip as he glances at the blade. “Though it shouldn’t have been a surprise to him.”

My eyes narrow. “Why?”

Maxim pulls against the restraints but winces as the rope burns his skin.

“Igor used him as his very own punching bag, and Lev never understood why. The poor bastard had to take the brunt of our father’s rage.”

“That information isn’t worth your life.” I press the knife in deep enough to cut the skin slightly. “So, I suggest you keep talking.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What do you know about Alfonzo Morano?”

“He works for my father.”

I bite back a curse as I lower the blade and turn to face Anton.

“You want to kill him now?” Anton asks but I shake my head, pocketing the knife as I think about what to do.

“That will only enrage Igor more.” I rub at my jaw. “I suggest we lock him up in one of the cells. He’s more useful to us if he’s alive and from the looks of it, I reckon he’ll be willing to spill a lot more information on his father if it means keeping his life?—”

“You’re marrying her, right?” Maxim calls out. “Lucia?”

My body tenses at the sound of Lucia’s name on his lips.