Page 42 of Hate to Love You

I flip over the rest of the scattered little seeds, and it doesn’t take me more than three seconds to realize that there are exactly seven pips on my desk.

…And seven letters in “Antonov.”

With seven little pips, the Irish have made their intentions known. “No, they want us dead, Ana,” I say softly. “They want us all dead.”

Chapter Eight

ABBY

3 days later.

There’s always risks to the justice that I serve.

After the tracker pinged Igor’s location, I discovered that he lives in the same part of town that I used to live in with my dead ex-husband. And not just in the same part of town, but in the exact building I used to live in.

Igor Ivanov had been a hard man to track down, elusive even. But a man with an ego as big as his wasn’t hard to find in the end. It took me four days, but I learned a lot about him.

He prefers to travel at night, but when he moves about the city during the day, it’s always with a small army of men. Additionally, he only routinely goes to three places within the city: his home, The Studio, and Nikotech Investments.

There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to be able to get to him at his home, especially with a wife lingering around, so it’s either his favorite club, or his place of employment.

Curiosity burns through me, as my fingers glide across the keyboard slowly typing in Nikotech Investments. But the search returns barely anything at all, just some news articles about the company’s birthday, its stock exchange IPO reports, and the company’s CEO…Roman Nikolai Antonov.

Russian.

I wonder how he is connected to Igor?

However, as I search online for him, it’s clear that like Igor, he doesn’t have social media accounts. In fact, it’s almost as if he’s intentionally done a good job of burying any reference of his name on social media. And even after a few more extensive searches, all I’m able to locate is his estimated net worth, and a few names of his older, much smaller businesses. But that’s it.

Jesus, the man is a ghost.

And then randomly, a job posting for Nikotech Investments pops up on page five.

You know it’s bad when you’re on page five of the search results. The listing gives more information on the company, and a few names of its board members, and descriptions of their backgrounds and roles at Nikotech.

It’s here that I learn that Roman Antonov, became one of the youngest millionaires in the United States when he inherited his father’s holdings at the age of twenty-three. However, seven years later, at the age of thirty, he’s now a billionaire, having built Nikotech from the ground up.

My eyes roll.

Of course, he would name the company after himself.

Pretentious prick.

But…it appears Mr. Antonov is looking for a secretary to help with his calendar, emails, and various personal office tasks.

The ad says pay would be negotiated based on previous experience, and while I don’t have any previous secretary or assistant experience, I managed my husband’s busy calendar and social life, all while taking his horrific abuse.

How hard could this be?

Shrugging, I decide just to fill out an application, because I really have nothing to lose.

And, if I actually get the job, it might provide me with more than just a steady source of income…it would provide me access to more monsters.

Something I learned in high-school with my bitch-faced bullies, is that they tend to congregate. Bullies prefer to associate with other bullies, their insecurities feeding each other’s monsters. They are like rats, colonizing and becoming an infestation.

…And I’m the exterminator.

Money and new marks? Fuck yes. Two birds with one stone.