Page 27 of Unholy Tsar

MAKSIM

My left hand slips on the smooth, cool glass door of my shower, and I groan my little mouse’s name while shooting my cum all over the glass. Warm water cascades down my back, providing a soothing comfort as I open my eyes with a contented sigh.

But then I take in the mess I made and curse under my breath. I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to this, jacking myself off like a randy teen. And it’s all because of her. My cock twitches again as her face flashes in my mind. With a shake of my head, I push her out of my thoughts and focus on cleaning up my mess on the glass door. Despite just cumming, I’m already getting hard again.

Shit, maybe I just need to fuck her out of my system, but I already swore her off. The first time with her could be excused, since I had no idea who she was and how she was related to my niece. Hell, even that time in the study last week could be excused. I was sexually frustrated, and she was there, provoking me. It could happen to anyone. But a third time? That would be unforgivable.

I turn off the water and step out of the shower, roughly drying my body with a towel as I make my way to the bedroom. The bedside table clock reads 10:23 PM. I already know I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, so I get dressed and head to my home office.

For the next half hour, I try to check on things within my company, replying to emails and making calls. But that damn mouse keeps worming her way back into my thoughts. With a frustrated sigh, I finally give up and pick up my phone, dialing Nolan Kilpatrick’s number.

It’s almost 11 PM, which means it’s only 8 PM on the West Coast. He answers on the second ring. “Maksim. Is everything okay with Bree?”

Of course, his first concern would be his daughter. “Yes, of course,” I quickly reassure him. “As far as I know, she’s probably sleeping in her apartment right now.”

He lets out an audible breath of relief. “Good. Then, to what do I owe this call?”

I hesitate briefly, then get right out with it. “I want to ask you what you know about the girl staying with Bree.”

“Cecilia? She’s Bree’s friend from college. The girl can be a little jumpy, but from what I’ve seen, she’s a good person and good for Bree. Why? Do you suspect something?”

Other than the fact that she isn’t Bree’s friend from college? I sigh instead. “Bree brought her to one of our classes and has been pleading with me to let her join the rest of the lessons, so I just wanted to hear what you think of her.” Not a lie. But not the entire truth either.

“Ahh. Bree did mention it to me before they left home. I told her it was entirely up to you. I don’t know much about the girl, but I think she’ll benefit from the lessons as well, especially if she’s going to remain by Bree’s side.”

“Yes, I’ve come to the same decision.” I thank him for his time and end the call. As suspected, Nolan clearly trusts his daughter too much. And who can blame him? If I hadn’t seen that video recording of the two girls talking myself, I’d have a hard time believing that Bree would lie to protect Cecilia.

I slump deeper into my chair, feet drumming an impatient rhythm on the floor. With a grunt, I snatch the documents on my desk needing my signature. I stare at them blankly for a moment, then toss them down again and dial my investigator, Keir’s, number. What's taking him so long to get back to me? At least we have the correct name now.

“Mr. Smolov. I was about to call you myself.”

“Did you find anything?” I ask without wasting time.

“I’ve just barely been able to scratch the surface. Someone’s paying the big bucks to make Cecilia Bianchi appear as if she doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?”

“Neither myself nor my contacts could find anything on her. I had to get a seasoned hacker to jump through several hoops just to find the little we have, and even that is nothing.”

She mentioned someone in her past chasing her. Could he have done that? “Send what you found to me.”

I end the call, and almost immediately, his text comes through.

KEIR:

Cecilia Rose Bianchi. 23. Abandoned in front of an orphanage when she was three years old. Parentage unknown.

After that, another text comes in, going into a little more detail. She graduated from high school as the valedictorian and went to a community college where she bagged a communications degree summa cum laude.

ME:

That’s it?

KEIR:

For now, sir, yes. But we have more than enough to get us more leads. I’ll visit her high school, her college and the orphanage she grew up in. I’ll be sure to have more information for you next time.

I frown at the text. This guy is the best, so for him to come up empty-handed means the person Cecilia’s dealing with has some serious power. If I ask Rian or his wife, Roz, to look into Ceilia for me, they’ll probably be able to find all the information I need faster than Keir. But do I want to put Cecilia under their radar? The answer is no—not yet, at least.