AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You plan on blackmailing Anya Ivanov?” Dawson shakes his head in disbelief.
“Blackmail is a strong word. I prefer the term persuading. Charming even.”
Dawson scoffs before he takes a sip himself. “You’re as good as dead, man.”
I enjoy the challenge. I didn’t know what to do with the sister at first. But now I know exactly how I want to handle her. I wonder how she’ll take to being cornered, most likely for the first time in her life.
With the added benefit of her brother’s whereabouts still unknown, she must be going stir-crazy. And I can’t wait to add fuel to that fire. How disastrous can the wrath of Anya Ivanov be?
CHAPTER 9
Anya
“Alek, I can’t keep doing this. Fucking answer me! Why are you not answering me? Do you even care if I live or die?” I scream into the phone, furious. It’s been too long now since I’ve heard his voice, provoked him, or asked for his opinion on something. Yet I can’t help but continue calling, no matter how mad I am. I’m just waiting for him to answer to finally hear me out and tell me what the fuck he’s doing.
“Vance pulled a tracking device from the car yesterday, and a week before that, River paid me a lot of money for something he thought he could have.” I laugh into the phone, almost deranged at this point, considering how bizarre the circumstances.
River has messaged me every day, all of which I’ve ignored. I can’t deny the tension that builds in my core at his erotic promises.
I sigh, feeling defeated and distracted. “I wish you were here. I wish you could tell me why I hate him so much yet find him insanely attractive. And you know me, Alek. You know how much I hate most men, that apart from you, they are only good for one thing, and that’s making me come. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Can you please just call me back and come home? You’ve left me with a serious workload.” I hang up, and think to myself… and I miss you.
I thread my fingers through my long red hair, which is rarely down, as I sit at my desk with what seems to be endless paperwork. I hate sitting at a desk. I look around my library/office, and although I once enjoyed the beauty of it, now I just hate it. I’m used to Alek sitting behind the table and me sitting on the long sofa as we discuss things while sifting through our business. Well, it’s mostly me talking, but I feel his absence so heavily. And I’m seriously pissed about the pile of work he’s left me.
How much longer am I supposed to deal with him not answering?
I sometimes think it would be easier if I knew he was dead.
Alek and I haven’t ever done well being apart. It’s one of the reasons when we were in foster care we were always placed together. I had separation anxiety. I would scream and cry the house down. But when he was near, I would be calmer.
He does that for me. Calms me without even having to do anything.
My therapist told me if I keep relying on him, I’ll never find happiness or seek it somewhere else.
I quit therapy that day. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.
My life now is a mixture of money and violence, though Alek always handled the violent part more so than me. I’m good with money—doubling it, making it more than where it started from.
I’m a goddess at it, not to be mistaken for a god.
Women are better; it’s just facts.
I love women, I do, even though they aren’t my biggest cheerleaders. Women help to generously pad my bank accounts. And violence? Well, guns and drugs are the icing on the cake.
“Miss, your tea, as requested,” Clay says, bringing in a silver tray with a porcelain china teacup and pot. I notice the housemaid peeking through the double wooden doors. The kitchen staff never approach me directly, handing my food and beverages to my men. When I was a teenager, I thrived on how staff cowered in my presence. As an adult, it’s tiring and amounts to too many spilled cups of tea.
I adjust my red silk robe and don’t miss it as Clay’s gaze drops to my fluffy pink slippers.
“You’ve been working on this for hours, miss. Perhaps you should get some sleep,” he says gently as he places the tray beside me.
“And expect my empire to run itself? What a happy la-la land that sounds like, Clay,” I snark. He doesn’t bite back. He never does. Neither does Vance. I sigh and slump back into my purple velvet chair, and rub my eyes.
My men know how to please me, and at times, they make suggestions that would mirror someone who cares. But I know better than to believe they actually do. And with Alek’s disappearance, I’m now managing the workload of two. We both remained busy, so keeping up with everything is becoming tiresome. Not that I’d ever let anyone see the cracks in my facade.
The worst part of it all is I haven’t had time to shop. Like, fuck, what’s a girl have to do for a little bit of time to spend her fortune on all the pretty things the world has to provide?
Clay pours me an aromatic fruit tea. “Perhaps you might be able to ask The Chief for some help.”
I scoff and kick my legs up, placing my crossed, slippered feet onto the mass of paperwork. “And have the old bitch meddle in my affairs and remind me how useless I am? No fucking thank you.”
