Page 30 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

“Sergio.”

“You know what?” he drawls then pauses, as though waiting for me to answer his question.

I don’t give him the satisfaction.

Plus, he’s an egotistical prick. He’ll say what he wants to say, whether or not I want to hear it.

“She’s prettier when she’s scared.”

Rage ripples through my veins, but I lock it down a heartbeat later, my mind going deadly calm.

I can’t afford to panic.

I need complete and absolute focus.

Because I’m going to kill this motherfucker.

“Where is she?” I grit out.

“Ah,” he goes on lazily, “the interesting thing about leverage is that people always assume money matters most to men like you.” A chuckle. “Good thing I know who you really are.” A beat. “And how you’re…properly motivated.”

“You touch a hair on her head,” I say quietly, “and I will tear your arms off and beat you to fucking death with them.”

He laughs softly. “There’s my boy.”

Then the call disconnects.

I stare at the dark screen for one terrible second before my phone buzzes again.

This time with another photo of River.

She’s got a fresh cut on her cheek and blood is dripping down her face.

But she’s still bound to a metal chair in a dimly lit industrial building.

Because of me.

And though there aren’t any words alongside the photo, I understand Sergio’s message perfectly—I’ll touch her whenever the fuck I want.

“Sir?”

I blink, my mind immediately reorganizing itself, tucking away the images, the threats, the terror and focusing on all the things I need to do next in cold, careful calculation.

“I have to go.”

“Is…is everything okay?” my assistant asks.

“No,” I growl. “No, it’s fucking not.”

I move toward the elevator, jab at the button, and when it doesn’t immediately come, I hit the stairwell, start pounding down the steps, one floor after another after another.

I need to find River, need to get to her, need to?—

“Focus,” I order myself as I reach the ground floor. “Because if you go after them like this, you’ll get her killed.”

I pause just inside the door, my palms on the push bar, and force myself to take a slow, careful breath.

Then again.