Page 195 of Bleed with Me

“Just a moment, ma vilaine,” I muttered sleepily. “One moment of this peace.”

-77-

Nina

The family life was surprisingly exciting. I’d never imagined how much fun I could have with a six-year-old girl and her endless questions. If I heard “Why, Mommy?” one more time, the twitch in my eye might become permanent. Still, I was having the best time of my life.

The only downside was that Dorian could rarely be there with us. Between his hospital shifts, patients at the clinic, Zyon’s demands regarding the underground medical facility, and the invisible threat hanging over me, his mind remained in constant combat mode. I tried to ease some of the weight on his shoulders, but he wouldn’t let me. Whenever he thought I wasn’t looking, he drifted somewhere far away, and every time I asked what was wrong, he smiled and brushed me off.

That left me with only one reliable way of quieting his overwhelmed mind.

Sex.

Whenever I had the chance, I took control, and he surrendered with an enthusiasm that still surprised me. The transformation was almost seamless. One moment, he was the controlling doctor determined to command every part of his life; the next, he was in our bedroom, happily placing himself in my hands.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep him tied to our bed twenty-four hours a day. Apparently, he needed to work. And so did I.

The Valentino headquarters occupied the upper floors of a glass building in Midtown, hidden behind the respectable front of a commercial property company. From the outside, it looked painfully legitimate. Polished marble covered the lobby, women in tailored dresses hurried between offices, and framed photographs of luxury apartment complexes decorated the walls.

No one passing through the revolving doors would guess that three floors above them, millions of dirty dollars moved through companies that technically sold construction materials, imported wine, and managed private security.

I spent enough time here with Grandpa to know which doors led to conference rooms and which opened into places that never appeared on the official floor plans.

Still, sitting behind his desk felt strange.

The office hadn’t changed much since his death. Dark wood covered the walls, old books filled the shelves, and the faint smell of cigars lingered in the leather furniture. His favorite fountain pen rested inside the top drawer exactly where he always kept it.

I picked it up, rolling it between my fingers.

Grandpa taught me how to read financial reports in this room. He made me memorize the names of judges, politicians, captains, and businessmen before I was old enough to understand why they mattered. While other girls learned how to bake with their grandmothers, I learned which companies cleaned our money. He prepared me for this chair. He just didn’t expect me to claim it so soon.

A knock on the door disturbed the painful memories.

“Come in.”

Ignatio, my grandpa’s assistant of twenty years, entered with two thick folders tucked beneath his arm. He still watched me with the same protective expression he’d worn since I was a teenager, but something in his posture had changed since Dad’s resignation.

“The reports from the clubs,” he said, placing the folders before me. “And the updated security schedule.”

I opened the first one and scanned the numbers.

“The Queens club is losing money,” I mumbled, frowning.

“Temporary problem.”

“No.” I tapped the page with Grandpa’s pen. “It’s been losing money for four months, but the manager increased his personal salary twice.”

Ignatio leaned over my shoulder, reading the figures.

“I’ll look into it.”

“Don’t.” I closed the folder. “Freeze his access to the accounts and bring him here tomorrow morning.”

“You think he’s stealing?” he asked, eyebrows rising.

“I think he believes no one is watching.”

A slow smile spread across Ignatio’s face.