Page 39 of Baby for the Bratva King

Perfect.

“I’ll take care of that one.”

Gabriel turns around to face me, fork poised mid-air. “Taking care of business yourself tonight?”

“Spilling blood is good for the soul.”

“And good when we need to get something off our mind.” Gabriel arches his brow at me.

“The people know about mine and Saskia’s working relationship.”

“Saskia?”

“The maid?” fills in Gabriel.

“She does have a good pair of tits, I’ll give you that.”

I contain my rage, curling my hand into a fist under the table. I’ll gouge his eyes out the next time he speaks out of term.

“I agree,” says Gabriel. “You don’t want to make this complicated. Better to just let them think she’s a whore.”

I grind my jaw. No, not fucking better at all.

“At least the mafia allegations are simmering down,” says one of my men.

“Yes,” says Gabriel. “For the time being. Perhaps you should arrange a date with another girl on your roster, keep things interesting.”

“I agree, it might throw the media off course and give them multiple stories to report.”

I swill the scotch around in my glass, frustrated. I have no desire to entertain another woman. Besides, I could never do that to Saskia. Not after the way she approached me earlier, overcoming those nasty trust issues.

One thing is for certain—she doesn’t like philanthropists. Everyone likes Vesper Brouwer. He’s the nation's hero, always smiling, always running campaigns. 3.4 million my ass. They ‘forgot’ to deduct the hidden fees off the amount. Vesper will have taken home around a million himself.

I refuse to keep track of the news unless I need to monitor something. I don’t follow politicians or world leaders, or any mainstream news channels at all for that matter. I build hotels, run a Bratva and drink premium aged scotch to pass the time.

I take a few bites of the venison, let the flavors settle on my tongue for a moment, and take my leave.

“Who’s this person I need to kill?”

Triks hands over a scrap piece of paper. “Name and address are on there. According to the client, you should be able to find him at the Resorts World in Jamaica."

“On a Monday night?”

“Big on the gambling and drinking,” says Triks. “He should be easy to catch. Wait for him outside of the back entrance. Apparently, he’s too pussy to use the main entrance because of the CCTV.”

“Fucking pathetic.”

“Interesting, isn’t it?” says Triks. “How you feel ashamed and still go ahead and do the thing anyway.”

“Addiction is a fascinating concept,” adds Gabriel.

I furl my lip. “Indeed.”

I loiter around the back entrance, knife sheathed under my belt, waiting for my kill. Funny how people choose to put themselves in danger, avoiding CCTV, refusing to be saved.

I’ll save the fucker from himself tonight when I shove my blade in him.

I consult the photo on my phone of my guy. Crooked features. Flat chin. He looks average, nothing unique about him.