DIMA (Filthy Rich Alphas) - Page 35

Yes. I see you. We’ll talk later.

She turned away, but every few seconds she glanced back at us.

Marcelo spoke with a surprisingly calm voice, “I see that this is a sensitive matter for you, Dimitri. Handle it how you want. Just make sure she's not whispering any information about us to the mayor.”

I turned my attention to the mayor. I’d already been choking him in my head. “Parks knows more than her. He may have crawled out of the Syndicate’s pockets this year, but he will still do what he's told.”

Lei cleared his throat. “Will you be able to handle the murderer and this reporter?”

“I’m going to make special time for both.”

The singer finished. The band’s playing lowered. The darkening dance floor illuminated.

Mayor Parks pointed to the stage. Rose didn’t look. Instead, she checked over her shoulder and glanced at me.

You say no to me, but spend your free time with a shmuck.

She moved her view back to the stage. Pissed with her, I did too. A clown rushed onto the stage. He wore an elaborate black and white costume with green spots. He waved. “Hello. Hello. Hello.”

The audience yelled hello back.

“How are you crazy bitches doing?”

Many cheered. Others grumbled.

Lei looked at Marcelo. “Was Bubbles the Southie Clown really necessary for tonight?”

“Romeo loved Bubbles and asked for him specifically in the will.”

Lei shook his head.

Many in the audience cheered.

“It’s a sad night, guys. But we still have to party for Romeo. Our dear friend.” Bubbles gestured to the singer. “Let’s give a loud clap to the South’s amazing new voice, Ebony. She will be singing Romeo’s top fifty favorite Rhythm and Blues songs this evening while our cage dangers give a special performance.”

A woman yelled, “Alright now, girl! Don’t fuck it up.”

A man countered, “Ebony get it! You better sing Mariah and Mary like you mean it now!”

Several laughed. The band played a slow song.

Ebony stepped up to the microphone. This time she gazed up at us.

Marcelo cleared his throat.

Ebony returned her view to the audience and began sing the lyrics to D’Angelo’s song, How Does It Feel. Her voice performed each word in the most beautiful way.

I found myself, being lost in the melody and drowning within her seductive voice.

For a few seconds, I calmed from wanting to break the mayor’s bones and considered how I would make love to Rose. Still, the anger never went away.

Ebony grabbed the microphone and took it off the stand. Her voice rose with the notes as she strolled over to the stage.

Marcelo moved closer to the glass window as if wishing he could walk through it and fly to her.

Like an excited kid, Viktor nudged me and pointed up. “Dima.”

Five huge cages slowly lowered from the ceiling. Four of the cages were placed like the points of a square. The fifth cage was in the center.

From what I could slowly make out, there were bars on two sides—left and right. For the front and back of the cage, it was all glass.

Not caring about nude dancers, I went back to looking at Rose. She was glancing at me over her shoulder again.

I told you that I want to fuck you, Rose. That means, no other men, until I’m done with you.

Rage moved through me, but lust filled my body too. If I had her alone, I would’ve torn that dress off that sexy body in seconds. At the mere thought, my cock hummed in need.

“Wait a fucking minute.” Marcelo caught my attention. “Where are all the dancers?”

“Shit.” Viktor raised his hand and pointed. “What’s that in the center?”

I still couldn’t move my gaze from Rose. It took several women screaming to stop me. And then the lights came on. The cages lowered to our level, giving us the best view.

“Dear God!” Marcelo raised his hands in the air. “No. Please, no.”

The four corner cages were empty.

But not the center. There, Chanel’s dead body stood in a frozen pose.

My hands shook.

No! It. . .can’t be. I just. . .hugged her.

Horror spiraled in my chest. Next, came sorrow.

Stunned, Lei took out his guns and placed them by his side like someone was there to shoot.

Below us, people shrieked. Others cried. A couple of people began to fight. I spotted several Killer Crows in the mix—full of rage and vengeance and completely unsure of what else to do.

Not Chanel. Not Chanel. . .she’s alive or. . .

“What the fuck?!” Marcelo still had his hands in the air. “That’s. . .not real. . .Right?”

I had nothing to say. My eyes took Chanel in. With each record of detail, a flash of the earlier moment with her came to me—my holding her as she cried against me.

My heart broke. And it began shattering. Crumbling. Darkening. Barely beating. And I was barely breathing. And the wicked need for revenge put my soul into a chokehold.

Tags: Kenya Wright Romance
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