DIMA (Filthy Rich Alphas)

14

Cracking the Code

Dimitri

V

iktor did good with breakfast. We ate in silence, allowing me to finish the Diamond Thief’s Secret Baby. During the quiet, I wrote a quick note in my new book. Somehow I’d misplaced the other one.

I shouldn’t show up to her condo in the morning. Showing up in the evening may be better.

After that, I was pleased and finished my food.

Currently, I perused more of Rose’s books on her shelf. Already, I held two possible novels in my hand, but I still wasn’t sure.

Reading the Diamond Thief’s Secret Baby eased my insomnia last night. Instead of thinking about Chanel’s dead body in a cage, I escaped into a trashy romance full of stimulating scenes. I was transported out of the horror of life and into a safer space.

That was the beautiful power of books.

I need more.

I checked the top shelf, full of paranormal and historical romances.

Behind me, my men cleaned the dishes, swept the kitchen floor, and tidied up wherever was necessary.

“Come on.” Viktor sat at one end of the table and played on his phone. That stupid game beeped and blared.

And how is my assistant detective doing?

I glanced over my shoulder and checked Rose’s progress.

Sipping a huge mug of fufu coffee, my stubborn Rose sat at the table. She had Detective Treadway’s folders open and scattered in front of her. Every few seconds she scribbled notes onto a large pad.

Placing my two borrowed books on the shelf, I took out my mini book and jotted a sentence down.

She likes to write notes too.

I put the mini book and pen up. Then, I grabbed the two books and returned to finding number three.

“Wow.” Rose went to another folder. “This is insane.”

She’d been shocked that I was going to let her see all the information. That told me that she didn’t understand how serious I was about possibly killing her. Now that she was forced to be with me out of my kindness to my mother, she had better be useful.

I didn’t like being pushed into a decision. And the only one that could do that was my mother.

Additionally, I worked alone. That allowed me to not have to spend too much time focusing on social responses and the right and wrong behavior required in certain situations.

“Shit.” She rose from her seat, went over to her desk, and rummaged through the first drawer. “Those bible verses are so small in the message.”

“Treadway had an officer write it down. It’s later in the file.”

“I saw them, but I want to check out the actual message.” She pulled out emerald, green glasses and a magnifying glass. Fast, she was back at the table with the glasses on and the magnifier right in front of the photo of the bible verses.

I studied her with the glasses on.

Hmmm.

I liked them on her. My cock appreciated them too. She went from gorgeous to intellectually sexy. In my younger days, I loved to fuck airhead chicks. As I grew into a man, I discovered that a smart woman could do more things to my cock than any airhead could ever produce.

Rose stopped reading and turned her view to me. “What?”

“Why don’t you wear those glasses all of the time?”

“I’m not used to them and they’re really only for reading.”

“I like them.” I went back to the bookcase and checked the next shelf. “When we fuck, make sure to put them on.”

“I thought you decided you would rather kill me than have sex with me?”

“After those glasses, I’m now on the fence.” I lifted a book and read out the title, “The Sexy Librarian. You really liked this one.”

She grabbed a folder and opened it. “Are you asking me?”

“No. I’m telling you. The pages are disgustingly bent like you read this at least once a year.”

“Disgustingly bent?”

Glancing over my shoulder, I frowned. “Have you not heard of a book mark?”

She rolled her eyes.

“There’s two types of paperback readers. The ones that use bookmarks and the ones that should have their fingers cut-off.”

“Wow.” She stood again. This time she began place photos in a line.

I carried over my three new books, placed them on my side of the table, and then went to study what she was organizing.

She glanced at the books I’d chosen. “You do know that this isn’t a library?”

“Why are you organizing the bible verses?”

“I think they’re the killer’s focal point.” She pointed at the words. “When the officer wrote them down, he forgot to note that drops of blood are on particular words on each verse, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“There’s no such thing as coincidences.” I raised my brows and took in each one.

“I agree.” She cleared her throat. “So, Mr. Cupcakes has—”

One of my men snorted from the kitchen. I looked at him. He straightened his face and returned to sweeping.