Wife (Betrothed 1)

He pulled on his slacks then came toward me, so sexy that I wanted to jump into bed all over again. He looked me over, like a part of him still wanted more. The backs of his fingers reached my cheek and gently tucked my hair behind my ear.

When I’d walked into this room, I just wanted one night. I wanted to get his toxicity out of my system so I could move on with my life. But now that I’d had him, I was addicted. If sex was always like that, then why would I go anywhere else? “Give me your number.”

That charming smile moved onto his lips, the affection reaching his eyes. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at me. “Want to see me again?”

“I want to fuck you again.”

His smile faded, and his eyes dropped their playfulness. He grabbed the phone out of my hand and typed in his number before he handed it back. “At your service.”

“Good. Do you book your room under an alias?”

“I don’t need to.”

“My stepfather might wonder…”

“He won’t wonder anything.”

I didn’t argue. “See you soon.” I was tempted to kiss him goodbye, but to keep this casual, I didn’t. I turned around to walk out.

“Sofia.”

I turned around before I reached the door.

“This is all you want, right?” He stood with perfect posture, his shoulders back and his muscular arms tight. He was tanned everywhere, like he lay in the sun naked on a regular basis.

He probably wanted something casual, because he picked up women in bars and did whatever the fuck he wanted. Women probably wanted more from him, fell in love with him when they promised they wouldn’t.

I wasn’t one of those girls. “Nothing else.”

5

Hades

The conference room was filled with my associates. All dressed in suits to blend in with the rest of the clientele of the hotel, they looked like royalty instead of the scumbags they really were.

Conversations filled the air, talking about money or pussy. Usually both. When I walked in, they all took notice of my presence, and as a sign of respect, they shut the fuck up. All the men relaxed in their chairs and turned to me.

I buttoned the front of my suit jacket as I stood at the head of the table. I surveyed all of them, holding back my rage because someone in that room was a traitor, a fucking rat that stepped out of line.

They would pay by the end of the night.

I snapped my fingers and turned to the doorway.

Maximum and Diesel pushed a cart into the room and closed the doors behind them as they left. Then they stood on guard, their guns concealed under their jackets just in case an employee happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I opened the container and pulled out a plastic bag. White crystals were inside, looking like small pieces of glass from a broken pitcher. I tossed it on the table, making all the men crane their necks to take a peek. “How many kilos do you think that is?”

No one was stupid enough to answer.

My hands slid into my pockets, and I walked around the table, passing behind the men like a really fucked-up game of duck, duck, goose. “It’s five kilos. And at eight thousand euros per kilo…you can do the math. My chemists work in the best labs money can buy. Products aren’t spilled. The yield is always the same. So, if someone skims cash off the top, I’ll know about it.” I kept moving, not looking any of them in the eye. If I made eye contact with the man who crossed me, I’d probably rip out his throat then and there. “Gentlemen, I’ve got eyes everywhere. My birds fly all the way to Russia, to Africa, to anywhere on this fucking planet. So if my shit is sold, I know about it. And I know exactly how much it’s selling for. Do you know how much that is?”

The men glanced at each other, quickly figuring out that someone did something wrong.

“Eight thousand euros a kilo.” I came full circle back to the front of the table. “But someone here is selling it at a higher price. And you know what they say…more money, more problems. That’s only true if you aren’t me. That money isn’t coming back to me. I’m getting exactly the same amount as always. So…where did that money go?” I stopped when my eyes settled on Holton, the distributor working in Russia.

Our eyes locked for just seconds before the panic set in. “I don’t know what you’ve heard—”

“Shut up.”

He rose to his feet. “Hades, my guys are selling it at the right price. If they aren’t, I can’t control what they do.”

“Really? Because when I tortured them, they said you raised the price.”