Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
They would be okay.
A crisis management team would be hired. Then they would likely be busier than ever.
I was really the only one out of work.
I had savings, I reminded myself after I sent out my email, then walked away from my laptop, not wanting to fall into the trap of endlessly refreshing my inbox, waiting for all the hate responses to flood in. I would be okay for a while.
And there was nothing stopping me from looking for freelance work as soon as I finished sharing the recording I had of the senator. At least that way, I would know I was safe.
As much as a part of me was hopeful that Elian could find a way to fix this situation with the Bratva, there was obviously a chance that he wouldn’t be able to do that.
Then what?
I had to move?
The thought of it made my stomach ache, so I forced those thoughts away as I took a shower, then worked on my hair and makeup, telling myself I was doing it so I looked put together, and not like a crazy person, when I went to the police. But the other part of me knew it had nothing to do with how the outside world might look at me. And everything to do with how Elian would.
Even just thinking of him had my skin warming and the telltale ache of desire blooming in my core. Despite him fully satisfying my hunger just a few hours before.
I finished sending an email out to that vlogger from the press conference at the gym, Nathan, because I figured he was someone who could get the recording out quickly and have it gain traction. From there, the news networks would pick it up.
If I planned things right, it would be everywhere by the end of the day.
I just wanted to make sure that I had it in the possession of the police slightly in advance of the news picking it up.
I was just finishing moving the recording from my app to an external drive to give to the police when there was a knock at the door.
“Do you need a refill?” I called as I walked toward the door, having just given Serano a latte an hour before, feeling bad that he was spending his whole day just standing in the hallway, doing nothing.
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Serano standing there.
No, it was two women.
Elian’s sister Islah and the female mafia capo, Cinna.
“Oh, hey,” I said, brows pinched as I looked beyond them, not seeing a guard anywhere.
“I told Serano he could go grab lunch while I’m here,” Cinna said as the two of them moved inside.
“Oh, okay. I feel so bad that he’s just stuck out there all day. I keep inviting him in, but…”
“But it’s Serano,” Cinna said. “And he’s about as social as a feral cat.”
“And you’re all warm and snuggly,” Islah teased, getting a smile out of Cinna as Islah scooped Kevin off of his stand and pressed a kiss to his soft head.
“How’re you holding up?” Cinna asked. “Saw the news.”
“I’m… okay,” I told her, mostly meaning it. Sure, I had some concerns about my career and finances, but the other part of me was overwhelmingly happy to be with Elian, to hear him discuss the near and even distant future in a way that suggested he expected me to still be around. With him.
“Yeah?” Cinna asked. “Is that why you’re tapping?” she asked, glancing at the countertop where my fingers were tapping frantically.
“I’m a little nervous about what I have to do next,” I admitted.
“Make the senator pay for his crimes?” she asked.
“Put myself out there as a whistleblower, I guess. Things are bad enough, but after this, people who really like Michael, or other criminals that he might be involved with, might have reason to hate me too.”
To that, Cinna nodded. “To be fair, the Bratva don’t hate you,” she said. “It’s not personal. It’s business.”
“Pretty sure that’s not helping,” Islah said as she joined us in the kitchen, brushing Kevin’s hair off of her shirt as she did.
“I think it’s always better when shit isn’t personal. It’s not like the Russians have some reason, based on who you are as a person, to want you dead. You’re just kind of in their way.”
“She should work for a greeting card company, right?” Islah teased. “Sorry your father died, but he was kind of a jerk anyway, right?”
“I’m pretty sure that would be a bestseller,” Cinna shot back.
“I mean, you’re not wrong,” I said, smiling at both of them.
“So, how have things with you and my brother been going?”
“Islah,” Cinna scolded, giving her a wide-eyed look.
“What? Like they’re living together and not giving in to the tension between them? Come on. Not everyone is like you, fighting your feelings for Dav for like a decade.”