Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Detective Pascall glares at me as if I am a pig. Since I’ve felt nothing close to clean in the past three days, I don’t display my disdain. “You followed her into a cab to make sure she paid the dry-cleaning bill of a sick child?”
“Yes.”
I take a mental note to increase the pays of my security team when she flicks to a fresh page of her notepad before asking, “Do you recall the address she recited to the driver?”
I take a moment, pretending to think, before shaking my head. “No.”
Sanya huffs, aware I am lying.
I hit her with a snarl like I don’t appreciate being unfairly interrogated when I was of the belief that was the reason for her visit. “I followed her into the cab to ensure her offer was sincere. I exited two blocks later when she handed me enough funds to cover my dry-cleaning fee.”
“She paid you with cash?” She jots down a note when I dip my chin. “Did you see her wallet? Did she have enough funds to pay for a long or short fare?”
“I don’t recall.” A spark of brilliance hits me. “Though I do remember her saying something about motion sickness tablets being a waste of money.” I stare her dead set in the eyes. “Perhaps she was heading to the airport?”
“Perhaps,” she mimics through clenched teeth before announcing I have every right to have my defenses up. “Murderers are known to skip town after committing a crime. They rarely stay to clean up their mess.”
I swallow harshly. “Murderer?” When she nods, I laugh as if death is humorous. “I can assure you, Detective Pascall, there wasn’t a single droplet of blood on Ms. Palkova.” When suspicion hardens her features, I add, “I am a man, and she is a gorgeous woman. Of course I looked.”
“Was this… look long enough to spot stains over six years old?”
Her question deposits me into the middle of the Amazon without a life vest in sight. I can’t speak, swallow, or move. I can’t do anything but stare in bewilderment.
While smirking smugly, loving my frozen status, Detective Pascall stores away her notepad before filling her empty hand with a business card. “If you hear anything about Ms. Palkova’s whereabouts or think of anything that may come in handy with my investigation, you can reach me here.” She drags her finger under her cell phone number scribbled on the back of her card.
After a final smirk, she leaves without so much as a backward glance.
Just as fast, I race to the elevator and select the floor below the penthouse. I’m swimming in waters outside of my depth, and Mara taught me it is better to stretch for a life jacket than unnecessarily drown.
“That isn’t wise,” a voice sounds from a speaker above my head. “Doc worked the nightshift, and Maksim is paranoid as fuck about her sleep schedule. If you wake her, you’ll be a dead man.”
I raise my eyes to the blinking contraption above my head before saying, “This isn’t about me. It is for Mara.”
A chair creaking into place booms around the elevator before, “I’m gonna need more information. Mara is in favor to the Ivanovs”—the possessiveness in his tone pisses me off—“but you’ll need more than being on Maksim’s good side if you fuck with his wife’s sleeping schedule.” Humor highlights his tone more than anger during his next sentence. “Forcing him to pull out mid-nap will fuck with her sleeping schedule.”
I’m lost, and it is heard in my tone. “It’s urgent.”
When he hums like he handles fabricated murder charges on the daily, I push out, “Detective Pascall was meant to take my confession for a murder charge, not pin one on Mara.”
He cusses before the button I selected almost a minute ago finally illuminates.
41
MARA
“Our relationship has been a whirlwind, but gosh…” A quick stab of jealousy ripples the air as Veronika locks her loved-up eyes with the camera and says, “When you know, you know.”
“And you know?” I have mad respect for the reporter when she murmurs, “Already.”
Veronika’s eyes narrow into thin slits. “Whatever do you mean? We’ve been dating for almost a month.”
“A month?” The entertainment reporter doing live interviews with the attendees of Ark’s fortieth birthday checks a notepad before saying, “My calculations are closer to a week.”
“That’s just silly,” Veronika replies, her voice suddenly not so chipper. “We had a slight bump at the start of our courtship, but Ark took care of that in less than a weekend. It’s been smooth sailing ever since.” She leans in close like there aren’t millions of viewers hanging off her every word. “Between you and me, you’ll find out just how serious things are later tonight.”
When she wiggles her fingers to highlight the only one missing a ring is her engagement finger, I switch off the television and dump the remote on my scratched coffee table.