Cruel Conquest: A Dark Romance, page 13
Then comes the guy keeping up the rear. And if the stiffness in his posture and the way his eyes track every movement weren’t a dead giveaway, the pistol attached to the belt of his black suit pants is.
So… the boss, the jester, the accountant, and the muscle.
Ivan knows them all, and from the slant of his mouth, isn’t thrilled that they’re all streaming into his suite.
As soon as Maksim’s blue eyes land on me, I’m acutely aware that I’m wearing a hoody that barely reaches mid-thigh, and nothing underneath.
“Who’s your guest?” the Jester asks, stepping around Maksim so he can take a good hard look at me.
Ivan frowns at him, and then shifts his gaze over to where I’m standing. The frustration in his eyes makes my stomach sink all the way to street level.
“I, uh, was just—” I croak out, backing up as I point vaguely toward Ivan’s room.
“This is Hannah, and it’s past her bedtime.” Ivan stalks past Maksim and the Jester, grabbing me just above the elbow and herding me down the hall.
Normally, I’d be insulted as hell by him treating me like this, especially in front of other people. But I don’t like how the Accountant looked at me, like he was calculating my net worth in his head and coming up with some conclusion that brought a faint smile to his mouth.
I thought Ivan gave off dangerous vibes when I arrived at his door a few days ago… but these guys? I’ll bet good money—someone else’s, of course—that they work for the mob in some way, shape, or form.
And just like that, the floodgates are opened. A stream of thoughts spill into my mind, and Ivan hesitates for a moment as he’s drawing his bedroom door closed. I guess he doesn’t like the way my jaw drops or the light of realization that flickers in my eyes.
“Hannah?” But then he smooths away his frown. “Don’t come out until it’s safe.”
He shuts the door, and I stand there with my arms wrapped around myself, wondering just when in the hell this penthouse became so dangerous.
Oh, right.
The moment Maksim and his friends walked in the door.
CHAPTER 32
Ivan
Maksim Balmont raises an eyebrow when I walk back into the living area. He’s examining the bottle of wine I just opened, and from the sour twist of his mouth, finds my taste sorely lacking.
“This isn’t a good time,” I tell him, keeping my voice low so it won’t travel to the bedroom. The penthouse is massive, so I’m sure Hannah can’t hear us, but I’ve learned to be overly cautious whenever I’m around these men.
“She’s cute,” Rich says. I can never tell when he’s being sarcastic, not with that scar pulling up the side of his mouth. But I ignore him, because paying him any kind of attention is dangerous. More accurate, paying any of them less attention is suicide.
That’s their M.O.
The Balmont Boys come out in full force, because then you have to spread your attention between them. Even the way they scatter over my living space is a testament to how intuitively they operate.
Divide and conquer.
“Girlfriend?” Rich asks.
“A friend.” That’s the extent these guys will ever know about Hannah. If I could have it my way, I’d make it so they didn’t even know she existed. But that ship’s sailed, so all that’s left is damage control.
I drag out a kitchen stool and position it so my back is against the wall, and I have a clear view of the hallway leading to the bedroom. I won’t put it past any of them to slip past and go pay Hannah a visit while the others distract me. I saw the way they looked at her—like she was a little lamb that had gotten separated from the herd… and they were all starving wolves.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” I ask, directing the question at Maksim, but glancing over at Smith Hutchinson as he goes to stand by the window, then Troy, who’s guarding the only exit in this place. Well, unless someone takes a swan dive off the balcony, that is.
Rich paces, glancing every so often toward the hallway—but he’s never been one to stand still. As long as he doesn’t leave the living area, he can wear a fucking hole in the carpet for all I care.
“The same thing it’s always about,” Maksim says, opening a cabinet and taking out another two wineglasses.
“I told you last time, I’m not interested.”
“Last time, I wasn’t offering you half a million.”
My throat goes dry. It’s a lot of money. Not for me personally, but for a job. “Sounds serious.”
“Thought you weren’t interested,” Smith calls from his place by the window.
“I’m not.” My eyes are on Maksim as he pours wine into the glasses before going to my fridge and taking out a beer and a soda. “But you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
Troy grunts like I said something funny, and I spare him a glare before facing Maksim. “Who’s the client? Someone new, or a regular?”
He takes his time answering, first handing Rich a beer, then Troy the soda. Smith gives him a gracious nod when he takes him a glass of wine and then sniffs and gives an almost identical grimace as the one Maksim gave earlier before taking a hesitant sip.
“Maksim…” I growl.
“Both,” Maksim says as he comes to stand beside the island a few feet from me. When my frown deepens, he hides a smile behind his wineglass. “Yes, I know, I’m being intentionally obscure… but what would we have if we didn’t have discretion?”
“You’d still be the son of the biggest mob boss in the city,” I mutter.
Maksim drops his chin. “Touché.” He sips at the wine. “It’s a couple. You already know Georgina… and then her husband.”
“I’ve never—” I cut myself off with a grunt. “I will never—”
This time, Smith cuts me off. “She asked for you.”
I answer with a growl. “They always do. That changes nothing.”
Maksim rolls his eyes toward Rich, and they smile like they’re sharing some private joke. “And her?” He moves his eyes to the hallway. “What about her?”
My hands are in fists, my stomach just as tightly clenched. “Be very careful with your next words, Maksim.”
He raises an eyebrow, his mouth curling slowly into a smile as he stares at me for a long moment. “It’s a two-person job,” he says, shrugging. “Maybe your friend would like to earn a little something on the side. The IRS doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our little secret…”
CHAPTER 33
Hannah
The instant Ivan turns the corner, I slip out of his bedroom, close the door quietly behind me, and head straight for the closed door I’d been eyeballing earlier.
It’s unlocked.
Yes!
I slip inside, but I can’t risk closing the door behind me. I need to know when their conversation ends so that I can be back in Ivan’s bedroom before he comes looking for me. Smiling, I scan the room.
Someone’s looking out for me tonight.
I’m in a sleekly furnished study with a beautifully varnished wooden desk. There’s a small seating area to one side near a fireplace, but the main attraction is that wide, uncluttered desk facing the tall windows that look out on a city twinkling with a million lights.
I rush over to the desk, hesitating before sliding into the leather chair positioned in front of the computer. As soon as I grab the mouse, the screen comes to life.
“…your girlfriend?”
Adrenalin surges through me, and I’m not sure if it’s because the computer is unlocked, or because of what I just heard one of the guys in the living room say.
I strain to hear Ivan’s response, but it’s all a grumbled, growly mess, so I try to push that out of my mind.
I’m in.
Finally, I have unfettered access to Ivan’s life. I quickly open his email program and type in the word Rebecca into his search bar.
No hits.
I try Monroe next.
Nothing.
Shit!
Ivan’s inbox, however, is full of emails. It seems he never moves things out into separate folders or anything. The longer I scroll, the further back in time I go.
One week.
One month.
Two months.
“…time, I’m not interested.”
I force myself not to listen to Ivan. I need to focus on the task at hand. This might be the last chance I ever get to find out what the hell happened the night of my mother’s murder.
The closer I get to the date, the more nervous I become.
Three months. Four.
I scroll even faster, not bothering with anything else, even though I know there might be other crucial information for me to find.
The voices filtering in from the living area have become unintelligible, but it seems Ivan is speaking mainly to the man with the blue eyes who walked inside first.
But then someone else speaks, and his voice carries much better. “She asked for you.”
This stops me short. She? She who?
Focus, Hannah!
I stare at the computer screen and realize I’m reading an email dated a week before my mother’s death.
I look forward to meeting you next week.
Regards,
Miss Calloway
Calloway.
That was my mother’s maiden name.
My body goes ice cold with shock.
This is it! This is the proof I was looking for. I stare at the email, rereading it as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Is this enough to take to the cops, or would they classify it as circumstantial evidence? Surely it has to be enough for them to bring Ivan in for questioning.
And then what, Hannah? He has enough money to buy his way out of anything, even a murder charge.
Maybe this is just a coincidence. I mean, there are probably tons of Calloways in the state. And the email was sent a good few days before the actual meeting, with no exact date given.
I don’t know why… but I’m questioning whether Ivan is even capable of murder.
And why would my mother use her maiden name?
More important, why would she be meeting Ivan?
There’s a massive chunk of information missing, but how am I supposed to find—
“…your friend would like to earn a little something on the side?”
My focus drags away from the email to the conversation in the living area. The sound of the voice has changed, as if the person speaking is moving closer.
Closer to Ivan… or closer to the hallway?
“…be our little secret. How about we bring her out here and ask her if she’d be—”
“No!” Ivan snaps out. “She’s not interested.”
I stand in a rush. Not interested in what, Ivan Kotov? You don’t know me. You have no clue what I’d be interested in. And you don’t seem to realize just how much I want to know what you’re involved in all… because if my mother did in fact send that email, then I need to know why the hell she’d feel the need to use her maiden name.
Closing the study door behind me, I stand there for a moment, hoping to hear another snippet of conversation that will shine a light on what I just discovered.
But there’s just silence.
And, God, I can feel how charged it is even all the way here in this hallway.
“One more job? I don’t think I’m being unreasonable,” Maksim says.
“I’ve paid my debt,” comes Ivan’s husky reply.
“You wouldn’t want us as enemies,” says one of the men—not Maksim.
“Then we shall remain acquaintances,” Ivan says. “Now I’d appreciate it if you could all just—”
I don’t know what comes over me. I guess it’s the frustration of still not having a fucking clue what’s going on. You’d think for a bunch of people who obviously know each other, they wouldn’t all be speaking in code.
When I step into the living area, Ivan is the last to look at me. And when he does, I get the distinct impression it’s because he hoped that everyone else in the room was hallucinating. Because the look of abject frustration on his face when he sees me rips into my heart like claws.
“How about you let me decide what I might and might not be interested in?” I say, angling the question toward Ivan, but without taking my eyes off of Maksim. He’s the leader of this strange group of men.
“Hannah, trust me, you don’t want—” Ivan begins, but the man with the scar on his face steps forward, and he cuts off.
“How does a hundred thousand for a day’s work sound?” he asks, that scar making it seem like he’s smiling.
I bark out a laugh that cuts off much too soon. “Illegal. What is it, porn?” I meant it as a joke. Hell, I’m pretty sure his proposition is a damn joke, but suddenly everyone in the room becomes very, very serious.
Maksim walks a little closer, and Ivan tenses like he’s about to launch himself across the room at the man and make a mess of the penthouse’s immaculate carpets. He studies me for a moment, and I’m suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how much skin Ivan’s hoody puts on display.
“Well… you’d be naked… and there would be a camera…” Maksim shows me his teeth. “But porn is too crude a word to describe what we do.”
I can’t believe I can produce enough saliva in my mouth to get out words, but somehow I ask, “Which is what, exactly?” I even sound a bit courageous. At least, that’s what I think, until Ivan gives me an unreadable look.
“We call it performance art.”
CHAPTER 34
Ivan
Hannah stares silently into her wineglass, and I watch her uneasily. She hasn’t said a word since the Balmont Boys left, and I keep failing to find the courage to ask her what’s on her mind.
Because I already know.
She laughed and told Maksim he was making shit up. And then became wary when he offered her a hundred thousand dollars for ‘one performance.’ She’d been about to slap him, but thankfully I was close enough to catch her arm. If I hadn’t been holding onto her, I’d have thrown the Balmont Boys out of my house—physically.
“So this is what you used to do?” she asks quietly, turning her wineglass around and around on the table. “Porn?”
I’m loath to repeat what Maksim said, but I feel I owe her some kind of explanation. “It’s not… you wouldn’t understand.”
“So explain it to me,” she whispers.
I open my mouth, but I can’t find the words. It’s not that I’m ashamed. Not in a million years. When I was working for the Balmont Boys, I loved what I did. But then I met Cindy, and although she told me I didn’t have to quit, I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing. Plus, it took a toll on my sanity. If I hadn’t met Cindy when I had, I’m pretty sure there’d be nothing left of me.
If you make a deal with the devil, you can’t expect your soul to come out intact.
Maksim had saved my life. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to repay him… and I guess he thinks I haven’t paid off my debt yet. But even he’s got to realize that if I did one more job, I’d lose the last bit of my soul… and who’d want to live after that?
Maybe… Maybe if Hannah hadn’t come into my life, I might have accepted this last project. Fuck knows, Georgina always kept it interesting. She was a tough client to please.
“Ivan…”
I realize I was lost in my thoughts, so I clear my throat and do my best to keep my cool as I try to explain to Hannah.
“Maksim runs a place called the Devil’s Den. It’s basically an upper class brothel.”
“Oh, my God, and you worked there?”
When I lift my eyes to her, she shifts in her seat. “Sorry. Go on.”
“I didn’t work there. I worked for Maksim. He had clients with… dark urges.”
“Dark?” she whispers. “Dark, how?”
I bite down my irritation. “If you let me finish…”
She subsides, a sulky twist to her mouth, but a fascination in her eyes that makes me wonder if maybe, just maybe, I misjudged her.
What would it mean if I did?
Hannah waits with obvious impatience, but I have no clue how to explain to her. I cast my mind back to the day Maksim approached me with an offer to work for him. I’d already been a part of the mob, but I didn’t have the stomach for killing people. And they didn’t need intimidating looking bruisers who couldn’t pull the trigger.
But what Maksim did need was intimidating men with flexible morals, and subservient women who couldn’t break easily. He made it sound like roleplaying… but it was so much more than that.
He didn’t bother trying to explain it to me. He showed me. They had many videos—clients sometimes received discounts if they allowed Maksim to record their ‘adventures.’
Hannah drums her fingers on the granite countertop. I watch her for a moment, and then look up at her and smile.
I guess it’s time for a demonstration.
When I stand to my full height, she leans back and gives me a wary look. “What are you—”
My hand snakes out, fingers wrapping around her throat. “There’s darkness in all of us,” I tell her as I drag her off the kitchen stool. She grabs my wrist, nails digging deep, her eyes wide and bright with panic.
“Ivan.” Her voice is hoarse from the lack of airflow. I tighten my fingers just a little, and it all comes rushing back.
The adrenalin.
The magnetism.
The lust.
I used to love what I did, as mentally exhausting as it was. It lit a fire inside me. It’s a pity it always turned into an inferno. Maybe if that hadn’t been the case, I wouldn’t have settled down with Cindy. I’d have taken her up on her offer to keep doing what I did best.
Fulfill fantasies.
CHAPTER 35
Hannah
Why do I always have to be so impatient? I should have known it would piss off Ivan. And yet… there’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before. I don’t have time to figure out what it is, because then he lets me go.
