Beautiful Beast - Page 101

“She didn’t come. I’m sorry, boss.”

Slipping the phone back into my pants, I head to the kitchen. My steps sound hollow in the huge space, echoing off the walls, the sound eerie in the darkness of the house. I don’t bother turning on the lamps as I cross the room. There’s enough moonlight illuminating my way to the fridge.

Some people say that it’s a sacrilege to drink red wine cold rather than at room temperature. I’ve always found it tastes rather bland that way. Grabbing a stemmed glass and then a bottle out of the fridge, I walk through the living space and stop at the threshold to the terrace. How many times did I have those workers paint these French doors? Four? Five? The guys certainly made plenty of noise while doing it. Just as I ordered them to. All so my vespetta could feel more at home.

Funny thing, how I spent over twenty years making heaps of money, building my empire. The entire time I was convinced that it would bring me happiness. Too late did I realize that all of it was nothing but dust in the wind. All my wealth couldn’t help me attain the one thing I want most. Vasilisa’s love. Just like none of the expensive jewelry I gifted her ever garnered a smile on her face, unlike the silly doodles I’ve sketched for her. And here I am, at the pinnacle of my success, owning so many things . . . Yet possessing nothing of value.

Warm wind blows into my face as I step out onto the terrace and take a seat on the deck chair at the far end. The tiny lights of distant fishing boats are scattered across the dark expanse of the sea, twinkling as they ride the waves. I pour myself a glass of wine and watch them.

“Getting reckless in your old age, De Santi?” a man’s voice says from the shadows to my left.

“Seems that way.” I lean back and take a sip of my wine. “Been a long time. How’s life, Belov?”

“It was quite fine, actually. Until some motherfucker decided to kidnap my niece.” He steps out of the darkness and leans his backside on the banister, crossing his arms over his chest. The glow of the moon reflects off the gun he’s holding.

“So, the pakhan ordered you to take care of that problem for him, did he?”

“I would have, even if he hadn’t,” he snaps. “What the fuck, Rafael? We’ve had dealings for years. Was it some sort of payback? And if so, for what?”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then what? Did someone hire you to do this? At what price? Shit. If you’d called Roman when you got the contract, he would have paid you double just to send her back right away.”

“I was told that not all things have a price tag. I’m now convinced that’s true.” I nod toward the gun in his hand. “Feel free to do what you came here for.”

“What, you just gonna sit there and let me kill you?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Why?”

“Because the alternative outcome of this meeting is me killing you, Belov. And, unfortunately, I can’t do that.”

My gaze glides along the route Vasilisa and I traveled when we spent the day on my yacht, feeling the Russian’s eyes on me the entire time. He probably thinks I’m bluffing, expects me to pull out my weapon at any second. If it was anyone else in his place, Petrov’s avenger would already be dead. But Vasilisa adores her uncle. And I could never kill anyone she loves.

“Are you going to spend the whole night just staring at me?” I ask.

Belov laughs. “You know, I could have sworn you were one of the sane ones.”

“Acquired madness is one of the worst kinds, I’m afraid. When you catch it, there’s no cure.” I meet his gaze and throw back what’s left of my wine. “Take good care of her.”

He lifts his gun, aiming at my chest. “I will.”

A gunshot explodes into the night.

The bullet slices through my flesh; shockwaves radiate throughout my body. Pain shreds my insides, setting every nerve ending on fire. If someone buried a superheated rod through my breastbone, twisting it in the process, I imagine this is how it would feel.

Notes of a familiar song suddenly sound somewhere near. I almost laugh when I recognize “Gangsta’s Paradise.” The music gets louder when Belov reaches inside his pocket and pulls out his phone, pressing it to his ear. Unperturbed by the interruption, he lifts the gun, aiming at my head.

I can see Belov’s lips move as he speaks with whoever is calling him, but all sound gets muted now, only low mumbling remains. It’s getting harder to draw a breath. The light of the boats are a lot more blurry. I close my eyes and let the darkness take me. But on the cusp, a fleeting thought invades my mind.

I should have stuffed one of my shirts into her backpack.

Chapter 20

“Do not touch me,” I choke out and pull my hand from my father’s hold.

He’s been hovering over me for the entire ten-hour flight. If there were parachutes on board, I would have forced one on him and kicked him out of the damn plane.