Page 37 of Forced Mafia Bride
“And who’s he?”
Anatoly frowned. He dropped his hand and plucked a cigarette from…. I wasn’t sure where the stick came from. One minute, he was seated with a bloodied cloth, and the next, dancing yellow-orange flames from his Zippo lighter hovered under the butt of the cigar between his lips.
“That’s Greg Fisher.”
My eyebrows relaxed and then furrowed. I glanced at the man’s head slowly falling forward and the timely dripping of blood on the carpet. Any other day, I might have threatened to put a fist on his jaw for messing up my office, but I was distracted by thoughts of a red-haired princess on the run.
“Greg Fisher. The broker?”
“Mm-hm.” His head bobbed, and white smoky rings floated from his lips, forming a thick fog covering his face. He dispersed it with a wave of his hand and exhaled more rings.
“What’s the broker doing here?”
The corners of his lips crooked downwards, and he couldn’t have looked more unimpressed. The stick went into his mouth, and he waited for a heartbeat, inhaling, before responding.
“You don’t remember? He’s owing you money. Just last night, you practically raved about it and asked me to find him and deal with him.” Smaller, smoky clouds escaped his nostrils in a long trail. “What was not decided was whether or not to have your brother involved because we heard he’s been looking for the son of a bitch too.”
I didn’t forget. I almost never missed the slightest detail. But right now, the matter at hand didn’t seem dire enough to earn my attention. There were more pressing matters to attend to.
I gave him a once-over before leaning back on my chair. “Transfer it. Let him handle it, then. I have other things to attend to.”
He barely gave me a chance to turn away before pressing. He leaned in, eyes hard, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “Other things like the girl, yes? The men have noticed. You’ve been distracted a lot lately.”
“Their fucking business or mine?”
“Yours.” He leaned back, a smile in his eyes. He shrugged. “Just saying. It’s been two months, and not even a speck of dust has shown up for a trail. If you ask me, she’s probably lying in a ditch somewhere.”
Red flashed through my vision, and I forced my fingernails into the armrest. Again, that idea was not impossible, but just the thought of it had my lungs snatched in a death grip and the blood flowing to my brain.
I glared at him, hard enough to leave a hole in the middle of his head. He must have noticed my intent to murder and backed off with his raised hands.
“Just saying.”
“Then, don’t fucking say. Rosalyn is not dead. If she was, we both know there’d be more than a speck of dust for a trail.”
This insane rush, like adrenaline but something even fiercer, burned through my veins and struck every bone in my body. The urge to break something was more palpable than the fucking oxygen in the room. It was her.Shewas driving me almost fucking mad with this push to protect her.
My phone vibrated on the gleaming hardwood, breaking into my thoughts. I snatched it up before I allowed my instincts to swipe it off the desk.
The caller identity had Aiden’s name flashing boldly on the screen, and a sinking gut feeling told me I wasn’t going to like what he had to fucking say.
I put the phone on speaker and knotted my fingers over my groin to avoid causing the device any damage, and the incredulity in his voice came through the speakers in the harshest whisper I’d ever heard.
“She’smissing?”
His tone was the fucking expression of the feeling coursing through my being, the subtle but evident anger, the disappointment. But most of all, the fuckingcare.
This spiky, hot-blooded version of Aiden was the one I didn’t get to see very often. His guardian angel wings only came out where Rosalyn was involved. Involuntarily, I suppressed a bitter chuckle.
Like a fucking sister, my foot.
But there were bigger fish to fry. Something a lot bigger and more vicious than the glaring truth of Aiden’s feelings. His abrupt call meant….
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple.
Shit.
“Ronan knows, doesn’t he?”