Chapter 7

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Maxim

The dog trainer fidgeted in my car.

Especially when I revved it up.

I deliberately hit sharp turns and zipped through traffic in my Mercedes, annoyed she was here, but even more annoyed she had the dog on my million dollar leather.

Growling, I focused on the road, smirking every time my daughter’s little project gripped the seat or sucked in a breath. At one point, Sia started eating jellybeans, which was unusual.

“Have a sweet tooth, Miss Reynolds?” I questioned, completely aware when she set the bag of sweets on her brown thighs. I’d been watching her in the shower more than once this week and felt I knew her body better than herself.

I needed to keep an eye on her.

If she was in my home, I was keeping a goddamn eye out, and when she noticed I noticed her jellybeans, she tucked them further into her lap.

“I just like them,” she said. She was eating them like a fiend. Especially when we rolled up to the funeral home. Peters whatever Mr. Petrov had around here was child’s play.

At least, I hoped so.

Lettie promised there’d be no trouble for me if I worked for him, and I was starting to think that was completely true. The only trouble—the only danger— appeared to be Mr. Petrov himself. He was both arrogant and cruel.

A small smile quirked Val’s lips. She typed something on her phone, and when she lifted it, I smiled.

“I’ll let him know,” her screen said, then she nodded before mouthing, “Good luck.”

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