Daniil
The weeks pass by in a haze of sex and plans. My need for Sienna doesn’t ever lessen, no matter what we do. Just the sight of her moving around the cabin drives me mad with want.
I check the laptop, a daily habit since we hunkered down after meeting her cousins. So far, there’s been no news. I leave it on the coffee table and go to her, hugging her from behind.
“Anything?” she asks.
“No, but I’m sure it won’t be long.” I turn her to face me and kiss her softly.
“I was thinking,” she says, pulling away and grabbing two mugs of coffee, walking into the living room and placing them on the coffee table either side of my laptop. “Andrey’s money—”
“Your money,” I interject.
“The money,” she says firmly, her eyes locking onto mine with finality as I sit beside her. “I want to donate it or something.”
I think for a moment. “That’s fair,” I say.
“Have you thought about where?” I pull up the accounts Roman gave us.
There’s a little over ten million dollars in total.
A drop in the ocean to what Andrey’s businesses were worth, but also all above board in case there’s ever any questions.
There’ll be a life insurance sum to follow, if and when the authorities find his body.
My contact made sure he would wash up in the same place as all his victims washed up.
“Women’s shelters,” Sienna says, breaking my train of thoughts. “Charities for victims and survivors of sexual assault, domestic violence. Maybe even a donation to hospitals that deal with that stuff.”
I lift a hand to her face and smile. “That sounds perfect,” I say.
The laptop pings.
“It’s a message from Maksim,” I say, pulling it onto my knee and running it through the decryption software.
“Ah, it says that Andrey’s body was found at the end of last week, authorities had enough evidence to pin the women’s deaths on him after taking DNA, but they aren’t pursuing a murder case as there is ‘insufficient evidence’ around his death.
They wanted to speak to you, but Maksim smoothed things over. ”
It pings again.
“Life insurance will be another fifty mill.” I shake my head in disbelief. That man was definitely worth more dead than alive.
“I’ll send a bouquet and donation to whoever decided not to pursue his murder,” Sienna says, taking a sip of her coffee. “Does this mean we can go home?”
“It means it’s time for you to make a new home,” I clarify. Because it isn’t like she can go back to her father.
“What about your apartment?” she asks, colour rising in her cheeks.
I think for a moment. “I think I know of somewhere better.”