XXXVI
Atlas Lucio
I ’ve been pacing the office since I found it in the villa. My mind is frantic, trying to figure out Alexei’s next move. Although Dmitri is the one officially in charge, Alexei seems very much nestled in the middle of the Russian Mafia. He’s embedded himself like flesh-eating bacteria, determined to destroy anything and everything in his way.
My phone buzzes on the desk, and I pause my thoughts, my eyes narrowing at the anonymous number. Sitting down, I accept the call and sit back in the chair, feeling it creak under my weight.
“Time to talk,” Alexei’s voice rings through the speakerphone. I scoff, rolling my eyes.
“Hello, Alexei,” I greet him, “Stolen any of my men, recently?”
“I want my daughter,” he ignores my baiting and gets straight to the point. There’s a strain in his voice, like a man shackled by a chain that’s about to snap.
“No,” I respond calmly.
There’s no way I’m letting her go back to him.
“I will get her, Atlas. She’s mine!”
“Anything else you want, stronzo?” I ask with a sigh, sick of the conversation. I pinch the bridge of my nose in exasperation.
“How’s Costa Rica?” he asks, his Machiavellian tone seeping through. I smirk, knowing he would have tracked our plane.
Too bad he didn’t realise we used Andros’ charter jet .
“Goodbye, Alexei,” I chuckle before ending the call. My nerves are set alight and adrenaline bursts through me as soon as I’ve hung up on him.
Shit.
Unlocking my laptop, I pull up the map of locations owned by the Russians that we’ve already confirmed. So far, we have ten, but I know the number will be steadily increasing in the shadows. I pick up my phone again and text one of the men around the estate, telling them to get me a new phone.
Before I can put it down again, a text comes through from an anonymous number with an image attached. It flashes on my screen and I analyse the cold cell.
It’s barely a room, with iron bars removing any chance of dignity and privacy for the person who would be kept in there. A small bucket hides in the corner, along with a stained pillow, which rests on the concrete floor.
Unknown: Already have her new room ready.
Fury blasts through me as I jump from my chair. My hands clench into fists and I storm out of the office, certain I’ve nearly knocked the door off its hinges. Heading out to the back patio, I’m momentarily caught by the scene in front of me.
Hazel is in the pool, with her bikini top floating away as Dawson feels her up. Her head is thrown back, her eyes closed in pleasure.
Fuck.
Shaking myself away from the carnal thoughts going through my mind, I call the guys. They instantly come over to me, sensing the urgency in my voice. We’ve lived and worked together enough for them to be able to tell when something has happened.
They all follow me into the office, with Dawson dripping water all over the floor as he tries to dry himself with a towel. Once everyone is sitting down and the door is shut, I lay it on them. I show them the picture Alexei sent and explain the conversation with him.
“She’s never fucking going back to him,” Dawson growls and I nod in agreement.
“How did he get through to your phone?” Andros asks in confusion. His eyebrows are furrowed as he tries to figure out how Alexei got through the complex firewall he placed on my technology.
“Do you think he actually believes we’re in Costa Rica?” Theo asks.
“No fucking clue, but her being here is the best protection we can give her. We have more soldiers in Italy and more protection,” I reply, shrugging my suit jacket off.
“Do you trust her then? If you’re willing to protect her?” Dawson asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
Do I trust her?
Can I trust her?
“That’s not important. What’s important is keeping her safe,” I deflect. I run a hand through my hair and stare at the black screen, my lying reflection glaring back at me. He knows the truth and is not letting me forget, no matter how hard I try.
I want to trust her.
I just don’t know how.
When Hazel came into our lives, I was sure she would be a passing ship. I never expected the others to get so attached to having the tiny firecracker around them.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I look to the others to see them waiting for instructions.
“Andros, get working on surveillance for Dmitri and Alexei. Dawson, get on the phone to the Irish mob and reinforce our treaty with them for support. Theo, brief the lower Capos.” I dismiss them after giving my orders and they leave without a fuss.
After a few minutes of trying to focus on other matters of business, I give up and decide to stretch my legs. My subconscious instantly guides me outside until the hot, Italian sun is warming my golden sun.
It feels like home.
As I walk down to the pool, my eyes fall on Hazel. She’s submerged underneath the glimmering, aquamarine water. I watch as she glides through it from one end to the other, never pausing for a breath. My heart pounds as I wait for her to take a breath but she turns, never once coming to the surface before she starts down to the other side.
When she doesn’t resurface after her third lap, I take action.
In a flash, I dive into the pool and swim up to her. She startles at my presence as I grab onto her waist and force her above water.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” My voice booms, my anger ignited by her recklessness.
“Swimming,” she responds with a shrug. Her eyebrows are pulled together in confusion, only furthering my anger.
“Could have fooled me,” I scoff, glaring at her, “Looked like you were trying to drown yourself.”
She pushes her wet hair from her forehead with her hand, the movement of her arm drawing attention to her dripping breasts. I have to consciously avert my eyes, meeting her now-irritated expression.
“I can hold my breath for five minutes, Asshole,” she counters, fire swirling in her hazel irises. I don’t miss the way she doesn’t move away from my hands on her waist. I don’t plan on removing them anytime soon, either.
“Why the fuck can you hold your breath for that long?”
“When you have an abusive father like mine, you learn certain tricks.”
My breathing is laboured at this point and I take a step towards her. My wet shirt clinging to my body is the last thought on my mind, my main focus being having her closer. It’s instinctive to want her to be close, especially when I fear for her safety.
“Don’t fucking do that again,” I command, holding her chin with a firm grip as I force her to look in my determined eyes. Her resolve softens for a moment before her gaze hardens again.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Atlas,” my name sounding irresistible on her tongue, but the coldness in her tone infuriates me.
Without another word, I release my grip on her and turn around, climbing out of the pool. I feel her eyes following me as I walk back inside, the residue of pool water dripping onto the marble tiles as I storm through the kitchen.
“What happened?” I hear Andros ask from his place on the couch in the living room. I ignore him and march upstairs, muttering under my breath about the stubborn woman who is putting everyone, including herself, in danger.