Black Lace Fantasies
Dante
My guess was Malakov.
That sleazy Russian had been using Evelyn’s gallery to launder Bratva money.
While I was okay with us doing it, I was definitely not okay with anyone else doing it. Especially not that bastard.
Fuck. Why did I even care?
Because Malakov is your enemy, the voice in my head reasoned. Because he took out your men, stole your shipment, and wants to muscle in on Marcelli business.
So what? The Agora wasn’t our property. If others wanted to buy their art for inflated prices, that was up to them.
Still, it grated on me.
While she was in her room, I took another look at the transaction list, then called Vincent. He agreed the overpayment was suspicious, but he didn’t know who the buyer or the intermediary was. Evelyn and Chloe dealt with them, he just processed the figures and took care of our side of the business.
While I had him on the phone, I asked him about the sum paid into Evelyn’s personal account. He confirmed it did indeed match the reserve on the painting.
Shit. No obvious pay-off meant I couldn’t prove she’d sold us out.
Although, there was still the burner phone matter. A four-minute phone call to a Bratva number, according to Nico’s last message. I wasn’t ready to believe Evelyn was innocent just yet.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be of use to me.
It was clear she knew the industry well, and that meant she could help me figure out who the other money launderer was.
If it was Malakov, like I suspected, maybe he had a hidden agenda that we needed to know about. If it wasn’t, then I wanted to find out who the hell else was edging in on our turf.
“Did Orlov broker the deal?” I asked Evelyn, reappearing suddenly in her doorway.
She was reclining against the pillows, her hair framing her face, but she bolted upright when she spotted me. Her eyes narrowed with hostility.
“I don’t know who it was.”
“Can you find out?”
She tilted her head. “Why do you care who else uses my gallery?”
I stepped into the room but stopped a foot from the bed. “Because, my tragic Ophelia, I want to know who is trespassing on my territory.”
“Your territory?” she spluttered, an indignant flush creeping into those pearly white cheeks. “Don’t you mean my business?”
I scowled at her. “I don’t like to share.”
She caught her breath. Something in the air shifted. I saw her gaze drop to my mouth and linger there.
Interesting. It seemed Ophelia liked my possessive side.
“The Agora is not some toy that you get to fight over,” she declared, but there was no edge to her words. No venom. “I built that business up from nothing.”
“With our help,” I reminded her.
She didn’t reply, but her gaze remained on my face.
“You’re going to help me find out who the other money launderers are,” I announced.
She squared her shoulders. “You know, this would be so much easier if you just let me go home. I could check my laptop and—”
“No,” I said, cutting her off abruptly.
She tossed her hair in annoyance. “Why not? You know I didn’t do this.”
“I know no such thing,” I told her calmly, watching her small hands ball into fists. “Besides, you’re still a threat to us.”
“Why am I a threat?” She thrust her breasts out angrily. An unconscious gesture, of course, but it made me want to do things to her. Bad things.
I set my jaw, hoping to mask my desire. “You could go to the cops and tell them everything. You could inform Malakov that we suspect he ordered the hit. I don’t know where your alliances lie yet.”
“My alliances lie with my business and my gallery,” she retorted, cheeks flushing. I liked it when she got angry. It lit something within me, something that had been dark for a very long time.
“Don’t you think I know that if I went to the police, the first person they’d arrest is me?
You’ve implicated me whether you like it or not.
Not that you care.” She tossed her hair angrily over her shoulder.
“Plus, if Malakov is using my gallery to launder his money, there’s no way I’m going to talk to him. ”
I was glad to hear it. “Then we understand each other.”
She jumped off the bed. “So I can come with you?”
I put a hand out to stop her. My fingers splayed over her chest and I felt her heart pounding.
“I said no.”
“Ugh. You’re insufferable. Give me one good reason why not!” The heat of her body was messing with my head. I dropped my hand like she’d scalded me.
“The rest of the family thinks you’re dead.”
“What?” She stared at me like I was crazy. “Why the hell would they think that?”
I was already regretting mentioning it.
“Because everybody believes you sold us out. To them, you’re a rat. Vermin. Lower than low.”
“So you told them you’d killed me?” Those enormous green eyes stared up at me and I fought the urge to drown in them.
“I was buying you some time,” I corrected coldly. My visceral reaction to her was a constant source of irritation. “But now you can help us.”
“In exchange for my life?”
She was bargaining with me. It was cute that she actually thought that would make any difference to the outcome. If she was a snitch, she was going down. One way or another. I didn’t much care which. “I can’t promise that.”
Her brow furrowed as she considered this. Then, she pushed me aside and marched to the door. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Stunned, I allowed her to pass. I’d been expecting more of an argument. Not this sudden acquiescence.
She turned back, all righteous indignation in a fluffy pink sweater, and put her hands on her hips. I caught a glimpse of creamy skin at her waist as her top rode up.
“Okay, I’ll help you.” She took off down the hall.
Bemused, I followed. “What are you doing?”
“Taking another look at the figures.” She sat down and pulled the still unlocked metallic case onto her lap. “There might be more clues or other suspicious transactions. Now that I know what I’m looking for, they shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
That wasn’t the worst idea. If anyone could spot the inconsistencies, it would be her.
But did I trust her?
I ground my teeth together as I weighed the odds. If I wanted her help to get to the bottom of this, I had no choice. This was how she could be of use to us. I may as well take advantage.
“Where’s your laptop?” I asked, as she started thumbing through the files.
“In my apartment, along with my phone.” She glanced up from what she was doing to shoot me a pointed look.
I snorted. The one I’d kicked under her bed. That was staying there. I wasn’t having anyone tracking her whereabouts.
Nico had told me she didn’t have a boyfriend.
Chloe, her assistant, was the person she was tightest with, according to her phone records and what Vincent had told us.
Apparently, they messaged each other a “fuckload,” to quote my brother, but the assistant had been thoroughly vetted and was in the clear. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances.
“I’ll get it. Then you’ll be able to trace the intermediary? And through them, the buyer, yes?”
She pouted, drawing my gaze to those full, luscious lips. I hated the way I wanted to crush them with mine. “You’re going to my apartment?”
“If the laptop will help us get to the bottom of this, yeah.” I could have Rocco or one of my men pick it up, but I needed a change of scene. The cabin was making me feel hemmed in, trapped. I wanted some space, away from her.
Besides, a systematic search of her place might be enlightening. She could have evidence of her “friendship” with Orlov, or her agreement with Malakov. There might even be unread messages on her phone. Even though I had to admit her involvement in the ambush was looking less and less likely.
A guilty party wouldn’t be behaving this way. Evelyn was bargaining for her life. She’d agreed to help us, thinking it would clear her name. Save her gallery.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t playing me, I had to remind myself. I’d been caught out before by people I trusted, and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.
“It’s all on there,” she confirmed with a huff.
Okay, then. I turned to leave, feeling in my pocket for my keys.
“Dante?”
I turned, frowning. “Yeah?”
“If you’re not going to let me come with you, can you at least pick up some of my things?”
I glared at her. I wasn’t a fucking courier.
“Since you’re keeping me locked up here, the least you could do is bring back some personal items for me,” she challenged.
I guess she had a point. I hadn’t let her bring much that first night, but then I hadn’t planned on her still being here.
My guys were outside, and she wasn’t going anywhere.
I gave a tight nod. “What do you need?”
“Toiletries and…” She hesitated. “Underwear.”
I inhaled through my nose. The last thing I needed was to go rifling through her fucking panty drawer.
Still, she was looking at me, waiting for a response, a faint embarrassed blush staining her cheeks.
I nodded again.
“Thank you. Oh, and if you can ask one of the guards to pick up something from the store, that would be good too.”
I rolled my eyes. Jesus.
“Anything else?” I asked sarcastically.
I’m not living on cans for the foreseeable future. I need something fresh, preferably green.”
“I’ll dispatch Kyle to the nearest Whole Foods,” I said sardonically.
“You know them, don’t you?” she asked, as I reached for the door. “Those guards outside.”
“Yeah. I hired them.”
“I mean, you know them well.”
I paused, my palm on the handle. “What makes you say that?”
“The way you act around them. I can tell you’re close. Was it the military?”
I turned around, my frown deepening. “Who told you about that?”
“Nobody. Just a guess. But it wasn’t hard to figure out. You’ve got a military tattoo on your arm and they’re hired soldiers. They’re well trained, not just random thugs or rent-a-cops.”
I grunted, impressed by her deductions, but I didn’t want to talk about it. That subject was off limits. To everyone.
I didn’t even think about it anymore.
Instead of answering, I pulled open the door. “Be good. I’ll be back later.”