Chapter 4 – Moretti
Chapter Four
Moretti
I’m used to seeing a very different version of Vanessa. She’s drowning in my coat, dark mascara runs down her cheeks, and her hair is a tangled mess. Any time I’ve seen her, she’s been well put together, and I don’t like seeing her so disheveled.
Not to mention, she’s ignored me since I stopped carrying the conversation.
My driver knows where we’re headed, and he meets my eyes in the rearview mirror.
What exactly is he asking?
It’s not like I can take her to my home.
Why would you even want to?
I wouldn’t.
Vanessa Chapman is more trouble than she’s worth. Not only do I despise her father, I’m fairly sure he’s so desperate to sell Vanessa off to Grigoryan because he wants to solidify their new business arrangement.
I’ve had suspicions about Grigoryan for a while, but I haven’t been able to pin down solid proof.
Five years ago, the man was struggling.
Now?
He’s rolling in cash.
I keep eyes on all the other families just to be safe, and he hasn’t changed the bulk of his business, certainly not enough to justify the steep incline in his net worth.
That leads me to believe he’s dipped his toes into the one pond that all the Boston families agreed was off-limits—human trafficking.
We might be criminals and generally shady fucks, but we don’t touch selling humans.
That accord has been in place for thirty years, and to my knowledge, no one has broken it… until now.
Over the last two years, there have been nearly five hundred additional missing persons cases. That’s an extra two hundred and fifty people disappearing per year. It’s not a small number. If it’s not one of the syndicate families, it means someone is operating in Boston right under our noses.
Even if he’s not the one behind the disappearances, Grigoryan has a fondness for women half his age, and they never live long.
If Julian Chapman gave a shit about his daughter, he wouldn’t let her within a hundred feet of Grigoryan. Only, he seems more concerned with not having to pay the O’Connors what they’re owed than he is with whether Vanessa will live to see twenty-six.
Her birthday is New Year’s Day, and that’s when the contract officially dissolves, but I don’t see her making it a year under Grigoryan’s roof.
It’s unfortunate, but it’s ultimately none of my business.
Not unless I want to start an unfounded war with two of the founding families.
If I had proof, I wouldn’t hesitate to blow their shit up, but without that, I’m just asking to bring trouble to my door.
Cutting my eyes at Vanessa, I breathe through my mouth to avoid her stormy scent. She smells like the weather right before a lightning storm, and it never fails to throw me for a loop.
She’s always full of life. This depressed version of her causes an itchy reaction under my skin that I don’t care for.
That’s not even taking into account what her electric scent means—at least, according to my mother. It still doesn’t mean I can do a goddamn thing about it.
Not if I’d like to prevent a war.
I’m a coldhearted asshole, but I don’t risk the lives of my men needlessly. That lesson, I learned from my father. Well, the one who’s still alive, if you can call what he’s doing living.
When we lost my mother, her soul match followed within a year, thus leaving me with only one living father. He stuck around Boston long enough to ensure I wouldn’t flounder after taking over for him, and then…
He left.
Ran back to Russia to live out the rest of his time free of the constant reminders of the woman he loved.
Most only see the perks of bonds and packs. I’ve lived the ugly reality of what it does to families, and I promised myself I wouldn’t go down that road. Yet here I am, lamenting over the thought of Vanessa ending up with Grigoryan.
At least with the O’Connors, I could comfort myself with the knowledge they would treat her well. It might not have been a love match, but I didn’t have to worry about them abusing her.
This entire situation is fucked.
Reaching over, I tuck a tendril of Vanessa’s hair behind her ear. Her head whips in my direction, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to be looked over by my physician?” I ask, mentally willing her to give me any reason to bring her to my home.
Anything to give us extra time for her to crack. If she begged me to save her, like I assume was her purpose for coming to my home earlier today, I wouldn’t be able to deny her.
Before tonight, I’m not sure what I would have said had she asked me to rescue her from Grigoryan.
Listening to the gunshots ring out around my warehouse while she was still too far away for me to save her was an excellent wake-up call.
The look on her face as her hazel eyes met mine…
Fuck.
I never want to see that expression again. I much prefer the smirk that tips at her lips whenever chaos is brewing.
If I have to be tied to someone for life, I’d much prefer a partner in crime to a wilting flower who needs constant protection and reassurance.
Only, all my points from earlier are still valid, meaning Vanessa is going to have to ask if she wants me to intervene. That, or one of my teams needs to find some cold, hard evidence of Grigoryan’s and Julian Chapman’s wrongdoings.
“For the second time, no thank you. I have no desire to be poked and prodded by a doctor tonight,” she says, keeping her eyes on the passing scenery. “I’m already going to hear about it for staying out this late.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I say, staring at the side of her head. “I’ll explain to your father what transpired.”
“No.” Her head shakes violently. “That won’t help anything. I’ll handle it.”
I reach out, planting my hand on her shoulder. “I won’t mention that you came to my home.”
Does she think I’m cruel enough to purposely expose her attempt to make a deal? Under most circumstances, I would be, so I suppose that’s a fair concern, but I take no joy in winning unless it’s against an equal opponent.
“How would you explain them taking me?” she asks, and it’s a fair question, but I’ve already thought that part through. Before I can speak, she goes on, saying, “It’s fine. I don’t want to let them know I was kidnapped at all.”
“The kidnapping can be explained away as you being used as leverage against the O’Connors. It might even give your family some negotiating power to lessen the penalty.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather avoid the drama of all of that,” she says, glancing away again.
“So, you’d like me to, what?” I ask. “Drop you off at the gate and let you deal with your family alone?”
“You can just drop me off down the street. I’ll walk up to the gate like I always do if I use a rideshare app.”
If she’s trying to emotionally punish me for her kidnapping… It’s working.
The SUV idles just down the street from the gate to Vanessa’s home. I’ve returned her keys and phone to her, but I believe her purse must be in her vehicle, which I just had towed to the shop I use.
That reminds me. Turning in my seat, I study the omega. “They should have your vehicle repaired and back to you within a week, but I’m not sure what you’ll tell your family in the meantime. I believe they might need the keys to facilitate the repairs.”
“I’ll figure something out,” she mutters, handing off the keys before reaching for the door handle.
I grab her other wrist and pluck her phone from her hand. “Unlock it. I want you to have my number. If anything comes up, you call me directly. I’ll handle it.” I hold it up, and she enters her passcode. Once she’s done, I add my contact.
“Thanks,” she says, taking back the device. She climbs from the vehicle without returning my coat, but it’s freezing.
She needs it more than I do.
It will also give me an excuse to seek her out at some point so she can return it.
Several days pass, and Vanessa doesn’t reach out. I also don’t hear shit from her father or brothers. Dealing with the other Boston families is one of my least favorite things, but under these circumstances, I wouldn’t say no to an update.
I’d like to have confidence in Vanessa’s ability to look out for herself, and I do—to a certain extent. I’m just not fond of knowing an association with me got her kidnapped. Her family really should have security on her at all times.
If she had been escorted the morning she came to my home, she wouldn’t have been such an easy target. Then again, it could have ended in a shootout.
Who knows how things would have ended up if it had escalated?
There’s also the very real possibility that she left her security at home so they couldn’t rat her out to her family. Visiting my home would have been a red flag to anyone checking over her daily itinerary.
Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and being stuck at a syndicate party is normally not where I would choose to be.
Several of my clubs are hosting parties to ring in the new year.
Under any other circumstances, I would be there to make the rounds, but tonight was supposed to be the announcement for Vanessa’s engagement to the O’Connors.
That won’t be happening, since Patrick, Malachy, and Cormac bonded Charlotte, but it’s an easy opportunity to check in on Vanessa.
I’ve heard chatter that her family is going full steam ahead with her union to Grigoryan, which is unfortunate, to say the least.
I do a sweep of the room, talking to Patrick and a few of the other family heads. Though I’ll never be buddy-buddy with any of them, Pat isn’t so bad. He’s a sarcastic pain in the ass, but he and his brothers are more tolerable than most of the others here tonight.
Grigoryan sticks close to Vanessa and her brothers, and I keep an eye on them. Julian Chapman isn’t known for missing a claiming ceremony, but considering the masses don’t know about the O’Connors’ plan to claim Charlotte tonight, that might be why he chose to skip it.
My interest piques when Vanessa’s father finally makes his appearance. He and Grigoryan find their way out to the courtyard, and I consider my options.
If I join them, there’s no way they’ll continue talking.
The fence surrounding the courtyard is ten- or twelve-feet tall, which is a little excessive, but it’s the only outdoor space that can be accessed without having to go out through the security sweep and back in again once you’re done.
Well, unless someone takes the route I choose—hopping the ropes to the second floor and popping out onto the balcony that overlooks the courtyard.
I make sure the door closes softly behind me, and I stay away from the edge of the railing. It’s stone, meaning they wouldn’t see me if I got low to the ground, but I don’t hide from anyone, even if I’m snooping.
Pulling my cigarette from behind my ear, I light it and take a long drag, leaning against the wall just outside the door.
Smoking is a solid cover.
I couldn’t possibly be eavesdropping on their conversation. I’m simply getting my nicotine fix.
I edge closer to the railing, doing my best to pick up what’s being said.
It doesn’t help.
A few words here or there are discernible, but they clearly don’t want to be overheard—at least at first.
“She’s twenty-five years old. I don’t know what you expect the medical exam to tell you,” Julian says.
I frown.
It’s not midnight yet, meaning Vanessa is twenty-four. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but I swear to fuck if Grigoryan is concerned with Vanessa’s virginity status, I’ll gut him myself.
He’s a sick fuck.
The man has already made his way through three wives.
If he’s that obsessed with the idea of having a woman with no experience, he needs to sit down and evaluate why that is.
If I were to guess, I’d say his obsession stems from concern that his sexual skills are lacking—I’m sure they are—and if his wife has previous partners, she’ll recognize just how bad in bed he is.
“You promised I’d have the results from her medical exam in my hands before our engagement party,” Grigoryan snaps.
“And you will,” Julian says with a huff. “I will ensure Vanessa sees my physician at some point in the next two weeks. I just can’t guarantee what those results will be.”
“You’d best hope you’ve kept a leash on her,” Grigoryan says. “She’s a multi-million dollar investment.”
I nearly scoff.
At most, he plans to keep her for three or four years before some unfortunate series of events ends with her death certificate. Then he’ll start his wife search all over again.
Taking a final drag of my cigarette, I lean over the railing, flicking it at Grigoryan’s head. My mother would have my ass for littering, but this one time it’s worth it.
Hopefully it burns off the remaining seven hairs in Grigoryan’s comb-over.
Vanessa isn’t hard to track down. She leans against the wall near the hallway that leads to the restrooms. It also accesses the employee-only areas, preparation rooms that can be used for the host to dress or undress, and dead-ends in the kitchen.
The O’Connors opted out of serving a full dinner, and truthfully, I wouldn’t want to feed these assholes either.
I stride across the room, ignoring everyone.
If anyone is paying attention, it’ll look suspicious that I’m carting Vanessa off to one of the private rooms, but it also lays the groundwork for the plan I’ve been working on.
She’s probably going to hate me before she can appreciate the fact I’m putting my neck on the line for her… Ultimately, I can live with her ire, and she can too. If she ends up Grigoryan’s wife number four, she’ll be dead before she has the chance to truly live.