Chapter 6- Suit Yourself

Chapter 6

RUSSEL

༒༺❦༻༒

I made my way up towards my office, taking three steps at a time.

As soon as I was inside, I let out a long sigh before discarding my bloodied shirt, then I dumped the jacket on the floor too, leaving me in just my trousers.

I walked over to my task board and picked up a marker. After staring at the names there for a second, I moved closer and added two more names to the list of my known enemies.

"The Iversons."

When Luca brings the file on the Iverson family, I'll also add it to the stack of files holding the information on my enemies, and I'll not rest until every one of them is wiped from the face of this earth. I pulled down the wallpaper to cover the board and moved on to my next order of business.

Twisted, evil Russel, I thought with a smirk. It was the kind of thought Selina would have hated, the kind that would have earned me a lecture about the man I used to be before all of this. But she wasn't here to lecture me anymore, and the man I used to be had died alongside her, buried in whatever ground held what was left of him.

When I left the office, I went straight to my room. A glance at my wristwatch told me it was still two in the afternoon. Two in the afternoon, and I had already killed a man.

The thought of her did not leave my mind as I strode towards my bedroom. I took out my cell phone and checked. There were tons of missed calls, but none of them came from Allesia Guerrero.

How long before she makes up her fucking mind?

True to Luca's words, a larger screen had been set up in my room, all showing different sections of Allesia's house. From her bedroom to their living room to their porch and the garden, everything except the restrooms.

I walked over to the mini bar in my room and brought back a bottle of scotch. Then I sat in front of the monitor and gulped the drink straight from the bottle before glancing around the screen for any signs of Allesia. She was not there, and that made me a bit agitated.

I thought she was taking the day off after last night?

As quickly as I could, I replayed the videos until I saw the exact moment she left the house. But that didn't offer me any satisfaction, so I rewound to the minute she came out of the restroom when I was not looking.

She had dropped the gift box into a drawer and shut it perfectly. Then she lay on the bed and took out her phone, along with a small card she'd withdrawn from her handbag.

I watched as she dialed the number on the card and saw the way she quickly sat up and cleared her throat before the other person picked up. I turned up the volume on the recording and listened.

"Thank you for today. You were really a savior," she said into the receiver with a smile.

I couldn't hear what the other person said because the phone was not on speakerphone, but I saw her giggle softly.

"You are such a gentleman, you know?"

A pause. "Sure. Dinner will be a good way to show my appreciation."

I didn't realize I was gritting my teeth until then.

"Sure. I'll let you know when I'm ready. Bye, and thank you once again."

She dropped the call and held the phone to her chest dotingly, like it was some cherished possession.

What the fuck?

Did she have a boyfriend?

The thought sat wrong in my chest, heavier than it had any right to be for a woman I'd known less than a day. I told myself it was about the money, about the two million dollars sitting untouched in some hypothetical account waiting for her to be sensible about it, but I'd never been a good liar to myself, whatever I managed to pull off with everyone else.

My anger went through the roof when I saw her get into her closet. She came out dressed in a body-con gown that left very little to the imagination and sauntered out of the room with her handbag while humming a tune, looking entirely too pleased with herself for a woman who was supposed to be sitting at home deciding my three million dollars was worth taking.

I watched the recording twice more, which did nothing for my mood except confirm what I already knew: she looked good. Too good. Good enough that some nameless, faceless man with a good accent and apparently impeccable manners got to sit across from her tonight and watch her laugh at whatever he said, while I sat here replaying old footage of her like a man who had nothing better to do with an empire.

I did have better things to do. I chose not to do them.

Kegan would have called this obsession, if he'd seen the number of times I rewound that phone call. I preferred to think of it as due diligence. A man in my position couldn't afford to be careless about who he fucked, and if that meant memorizing the exact pitch of her laugh so I'd recognize it later, in a crowded room, over the sound of a hundred other voices, so be it.

Quickly, I picked up my phone and dialed Luca's number. He picked up on the first ring.

"She's not in her bed. Where is she?"

It took him a moment to understand what I meant. "I– I'm sorry, Boss, but I don't know. I'm currently trying to gather the file on the Iversons–"

"And why didn't you station someone to follow her?" I cut in angrily. "Fucking hell, I told you I need all the tabs on that woman.”

"I'm sorry. I'll do that now."

I groaned, feeling my patience thin to nothing. "Well, get to it!" I retorted. "And tap her phone too. I need to know who her boyfriend is. I think she has gone to meet him."

"I'll get to it, Boss."

"If you find him, bring him to me. I figure he might need a warning to keep off until I'm done with her."

"Sure, Boss."

"And Luca," I added before he could hang up, "if he so much as touches her tonight, I want to know within the hour. Not tomorrow. Not after your files. Within the hour."

There was a pause on the other end, the kind Luca gave me whenever he was recalibrating just how deep I'd sunk into whatever this was, the kind of pause that told me he'd be mentioning this to Kegan the second I hung up. "Understood, Boss."

I hung up and dropped the phone, but just as I tried to focus again, a soft knock landed on my door. Before I could tell the person to go away, the door was pushed open, and a head peeked in.

"Do I need to spell my name on your door before you remember you have a sister?" Melissa complained as soon as she stepped into the room.

I quickly turned off the monitor and rolled my eyes before glancing at my annoying sister. She'd dressed for a night out that clearly wasn't happening anymore, hair done, heels already on, and an expression that said she'd been building up to this complaint since she left Dylan's place. "Kegan said you were fine. Said you wanted to spend time with Dylan."

"Well, apparently, Dylan has found a new whore he's currently fucking, and that means every place in their house is a fucking hotel room. Where does that leave me?"

"In your house, I suppose?"

She gritted her teeth. "You mean little devil!" She shrieked and made to punch me, but she quickly held back when she spotted the blood on my chest. "You killed a man, didn't you?"

"Business." I shrugged.

"Man, I'm fucking jealous," she complained with a pout. "I need that kind of activity in my life."

"No, you don't," I replied dryly. "What you need is a clean, rich, handsome dude to marry you out of this family's dirty business."

"Well, while I wait for that–"

"I've had a long day, Melissa. I need to change out of this and go back out. I still have business to attend to."

She gave me her best crybaby face. "Then take me with you."

"No.”

"Russel, please," she pressed. "I could meet new friends and probably find a man to marry me out of this family's dirty business, like you put it."

"Girl, you're not even done with school," I scoffed. "And even if you were, the meeting I'm attending is not the place I want you to be." Before she could counter that, I added, "And it's certainly not a place for women."

"But you'll be there! Look—”

I cut her off again. "And it's not a place I want your husband to come from. You will avoid any Made Man on this planet, princess. Do you understand me?"

"But, Russel–"

"This discussion is over, kiddo," there was a note of finality in my voice. "Now off you go. I have work to do."

She lingered by the door a moment longer, arms crossed, clearly weighing whether one more argument might change my mind. It wouldn't have, and she knew it, which was the only reason she eventually huffed and turned on her heel instead of digging in further.

Before she could argue again, the door was pushed open, and Kegan stuck his head in. He gave Melissa a taunting smile and a dramatic wink, which she returned before turning to me.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

I gave her a satisfied smile. "Always."

When she was safely out, Kegan dropped a file on the bed. "We're leaving at thirty," he informed me.

"I'll be right out," I told him before he disappeared back out.

I sat there a moment longer, staring at the blank monitor like it might switch itself back on out of sheer spite. Somewhere across the city, Allesia Guerrero was laughing down a phone line at a man who wasn't me, wearing a dress that wasn't meant for anyone but the person taking it off her later, and I had a warehouse's worth of blood still drying under my fingernails and a sister to placate before I could even think about dealing with either problem.

Two hours, I'd told Kegan.

I was starting to think I'd been generous.

I peeled off the rest of my ruined clothes, showered fast enough that the water barely had time to run clear, and dressed in something that didn't smell like a dead man. By the time I made it downstairs, Kegan was already waiting by the car with that particular look on his face, the one that meant he had something to say and was deciding how much of it I wanted to hear.

"You look like a man who just found out his new toy has a social life," he said, sliding into the driver's seat, entirely too pleased with himself for someone who hadn't earned the observation.

"Drive, Kegan," I said, already done with the conversation before it started.

He drove. But the smirk stayed the entire way there, and I let him have it, because arguing would only mean admitting he was right, and I had absolutely no intention of doing that tonight.

I watched the streets instead of Kegan's face, mostly so he wouldn't see whatever expression I was currently failing to control, and let the two hours I'd promised myself tick down in silence, counting the minutes like they owed me something.