Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“You fucking lied to me.”
She stops talking. Her jaw works, but her eyes narrow in thought. This woman is crafty and clever, and she’s already figuring out what I’m talking about. I sink down into my chair but remain leaning forward, taking control of the room with my body language.
“What, exactly, do you think I lied about?”
“Demir Yilmaz.”
She hesitates before sitting sharply. Her legs cross, and she considers me primly. “I told you already, my lawyers are handling that snake.”
“And I’m sure that’s true, but we both know that won’t come to anything.” I study her for a moment, considering my plan of attack. “Do you know who detonated that car bomb during my wedding to Lucy?”
The sudden change of subject catches her off guard. “The police say it was a terrorist attack.”
“But a terrorist attack by whom?”
“I don’t know. You can go ahead and ask the mayor for all I care. That has nothing to do—”
“It was Gray Wolf,” I say, cutting her off.
Her jaw flexes. Again, she doesn’t panic. It’s almost admirable. “And who is that?” she asks, which is smart. Pretend like she doesn’t know.
“Gray Wolf is the criminal organization fronted by Demir Yilmaz. The same Demir you pretended isn’t important. But we both know you were lying because your deal with him extends much further than a simple loan against assets.” I press my lips together for a moment. “Unless you consider Lucy an asset.”
Helena says nothing. She drops the outraged pretense. Her face goes cold as she considers me, one manicured fingernail tapping against a gold necklace at her throat. “You really believe that man?”
“I believe the tortured and brutalized associates of his that I tossed into the river.”
Her mouth quirks. “Admitting to murder?”
“Don’t act scandalized. You know who I am. What I want to know is, why did you do it? Why did you promise Lucille to Demir only to give her away to me instead?”
I expect her to deny it. I don’t have definite proof of any deal yet. Demir says it happened, and his actions suggest it’s true, but that’s still circumstantial.
Instead, the old woman leans back in her chair.
“I did what I had to do to protect my family,” she says simply.
I let that sink in. It’s true, all of it. Helena offered her granddaughter to Demir as part of their arrangement, but she went back on her agreement to him and married the girl to me instead.
She pushed me into a war with Gray Wolf without ever saying a word.
The clever fucking bitch.
“Why would you get me involved in this? Demir’s got power and influence. If that’s all you needed, why not let Lucy marry him like you promised?”
She scowls at me like I’m the dumbest man alive. “Do you really think I’d ever let my blood get near that Turkish pig? You think I’d let my granddaughter, useless as she is, breed with that animal? You’re bad, Adriano, but your organization is nowhere near as bad as Gray Wolf.”
“This is about racism? You can’t stand the idea of your granddaughter marrying a Turkish man, so you decided to start a war?”
She barks a sharp laugh. “If only it were that simple. I don’t care about race. This is about morality. From the outside, Gray Wolf smuggles stolen artifacts. And that’s true; they have a stranglehold over the high-end antiques business all over the world thanks to their private auctions and their authentication services. But they smuggle far more than just a bunch of old paintings and pottery.”
I tilt my head. From what I know, Gray Wolf really does stick to their specialty. There are always rumors, but I’ve mostly ignored those since I don’t have any business with them.
“You’re talking about the girls.”
Her mouth twitches as she nods, eyes narrowed. “Young girls. The younger, the better. I didn’t know about any of this when I first made the deal with Demir, but once the weight of our financial struggles began to lift thanks to the loan he gave me, I began to research my future family members. And I did not like what I found.”
She stands and drifts over to the window. Her body language is tense, but she retains her quiet dignity. I doubt this woman’s ever been out of control of herself, at least not for a very, very long time.
“Preteens from Jakarta,” she says quietly like she’s listing off items on a shipping container. And maybe that’s what she’s doing. “Sisters from Indonesia. A dozen girls taken from an orphanage in rural China. Six more from Pakistan. More from war-torn Syria, the Philippines, every poverty-stricken corner of this world where awful people will do awful things to survive. Gray Wolf uses their smuggling network to move the girls to where they need to be. Typically to yachts anchored off various private islands. Sometimes to mansions right here in the States. Wealthy people have all sorts of tastes, Adriano, and there is always a market somewhere.”