Page 51 of Hers to Command

Imeet Eric at an old auto shop just outside of the city. It’s one of those places that doesn’t ask questions and specializes in ‘no paper trail’ deals. The perfect spot for someone like Eric to meet with someone like me without raising suspicion. People who work here know better than to gossip.

Eric is leaning against a car hood, arms crossed, his sharp, angular features illuminated by a single flickering fluorescent light. His eyes flick to me as I enter.

“Mrs. Angelo,” he drawls, the name carrying a judgment that doesn’t sit well with me.

“Cut the crap, Merlino,” I snap, stepping closer. “You owe me.”

His smile fades, replaced by something colder. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good. Because I need information.”

Eric shifts, his gaze narrowing. “What kind of information?”

“The kind that won’t get you in trouble with Gianna,” I say, watching his reaction closely. “I’m not asking you to cross her. Just to get me some info on Dmitri Solntsev.”

Eric’s jaw tightens. “Sure, we’re already watching him, same as you, I suspect. Not sure we have much to share that you don’t already know.”

“Maybe, but you’re not doing anything about him, so you can probably get more information without making him suspicious,” I counter. “And I don’t have the luxury of waiting, so I need this quick. I need to know where his weak points are. Especially how I can get to him alone so his family doesn’t learn about it. That’s the information I want from you.”

Eric looks away, running a hand through his dark hair. For a moment, I think he’s going to refuse, but then he looks back at me, his expression unreadable.

“It might not be crossing her directly, but if this gets back to Gianna or Mikhail, for that matter...”

“It won’t,” I cut him off. I hate that he is closer to Mikhail now than I am. The fucking enforcer for the Bruno’s is worried about upsetting my brother while I barely talk to him anymore. I shake the thought off. “This is between us. And don’t forget, Eric... I saved her life. And your baby’s.”

For a long moment, he says nothing, then finally nods. “Fine. I’ll give you what I can. But don’t expect miracles. The guy might not be anyone’s first choice, but Solntsev isn’t a complete idiot either. It may take me a few days.”

I nod. I don’t like having to wait, but I can’t really argue Eric’s point.

Two days later, I find an envelope sitting on the kitchen counter. It catches my attention immediately, since Riccardo’s mail usually goes straight to his office. I know I didn’t leave it there, and Mrs. Batton is meticulous about tidying up.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I step closer, stopping short when I see my name scrawled across the front in neat, feminine handwriting.

My nails snag on the edge of the flap as I tear it open, my eyes darting toward the staircase. Riccardo’s been working from home these past couple of days, though I can’t decide if it’s to keep an eye on me or because it makes it easier for us to screw whenever the mood strikes.

Probably both.

The thought makes me uneasy, despite the constant orgasms, but I shove it aside, pulling the note out of the envelope.

Since my period ended and I’ve now been on birth control for a week, I don’t need to stress about Riccardo’s fucked up ideas about knocking me up anymore. Feeling every inch of him, bare, without the barrier of latex or worry, is a new kind of addiction.

Still, I can’t ignore that I felt a flicker of disappointment when my period started.

Messed up. That’s what it is.

The logical part of me is relieved. There’s no room in my life for a child, especially not now. But there’s another part, buried somewhere I’d rather not acknowledge, that feels a pang at the idea of not having a family anymore. Not really, anyway.

A baby could give me that.

Shaking the thought from my head, I focus on the letter, unfolding the paper.

The faint hum of Riccardo’s voice on a call reassures me I have a moment alone.

The note is written in an entirely different handwriting, making me think that Eric had his wife Mia write the address to avoid any suspicions.

There are only a few lines of text.

Solntsev visits the club on Drewry Ave. every 2-3 nights. Arrives around 10 PM. Prefers Katja and always uses room #7. Two guards stationed outside. Armed. See photo.

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