Eric didn’t move. “There are…additional complications.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Something you can’t handle?”
He smirked. “No, ma’am. But something I believe you’d prefer to.”
Of course.
Inspecting her reflection in the mirror, she noted the sharp taper of her eyeliner, the bold red of her lips. She smoothed her dark hair with practiced care.
Then, shoulders squared and expression unreadable, left the room.
The click of her four-inch heels echoed down the central staircase. She scanned the front entry, but it was empty.
He must be at the service entrance.
Walking through the kitchen and the back pantry, Adria could feel Eric behind her. She entered a large mud room and stopped.
A hulking man, taking up far more space than the room provided, stood hand outstretched, intending to shake hers. She ignored it, choosing instead to walk straight past him, needing to get a better look at the sight behind.
It was only due to years of training under her father that she was able to enter the room and look at the scenebefore her without betraying any emotion. Three Winters’ goons held onto three bound young men. Bryson was one of them. All three of them looked rough. Like they had been in a brawl and had lost badly. The right eye of the smaller one was almost swollen shut.
Adria fought to keep her hand steady. “What is the meaning of this?”
The hulking brute gave her a wicked grin. “They needed a little convincing to play nice.”
“Don’t worry, princess, we will be back to our eye-candy self before you know it.”
It was Bryson.
In his condition, Adria was surprised that he could even speak. Grabbing his chin, she turned his head forcefully from side to side. The damage was extensive, cuts and bruising, some fresh, some a few days old. The swelling that marred his once porcelain face took her breath away.
His long lashes fluttered over mud-colored eyes, as he winced at the rough handling.
“I see you haven’t lost your smart mouth,” she said.
He smiled, if she could call it that. His face was so swollen it was hard to tell.
“Yep, turns out I’d rather die than lose it.”
By the looks of him, that was true.
Adria’s heels were sharp against the floor, and she rounded on the leader.
“The agreement was for one.”
“Callen sent three.”
“I understand,” she said, hand on her hip, “but they must be in good condition. It will take months for them to recover.”
The goon scratched his chin. “I’ve seen worse.”
This family was a nightmare.
“That might be, but I require my subs to be in peakphysical health. This,” she gestured to the sight beside her, “was not part of the agreement.”
He shrugged. “Mr. Winters said if you are dissatisfied, you can always send them back.”
She pulled out her phone. On the third ring, Callen answered, “Miss Federov, calling to thank me so soon.”