Page 28 of Stolen By the Don

“Good. Now get the fuck out.” He doesn’t hesitate, turning and shuffling out while trying not to trip over his feet.

I lean back again as my jaw grinds and my heel taps sharply on the ground. It’s Isabella. There’s no mistaking the source of my annoyance at Billie’s rambling.

But there’s more. She was supposed to be bait. While I had no intention of giving her back, she was supposed to befuckingbait. If she was disposable to him, he won’t be coming to save her.

Phase one of my plan has failed.

She’ll be disappointed.That the father she so championed, unable to believe him capable of committing a crime like murder, has abandoned her. It will certainly make things easier for me.

I imagine the look on Isabella’s face when I tell her that her father had no plans of handing over anything to her. She was simply a tool he used to push his ambitions. Her marriage would’ve been the seal—a union between the two families would’ve made him almost unstoppable.

Well, not almost.But he’d have gotten some form of protection against my wrath, making it a bit harder to touch him.

Perhaps it’ll be easier to break her now. When she sees that she has no one else to turn to and realizes she’s at my mercy, she’ll bemore complacent. If nothing else, I’ll have a better idea of who Marco Ricci might be working with to flee the country.

In the meantime,there’s something else I need to do.

Picking up my phone, I make a call. “Can you make some time for me?” I listen to the person at the other end for a while, nodding at intervals. “Okay. I’ll see you at eight.”

“Heading home?” Leo accosts me as I step out of my office.

“No,” I say, walking past him.

He spins, catching up with me in a couple of steps. “No? Do you have other obligations I’m not aware of?”

“Yes, Leonardo. I do. And you were away for the entire day, so I could say the same about you,” I say sarcastically. Not that I care what he uses his time for, but I’d rather not tell him the details of my plan until I can put a pin in it.

Leo steps in front of me before I can reach the elevator, arms casually spread like he’s trying not to look like a barrier. “This is merely an observation, but I’d like to point out you haven’t gone home in two days.” He keeps his voice light. “Are you avoiding her?”

“Isabella,” I say flatly. “You can say her name.”

He gives me a knowing look, and for a second, I consider walking right through him. It’d be impossible, but I’d still like to try.

“So I was right.” He folds his arms. “Avoidance isn’t your style, Roman. You usually face things head-on. Handle it. Control it. Destroy it. So…what gives?”

“Misplaced curiosity doesn’t suit you, Leonardo.” I use his full name again, but my tone is short this time, telling him not to push the subject.

He nods solemnly as his hands fall and he steps to the side. “My apologies. I overstepped.”

Even before the response leaves his lips, I already feel shitty. “I—” I start apologizing, but the words refuse to come out. Because it’s unlike me…taking back my words, breaking my rules, and showing affection for a woman who should mean nothing to me.

I sigh inwardly as I silently press the button, stepping into the elevator as the doors open. I turn, and there’s a look on Leo’s face. It’s concern but also something else.

The first time I saw it was at the morgue when I went there to identify my father.

Sympathy.

Fucking hell. It made me feel weak then. Vulnerable too. I look away as I press the button for the first floor, shutting him out of sight.

I don’t need his sympathy. What I want is Marco Ricci and everybody else who betrayed my father. Everything else is secondary.

“Boris Glazastov,”I say as the heavyset man stops me in front of Glazastov’s office. “Tell him it’s Roman Volkov.”

He reaches for the walkie-talkie attached to his gear, mumbling something. Then he stares me down—an intimidation tactic I let slide. I’m here to negotiate, not cause trouble.

Or I’d take him down without breaking a sweat. And probably break his hands in the process.

“You can go in.” He opens the door.

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