Page 33 of Reign of a Billionaire
Unfortunately, they were like Hydra. You cut off the head of one, two more emerged from the shadows. Those fuckers had to be burned from within with a torch and gasoline.
“Don’t worry, Rora,” I said while checking my phone and plotting a war. A message from Nico Morrelli waited for me. I opened it and scanned the invite list. Tension rolled through me as I realized Liana Volkov was hard at work, getting herself added on the guest list as “Princess Leia,” and those idiots in the Tijuana cartel hadn’t even picked up on it. Slightly impressed, I let dry amusement fill me.
Why in the fuck would she want to attend one of Santiago Tijuana Senior’s parties? They were sick and twisted. There was a reason Raphael Santos pushed him. Thank fuck I’d tasked Nico with keeping anything related to the Volkov family on his radar.
“Kingston, you know I’d do anything and everything for you,” my sister said, her brows bunching together with worry. “But I don’t have a good feeling about whatever it is that you’re planning.”
My smart little sister. Anything related to those cretins was bound to end in catastrophe. But I couldn’t stop it any more than the moon could stop its rise in the sky every night.
“I got it all under control.”
Aurora and Alexei shared a look.
Neither one of them believed me.
Chapter 17
Liana
Ishouldn’t be here.
The thought rang through my mind on repeat. I’d have liked to think I was a smart woman, but this was just plain dumb.
After our impromptu trip to Moscow and subsequent run-in with Mother’s lover, Donatella—which I was positive wasn’t accidental—I was able to lose the two women and the bodyguard who’d been following me like an annoying shadow.
It gave me the opportunity I’d been searching for to do my own thing. After shaking off my security, who wouldn’t admit they’d lost me for fear of punishment from the terrifying Sofia Volkov, I found myself back in the States. I was able to get information on the deal that the Tijuana cartel was brokering. I was a street over from the Capitol Building in D.C. where human rights should be protected. Yet, here I was, witnessing the workings of criminals and corrupt politicians alike.
After hearing about my father’s death and the mysterious ghost, I returned to my room and looked up information on Juliette DiLustro. There wasn’t much to find, aside from the fact that she was married to Dante DiLustro, who was one of thefour Kingpins in the Syndicate. A search for Luciano Vitale and his wife didn’t produce much more aside from a few photos inEntertainment Weekly.
The next search topic was even less productive.Ghost.I worked on my laptop, trying to uncover any clue as to who or what the ghost was. I’d been trying for hours when a message came in from a new unknown number.
I pulled out my phone and unlocked it, expecting it to be from my earlier mystery acquaintance. Frowning, I read the message a second time.
If you keep looking for me, you won’t like what you find. I wasn’t one of the most lethal men in the underworld for naught.
I gave my head a subtle shake. There was only one explanation that fit. The Ghost must have sent this. But who was he? Was he even ahe? I attempted to reply to the message, but it bounced back. Whoever sent it must not have known me well. Now I was even more curious. I hadn’t been able to trace the line back to any of Mother’s associates. It kept circulating on loop, never leaving the D.C. area.
I hadn’t learned the source of the message or any details about the Ghost. However, I did learn about this event, meaning my efforts weren’t completely in vain.
So here I was back in D.C., crashing a party in enemy territory, and there was no guarantee I’d make it out alive. Mother was busy who-knew-where with who-knew-what.
It was all the better, because it allowed me to pursue my own leads, which now put me in a favorable position in a casino owned by the Tijuana cartel.
It was stupid as fuck, but I couldn’t ignore my sense of responsibility. It weighed me down like the excess baggage I’dcarried around since my twin’s death. Hell, maybe even since I’d learned of our family’s sins.
I glanced around the well-lit terrace, seeing faces that the FBI would run over each other to get their hands on. Criminals mingling without a care in the world, vacant-looking women on their arms. Mostly underage. Mostly under the influence.
Some database maneuvering secured my name on the list of invitees—not without a handsome fee, of course.
The scene made me sick. My fingers itched to grab my handgun and start shooting, but I had a target in mind, so I wouldn’t let myself get trigger-happy.
The breeze carried the music through the terrace, the bass and sound of slot machines mixing into a rhythm that seemed to drive more than a few drunks to dance beneath the tacky strobe lights.
I stood in the corner, watching people and their ridiculous greed. For profit and power, while choosing ignorance over integrity. No matter though, because tonight, all these girls paraded around would be set free.
Cool air swept through the night and licked at my skin, fragrant with sex, alcohol, and sin. The sound of rowdy laughter drew my attention, and I spotted a gray-haired man in the northern corner of the terrace, surrounded by sinister-looking men.
I swallowed.
