Page 37 of The Russian's Forced Bride
Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but faltered, and despite how icy cold the room was, sweat dripped down her forehead.
“Cassandra,” I spoke lowly amidst the music thrumming beneath the glass walls, yet I was certain she could hear me clearly. “Talk.”
“He’s here.” She looked away. “I didn’t know he was a member of this club because he came in under a false identity using a clean ID through some foreign investment program. Lorenzo Hernandez was what he went by, and apparently, he’s been visiting this club regularly.”
I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on the plush, velvety lounge sofa. It couldn’t be. There was no way that bastard was at my club—unless he had no idea I owned it. But then again, she probably wasn’t talking about who I suspected she was talking about.
“By ‘he,’ you mean—”
“Joaquin. Joaquin Saavedra is at this club, sir.”
My pulse raced as adrenaline surged through my body, my eyes twitching with the chaos of a million thoughts rushing through my mind. I had him right here. But it wasn’t yet a checkmate. Even though I desperately wanted to kill the bastard, I couldn’t do it here—especially not without Matvey giving the go-ahead.
And there was this game he was playing with me. That was the most urgent matter on the ground. I could simply inform Matvey about whatever I could learn right now.
But then again, I wanted that man dead.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I took a quick glance back at Arlette, who was still dancing, oblivious to the chaos that was about to ensue. I couldn’t let either of them know they were in here.
“Get Arlette and her friend out of here,” I instructed Cassandra, getting to my feet. “Don’t make a commotion so no one knows what’s happening. I don’t want her or Joaquin knowing that either of them is in this club. Got it?”
Cassandra nodded as I slipped on my suit jacket now.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Just two booths away from the DJ. He has a hat on, and there’s not much happening at his booth. My guess is, he’s not trying to make his presence known.”
Well, too bad—his sorry excuse for a cover was already blown.
I gently tapped Cassandra’s shoulder before leaving the VIP room, heading down the spiral stairway to the main floor. I blended into the crowd to avoid being noticed, and while Arlette was too busy having fun, I slipped over to the booth Cassandra had told me about.
At the stage center and hanging off a stripping pole was a brunette dressed in nothing but tape to cover her breasts and pussy. And seated just two booths away from that woman was my target.
Joaquin Saavedra.
His eyes were set on the woman as he sipped from his drink, and though a black hat covered his eyes, I could tell clearly from his mannerisms that it was him.
I approached him, slipping into the booth across from him so we were face-to-face. He didn’t notice me at first until I cleared my throat.
A few of his men were around us—I could tell by the way they silently exchanged glances—but they couldn’t act foolishly. Not only was this my club, but I was right in front of their boss, too. If things became way too complicated, I could always blow his head off.
A flash of surprise flickered in Joaquin’s eyes when they met mine, but he quickly composed himself, a bright smile spreading across his face.
For a man approaching his fifties, Joaquin was surprisingly fit. He had a burly physique, with tattoos lining his exposed arms and stopping right at the nape of his neck. But he didn’t scare me—because in a battle of sheer strength, I was confident I would win.
“Rafael. What a surprise,” he beamed, showing off his crooked teeth marred with plaque. The foul smell coming from his mouth made me recoil in disgust as I fought to hide my revulsion.
So I feigned a bright smile.
“I could say the same, Joaquin.” I slipped off my suit jacket. “I own this club. Never knew you were a regular.”
“Ahh,” the bastard mused. “I didn’t know you did, but that doesn’t change anything, now does it?”
He then handed me a filled shot of whatever the hell he was drinking, but when I didn’t take it from him, he dropped it back onto the table between us.
“I cost you half a million last week,amigo. Don’t tell me you’re still upset about that,” Joaquin blatantly admitted. Shrugging his shoulders, he added, “It’s all part of business.”
