Page 18 of The Bonventi War
Ileave Raven to think about her new set of rules and walk into my apartment. What a fucking joke.
I scan the space and can't help but laugh. This place is a goddamn shoebox compared to my mansion. The living room barely fits a couch and my equipment. The kitchen? My master bathroom is bigger.
"Fourteen thousand a month for this shithole," I mutter, shaking my head.
The previous tenant, some insurance salesman with more attitude than sense, knew he had me by the balls when I approached him about wanting his place for a few months. Could've handled him the old-fashioned way, a few broken fingers tend to change people's minds real quick, but that would've drawn attention. Attention I can't afford right now, not with all that's going on.
My phone buzzes. A notification from the new security system I had installed. I sit down in front of the monitors, enter my password, and the screens come to life.
I watch as the feed cycles through the cameras. Gallery, storage room, basement, all clear. Then Raven's living room comes into view.
She's standing there, staring straight at the camera. That defiant look is back, the one that makes my blood boil.
Without breaking eye contact, she bends down, slips off one of those ridiculous heels, and throws it at the lens. The image shakes from the impact.
"Fuck you!" Her voice comes through crystal clear before she flips off the camera and storms out of view.
I exhale sharply, shaking my head.
She is a feisty little thing, isn't she?
I let out a laugh because the answer to that question doesn't matter. What matters is that she's a problem. A liability. And problems like her get people killed. If she had any common sense, she'd be grateful I'm here keeping her alive. Instead, she's acting like a goddamn brat.
I mute the camera and make some calls. Let her stew. A few hours later, I get another alert. Raven's living room again.
I shouldn't even look. I should be focusing on other plans, on figuring out what the hell is going on with those shipments. But my hand moves on its own, clicking on the feed. It'll just take a second.
She's pacing now, muttering to herself, her movements sharp with frustration. Probably cursing my name or plotting ways to make my life difficult. It's irritating, this constant defiance. Doesn't she realize I could crush her with a flick of my wrist?
Then, she stops. Sits down. Picks up a sketchpad.
She's sketching again. Head bent, tongue caught between her teeth. There – that little crinkle of her nose. Dissatisfied. Erasing, fast and hard, like she's trying to obliterate something. She's a pain in the ass, but at least she's predictable. For now, at least.
As the day wears on, I check the feed again. More than I should. Not because I care what she's doing, but because I know she's hiding something. The way she moves, the way she stares at nothing in particular, like she's working through some plan in her head—she's up to something, and I'm going to find out what it is.
She sits on the couch, flipping through channels, but she's not really watching. Her eyes are distant, unfocused, and that shouldn't bother me, but it does. It reminds me that the answers I need are being kept from me by someone playing games. Someone who is messing around with me and that pisses me off.
I shake my head. This whole situation is a goddamn headache. I'm used to clear-cut objectives, to people following orders. This woman, she's….
My phone buzzes and I look down. It's Ares. I answer on the second ring.
"Ares, what you got for me?"
"Gio, my man," Niko's slightly accented voice comes through. "I've got some interesting information for you. About that gallery and crates you asked about."
I lean forward, focusing on the call. "Go on."
"I ran the info around, and it turns out we know the place well. My brothers, my sister, and even me, we've bought from there before, or at least from the guy who runs it. Frank—he's a real good salesman. The son is a little prick, though."
"Was," I correct him. "Dead, remember?"
"Right. You know, shit doesn't make sense. No one knows why he went after your brother. I couldn't find any Russian connections, nothing. Even the Russians are saying?—"
"Yeah, fuck them," I snap. "I know they had something to do with it and I'm going to figure it out."
"Well, you know my family is with you. We hope it doesn't escalate to war, but hell, our families have been friends for a lifetime. When we heard about Marco, it felt like my own flesh and blood was hit."
"I appreciate that, Ares. We hold you and your family in the same regard, but—" I pause, my gaze drifting back to the security feed. Raven moves across the room, grabs a bottle of water, then sinks onto the couch like she hasn’t got a care in the world. Too casual. Too controlled. No one in her position should be this at ease.
