I return to the sitting room, and when I take a seat, Nisa asks, “What did Gabriel want to see you about?”
Oh crap.
Thinking quick, I lie, “He had questions about my past.”
Alya Hanim shakes her head. “I hate that Mazur got away.”
“Allah Allah. There will be no talk of that man while we’re planning your birthday party,” Nisa exclaims.
Alya Hanim picks up the guest list again. “Right, where were we.”
“Which rooms should we prepare for the family?” I remind her.
“The three on the first floor in the east wing. That way, they won’t be near you and Nisa, and I can keep an eye on them.”
Nodding, I say, “I’ll get everything ready today.”
With a lot of work to do, we go our separate ways. While I’m changing the sheets and airing out the rooms, Nisa is in the kitchen baking up a storm.
This will be the first birthday party I get to attend, and thinking I don’t have a gift for Alya Hanim, my teeth worry on my bottom lip.
Gabriel said I’m allowed to come and go as I please, but I still feel like I should ask his permission.
Maybe he’ll be home before I fall asleep, then I’ll ask him.
Chapter 30
Gabriel
Emre and I have been busy checking all the shipments of weapons before dispatching them.
Usually, I’d have my men do it, but seeing as the shipments are for high-valued clients, I didn’t want to risk something going wrong.
The moment I sit down to notify my buyers that their orders are on the way, my phone vibrates.
There’s a message from an unknown number. Opening it, I read the text.
My patience is wearing thin.
“Fuck your patience,” I mutter, instantly feeling aggressive.
When I don’t respond, a call comes through from the same number. I answer but remain quiet.
“Bastard. Are you there?” Mazur barks.
“Watch your fucking tone,” I warn him, promise of a cruel death lacing my words.
“What do you want for the girl?”
“Your bloody fucking heart in my fist,” I growl, wishing the man was in front of me so I could strangle the life from him.
“What have I done to you? We’ve never crossed paths when it comes to business.”
“We both have secrets, old man. You go first. Why do you want Lara?” I counter his question.
“It’s none of your fucking business. You took what belongs to me, and I want her back.”
Intense rage flares through me, and as I rise to my feet, my voice is filled with every bit of power I hold. “Lara isn’t your property. I’ve claimed her. You fucking touch her, and I swear I will peel the skin from your body and fucking feed it to you.”
“You have no right to claim her!” he shouts into my ear.
I inhale deeply, my voice deadly calm as I say, “She begged me on her knees. I spared her life, and that gave me every right. She’s mine. Don’t call again. I have nothing to say to you until we meet in person.”
I end the call and throw the fucking phone across the room. Needing to release some of the rage coiling in my chest, my fist slams into the desk, making everything on it rattle.
“Fucking bastard.”
“Who?” Emre asks as he appears in the doorway.
“Mazur.”
“You spoke to him again?” My cousin comes in and picks up my phone. “What did he say?”
“The same. The fucker wants Lara.”
Emre takes a seat and places the device on the table. “She’s the perfect bait to draw him out of his hiding place.”
Unreasonable anger reignites in my veins, and before I can calm myself, I shout, “She’s mine! I will kill anyone who tries to take her from me.”
I’m so fucking upset, my body trembles.
It takes a moment to realize what I just admitted to my cousin. Shoving a frustrated hand through my hair, I turn my back to Emre and stare out the window.
I take deep breaths until the rage subsides to a simmer in my chest.
“She’s yours?” Emre asks, his voice filled with caution. “When did this happen?”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “The past two weeks. I didn’t even see it coming.”
“Do you care about her?”
“I feel something,” I admit.
“Well, it’s definitely something from the strong reaction I just witnessed,” he mutters.
I underestimated my feelings for Lara.
Fuck.
Up until now, it was all about possessing her, making her submit to my will.
“I’m done talking about Lara,” I snap. Taking a seat behind my desk, I grab the phone and unlock the screen. At least the thing didn’t break. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” I warn Emre.
“My lips are sealed.”
“Take down this number and have Elif look into it,” I order, turning the screen to Emre so he can see it.
When he’s done, I dial the number for Petro Ramirez.
“Hola,” the Mexican answers.
“It’s Gabriel. Your shipment has been dispatched,” I inform him.