Placing my attention back to my papers, I don’t bother to watch her leave. I have no doubt that her two companions are keeping an eye on me to see how I react.
“Sir?” Femi Olorun, the young man with the afro jogs over. “If crypto has such huge potential, then what’s the point of doing anything else?”
My gaze drifts over his shoulder, to where Phoenix is rising from her seat with the ever-attentive Bestlasson boy. I turn my focus back to Mr. Olorun and rattle off an explanation that makes sense.
Men in this business have significant wealth, but that’s never enough. Crius has an extensive real estate portfolio around Great Britain and beyond, which provide him with a significant income. Most men in his position would live off the rent and capital gains, but Crius is addicted to power.
Power over women, power over other men, power to do as he pleases.
As Mr. Olorun rubs his chin, thinking over my words, I collect my things and go.
Back at the office, I use my burner phone to call Quinn. “I need you to research something.”
“No hello,” she says. “No how are you?”
I relax into my seat. “Hello, Quinn. How are you?”
“Ah, forget about it,” she snaps. “What do you want?”
My lip quirks into a half-smile. “I want you to research venues close to Marina Village that aren’t connected to any of the major families.”
“Alright,” she replies. “But are you any closer to finding Crius?”
“Not even remotely.” I exhale my frustration in an outward breath. “You?”
“He doesn’t visit any of his brothels. At least not the ones we know.”
My jaw clenches. I swallow back a well of discontent. Not at Quinn but at my younger self for missing his heart.
“What’s this venue for, anyway?” her voice snaps me back to attention.
“I want to stage a concert with a student band.”
“Why?”
“His target is its lead singer.”
Quinn pauses. I don’t need to be in her presence to hear the gears whirring in her mind. She’s already worked out that I plan on luring Veer Bestlasson out of the secure campus with the promise of a larger audience.
“You’re thinking of stalking the abduction site,” she says.
“That’s right.”
“Don’t. Crius wouldn’t be stupid enough to snatch the target off the street himself,” she says.
“No, but the plan is to follow them to where they’re holding the boy. He won’t be able to resist checking up on his hostage at a later date,” I reply with a half-smile.
She hums, sounding satisfied. “I’ll get back to you, then.”
The door opens, and my gaze snaps up. Phoenix storms into the room, her cheeks a delightful shade of red. She stands with one hand on her hip and with her satchel hanging off the shoulder of her denim jacket at an awkward angle.
My gaze drops down to her slender legs, which are encased in knee-high socks that match her black miniskirt.
“Update me on your progress,” I murmur to Quinn before hanging up.
I sit straighter in my seat and turn my full attention to Phoenix. “It is customary to knock on a professor’s door before entering.”
She parts her lips to retort, but I raise a finger.