Page 11 of Model Billionaire

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“Kira?”

“Kias, my security team is dead. Someone knows where I am. I’m not safe.” I whisper into the phone. Even though this is a complete assumption that it was a targeted attack, I know it will get attention, so I stick to that because it's easier than explaining the truth– that I have no idea what happened or why they didn't search the rest of the house for anyone else.

“Okay. Stay where you’re at, I’m sending new security, and we’ll move you to a spot we have further from the city. Okay?”

“Okay.” I try to even my tone, ignoring the irritating feeling of failure. My men did their jobs, and in the end, we all die either way– by our employers’ hands if we fail them, or our enemies. I know this; hold onto it like a handkerchief to wipe away the thoughts that make their way to the surface now and again. If I really believe I'm born to lead, I had better stop this ridiculous shaking and let myself win like I always have.

“Meanwhile, I’ll look into this– figure out who the fuck thought it was a good idea to mess with us.”

“Okay,” I say again without thinking. The word comes out so quickly that I hear myself say it before realizing I was the one talking. I want to ask him to stay on the phone with me for a second until I’m out of this nightmare– I almost think he will– but then I hear his phone hang up. I know I should move now, get the hell out of this building and away from any semblance of the heinous crime scene just outside my door, but I don't. Instead, I stay completely still as I lose the ability to control my eyes briefly. They shift mindlessly between the tiles on the wall like they’re counting, my body out of my control.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I have to get my head back into reality, or I might be the next one with a slit throat and wrists. I clench my jaw so hard that my ears begin to ring, and that's when I regain control. The moment I do, I realize my phone has been ringing in my hand. I quickly answer without looking, making my voice as smooth as possible.

“Hello?”

“Hey, where are you?” I recognize it’s Romeo instantly.Shit.

“Hey.”

“Hi. We’ve already done this. Where are you?”

“I’m in my apartment. I—” I grit my teeth to stop myself from trying to postpone the date. I need this mission to go well, and as far as I'm concerned, it still is if I can stick to the plan. “I’ll be at Nobu in—” and type Nobu into my map, seeing that it’s just around the corner. I could walk and be there in ten minutes. Ten minutes in heels. I grit my teeth at the thought of the blisters, but I don’t care. This mission is paramount to everything in my entire life. Nothing is left but this. “Ten minutes.” I force a smile, so he can hear my sincerity, though it’s anything but.

“Okay, Lydia. See you then.”

“See you.” I hang up and stand to my feet. Brush off my dress, though I know it is clean. We haven’t even been here for a day, and the place is spotless—or at least it was. I find the knife on the counter with my eyes before I go to it cautiously. Even the handle is still entirely covered with blood, so I quickly rinse it off in the sink until there isn't any sign of misdemeanor, then grip it tightly to my frame as I take careful steps to the door. One last deep breath--and unlock the door and wait three seconds. This is usually about the time an attacker will begin to step closer to the door. If anyone is waiting for me on the other side, they’ll have to answer to a nine-inch knife in their skull. I won’t fuck around. Especially not after the horrors of tonight.

Quietly, I open the door and swing it wide, still waiting in the doorframe just in case. Three more seconds, and no one has lunged from the darkness of the hallway, so I slip out and walk directly to the front door.

The truth is, though, I'm being far too cautious. As brutal as the attackers were—killing every single person in sight– they would have killed me if they knew of my presence in the loft. I'm positive about that. I just need to get out and away from here, and then I’ll truly be in the clear. After gently placing my knife on the end table, I grab my purse off the coat hanger. As I do this, I force my eyes anywhere but the bloodied bodies lingering in my peripherals and carefully slip out the door. Immediately, I cross to the elevator, attempting to remain completely calm so that no one suspects I’ve seen anything noteworthy. On the other hand, internally, I feel turmoil beginning to wage war between reason and emotions. The walk to the outside world is full of that anticipation, consuming my every thought and movement.

The cold evening air hits my face and takes my breath away for a moment. I take begrudging steps forward, knowing that if someone is waiting for me outside the building, I should be dead by now. I continue to tell myself this until I’m headed down the sidewalk, following my map on my phone that I have no memory of setting up, as I turn at the end of the street.

This is fine, I’ll be fine, I’m safe.

These are lies, of course. None of this is fine. I am everything but okay right now. The turmoil within me builds up with every step, but I’m holding it back like a dam. Maybe the dam is cracking and threatening to burst, but at least for now, I’m holding it. That’s all I have to do– hold it for tonight. Take one day at a time.

On the matter of safety, it’s something I’m very used to never having. Even in the Magdalin, I’m never truly safe. People have tempers, weapons, and superiority complexes bigger than the entire Bratva hierarchy. I’m used to this lifestyle, but it doesn’t mean I don’t go into shock when I lose someone I care about.

That’s my fault, though. Caring for people only causes me pain. It’s easier to play the game and get the job done. At least that way, I can one day get what I want.

I can already feel the blisters forming as I continue to walk with purpose, but I don’t care. It’s just like life. Pain is in your mind, but winning is always about the effort you put in. So, I keep going, come what may.

6

ROMEO

There’s a text from Vince on my screen.

Send a clear message, and get out. Take care of it, knives only.

I’m squinting at the bright screen of my phone in the darkness of the car filled with my team for tonight. Our mission— infiltrate the hideout of the Russian informants, send a message, and make it untraceable. They want to send us a bloody note that the little treaty they made with my brothers was void, then we can send one right back.

Pops used to always say ‘knives only’ when he wanted no one left to talk. Does that method make total sense to me in this New Era of peace? No. But I’m not about to question Vince. I’ve already done that too many times this week, and look where it landed me— on a mission before my date with the hottest woman I have yet to fuck.

I’m glad I have a change of clothes in the car, just in case blood gets on these.


Tags: Sophia March Billionaire Romance