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Another part of the mystery I intended to unravel.

When Reginald looked up at me, I could see the fear in his eyes. I hated putting it there, but he left me no choice. I would never harm him, but he didn’t know that. Something had definitely happened all those years ago. Something alarming enough to make my beloved cousin believe I would actually hurt him. And when I found out what it was that caused him to leave the family, I was going to kill.

“Please trust me. I know she is yours to protect. Reginald Buchannon, I give you my word as head of the Valentinetti family that no harm will come to Layla.”

The men behind me gasped as I gave the formal promise. I didn’t do it lightly, but I knew it was the only way for Reginald to begin to trust me again, and when he nodded, I smiled. “Are you ready,Bella?”

“Yes,” she replied, walking out from behind my cousin to stand next to me.

“We will return in three hours, Reggie. In the meantime, please allow Sebastian to work his magic.”

Reggie nodded, saying nothing more.

The ride into the city didn’t take that long, and the closer I got to my meeting with Vito Grimaldi, the more I wasn’t so sure about anything anymore. I couldn’t really place what I was feeling, but I wasn’t as happy with the terms we agreed upon.

A few hours ago, the warning Layla told me kept ringing in my head. Could she be right? And if so, how does she know? What does she know? I learned early in life that things just didn’t happen. My own father was one to watch and listen, to look beyond what everyone saw. He would be cautious of everything and everyone until the time for a decision was needed to be made.

For the longest time, I always went with my instincts, and right now, my instincts were shouting at me to have Marko turn the car around. To cancel the meeting.

“It’s not too late,” Layla barely said.

I lightly nodded, refusing to answer. I never talked in vehicles I didn’t own. Call it a paranoia of sorts, but if I didn’t own them, I didn’t trust them. Even my cousins were aware of that and kept quiet during the drive, only giving me updates on time and destinations.

“May I see your phone?” she asked softly, turning to look at me. I silently handed her my phone, watching as she began to type. She handed me back my phone when she was finished, and I read.

Don’t make a deal with Grimaldi. He is partners with a man called the Collector. The Collector is a human trafficker the Golden Skulls are trying to bring down. I know you want an alliance with Reaper. Follow through with the deal, and Reaper will never align himself with you.

I quickly looked at her, saying nothing as she simply shrugged her shoulders before turning to look out the window once more. This woman was not who she seemed. I needed to know more about her fast. Was she friend or foe? Could I trust what she was telling me? I just didn’t know, and I didn’t like not knowing things.

Typing into my phone, I asked.

Who are you really?

I placed my phone in her lap.

She took it and read it before adding to it.

A friend. Trust no one. War is coming to your family. Wait for Reaper.

After reading what she typed, I simply said, “Change of plans, Marko. Head straight to the spa.”

I don’t know why I did it, but the moment the car turned around, the unease I had felt stopped.

I waited patiently over the next few hours as Layla was handed over to Victoria and her staff. When she reemerged, Layla looked nothing like the woman from before. She was polished, buffed, and dressed beautifully. Her hair now shined brightly like a halo highlighting her striking gray eyes and creamy skin. She was absolutely stunning. She reminded me of some fifty’s starlet from Hollywood. She took my breath away.

“You look magnificent,Bella,” I said, greeting her as she walked over to me as Marko handed me a small black bag. “While you were enjoying your spa day, I had Marko get you something.”

Layla simply smiled and took the bag. I said nothing more as she pulled out a small black cell phone. When she looked back up at me, I added, “My number and Marko’s are pre-programmed. If you need anything, all you have to do is call or text.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“You’re most welcome,” I replied. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Marko, the car, please,” I said, taking her arm as I led her out of the spa. “I know the perfect place. I hope you like Italian.”

“More than you know.”


Tags: Rebecca Joyce Crime