Semua Bab The Enigmatic Mafia Boss: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Sierra’s POVSeveral places spring to mind without me trying hard, and none of them is a second-rate hotel in Ireland. There are few times I can remember my father putting his wants, his needs,aftermine.“And you?” I glance at Eric.He scoffs and shakes his head. “We were engaged once. Those feelings don’t just turn off.”“Well, I suppose that was the problem with our engagement. You couldn’t turn off those feelings for anyone.”Beside me, Jay snorts and then covers it up with his fist and a cough. When we get to the pub across the street advertising an Irish breakfast, Jay enters first, and the three of us stand outside the door for a minute.“This is the new protocol?” My father puts his hands on his hips. “He sweeps the place before you ever enter? Seems to be an overreaction to a CIA meeting.”I sigh and purse my lips. Impossible to win. “How about me almost being shot? How about Valeriya being murdered? How about the PLA doing business with my company behind my back? Any of that

Flint’s POVSierra rises and steps around the chairs between us to roll my seat back and perch on my lap. "Tell me." Her fingers stroke my furrowed brow."He seems to believe that whatever he and your dad have cooked up, it'll bring you and him closer together." I clear my throat. "You'll pick him."She grins and wraps her arms around my neck. "Never in a million trillion years. There is nothing he could say or do to make me leave you and go to him.""He seemed very confident."Her lips quirk up in derision. "That's his thing-he's confident even when he's wrong. One of his worst qualities." Sierra's gaze focuses above my head. "Heisa win-at-all-cost sort of person, though." Her expression morphs into one of determination. "I wouldn't be with him even if he threatened to kill me."I tighten my arms around her at the suggestion. "He'd never get a chance. He'd be dead as soon as the idea entered his head."There's a sharp knock on the door. She tries to stand, but I increase my grip on h

Flint’s POVThe tension between Sierra and Opal is unmistakable. They're circling each other, current events, upcoming commitments, neither of them saying what they're thinking. Nothing has happened to Charles–was the first question Sierra asked-which is unfortunate. With him gone, I could eliminate Eric or have someone do it. She would forgive me. Having her father wrapped up in whatever bullshit scheme they've cooked up makes it too complicated to get rid of one without the other. Especially since I can't yet uncover what they're planning. I'm on the cusp of telling her to fire Eric just to see if that sets something in motion.With our sleuthing, there are no hints of secret deals. No more sinister connections Sierra doesn't already know. No paper trails. Unregistered or foreign bank accounts are noted somewhere. We haven't even come across more evidence of PLA involvement with Eric or her dad. What the fuck are they planning? Opal's here perched on Sierra's couch like a bird pois

Flint’s POVWhile Sierra and I pack in our bedroom, I debate whether to let her come to Russia. There's so much we don't understand. I stuff more clothes into my duffel bag and glance at her as she wanders into the en suite to get her makeup.Curiosity is a powerful thing, and I'm definitely curious about what Eric has been doing. He didn't sound scared in his voicemail messages, or even full of his usual asshole bravado. No, he was excited. Why? I stop packing and lean against the dresser while Sierra continues to put things into her suitcase."Spit it out." She doesn't break her rhythm of sorting and discarding. "You're over there brooding about something.""Don't come to Russia."She laughs. "I'm going to Russia. He called me, not you, and he said you could come along for the show." She throws skincare products into her bag with a huff. "I don't care anymore about what he's doing. You're right. I'll fire him. I don't know why I haven't done it yet."She knows why. I understand why.

Flint’s POVThe room Charles assigned to us belongs in a museum. Historical eras aren't my thing, but it's clear this place hasn't had any facelift since the house was built, which was probably a hundred years ago. From the doorway, everything seems clean enough, and nothing smells like mothballs or mildew. I sigh. These thoughts are just a distraction from the fucking fertility circus downstairs. A poor effort to calm the hell down, and it's not working.As I close the bedroom door, I realize I should say something to Sierra, but I don't have any idea where to start. My blood boils, rage coursing through me at Eric and her father creating this child without her consent. When she was at her lowest, they tricked her into signing away her rights to her future children. Their motives are inconceivable to me-and I've done a lot of shitty things in the name of profit or revenge. But this? Their plan is so misguided. How could either of them think a baby was the right solution?My brain s