Page 4 of A Sixpence For Your Shoe (Revenge Brides #6)
CHAPTER FOUR
Vincent
T he front door closes, and my eyes flicker open to find the other side of my bed empty. I sigh in disappointment. I hadn’t planned on letting her leave without a little more fun.
I reach out and touch the sheets where she was sleeping. They are still warm from her body.
Smiling, I stretch my legs out and yawn loudly.
Last night was incredible.
I wanted to ask her to join me for dinner, but lo-and-behold she’s pulled a runner. I shouldn’t be surprised. The amount of times I’ve snuck out without saying goodbye.
Besides - I know how to find people and I definitely intend to find her. She isn’t getting away from me that easily.
I’ll enjoy the chase, anyway. It gives me something to do and it will only make finding her that much more satisfying when I do. And I’ll punish her for leaving without a word.
I prefer things not to be too easy. I like to work for the things I want in life to give them more value.
It’s the byproduct of having too much money.
The things you want end up being things you can’t buy.
Like a dark-haired girl who sneaks away without a word.
Although - with the amount of money I have I can buy anything.
It’s just about how you present the offer.
I shake my head and close my eyes, letting the memory of her body against mine steal me away for a moment.
I have to find her.
She’s perfect.
I’ll have my men visit the restaurant today and get her details. I’m sure they’ll try to tell me its confidential information, but I have ways of getting what I want.
Throwing the blankets off myself, I sit on the edge of the bed and stretch my arms above my head. My muscles flex and shift as I roll my neck from side to side.
My body is craving her.
I need a coffee - then I’ll start making calls.
Slipping into a pair of sweatpants, I wander through to the kitchen and set a mug beneath the coffee machine. I press cappuccino and it hums to life. The aroma of dark coffee fills the air, and I breathe it in with satisfaction.
While I wait for it, I spot my phone on the counter and lean over to pick it up - my wallet - I don’t ever put it down like that. I am quite specific about where things go and -
Aah. I toss it up and down in my hand, feeling the weight and shape of it.
I chuckle as I lift it and understand how much thinner it is compared to what it should be.
“Cheeky little raven, stealing treasures that don’t belong to her.”
The coffee machine finishes and beeps softly.
I carry my steaming mug of coffee and my phone to the living room and sit down to enjoy the morning sunshine filtering in through the side windows.
She stole from me.
Because of who I am - I never let anyone get away with stealing from me. Even my own children wouldn’t dare to do it. If someone who worked for me stole from me, they would lose a hand - or worse.
But for some reason the idea of her stealing from me turns me on.
It makes me want to punish her.
And I know how much she enjoys being punished. I’m sure she still has a handprint on her ass cheek from last night. I smacked her with the full intent of leaving my mark on her body. A sort of territorial thing.
“Misha Blake.” I say as I dial the number of one of my men and wait for him to pick up.
“Sir?” he answers professionally.
“Dante, I need you to go back to the restaurant I was at last night. There is a girl who used to work there - Misha Blake. I want her contact details. Her address. Whatever they have on her.”
“Yes, sir. I will get back to you when I have it.”
I hang up and settle back into the sofa, savoring my coffee and wondering how I should approach her once I find her. I’m going to have to make it exciting for her - she’s not the type of girl who would be interested in an average date request. I’ll have to make her an offer she can’t refuse.
While I sit there watching the sun rise, I think about our night together. She brings out a version of me that I had forgotten existed. A version of me that loved life, enjoyed the hunt, someone who was passionate and wild.
She makes me feel alive. Something I’ve been too busy with work to feel.
But now I’ve handed over most of the business responsibilities to my oldest son, Masaccio - and I have plenty of time on my hands. And plenty of money.
And I want a little pet raven to tame. A petite young thing with pitch black hair and bright green eyes.
My cock throbs at the memory of her.
Mm.
Dante had better find her - sooner than later.
I’m already growing impatient.
By late afternoon, my mood is starting to grow dark. I came to my office to distract myself with work and kill some time - but when Dante arrives to tell me he hasn’t managed to find her - I want to murder someone.
“What do you mean she doesn’t exist? ” I say, as calmly as I can manage. “She was working there last night, she left a good enough impression that the manager, staff and all the customers would never be able to forget her, even if they tried?—”
“Everyone knows who I’m talking about. The girl who threw oil over her boss - they know her. And they all call her Misha Blake - but that’s clearly not her real name.” Dante says defensively.
“She used a fake name?” I ask, shocked and impressed at the same time.
“Yes, sir.” There is only one Misha Blake in this city and she’s still in primary school, so I doubt it’s her. I went to the house myself. The real Misha Blake has red hair and freckles and there was no sign of the girl who’s image I pulled off the security footage.
“Alright.” I smirk. “Then run her image through the database. You have her photo. Find her.”
Dante nods and backs out of my office, keeping his eyes on me until he is out of the door.
He has worked for me long enough to know that I don’t enjoy bad news.
But what he doesn’t realize is that not being able to find her because of her craftiness - it’s not terrible news at all - it’s just become a more interesting game to me.
And it’s made me even more curious about her.
What is she hiding from?
I guess the girl whose first instinct is to throw hot oil over her boss has a few more secrets to uncover.
I lean back in my office chair and fold my arms across my chest.
“Where are you, little raven?” I murmur, narrowing my eyes.
Masaccio walks into my office carrying a folder of paperwork.
“Hey dad, did you take a look at these new shipments? The numbers seem off.”
“Masaccio, you are in charge of that now—” I sigh, trying to wave him away from me.
“I know, I know, just look at it will you. Why are you here anyway? Retirement too boring for you?” He taunts me with a smile.
“It was getting a bit boring until last night. Now I have a new project going on.”
He raises his brows at me.
I shake my head. “Never mind, let me see that.” I say, holding my hand out to take the folder.
He sits in the chair opposite mine, and we start discussing the new shipments. It’s a welcome distraction.
The problem is that these small, short-lived distractions aren’t good enough to keep my mind off of Misha.
As the days roll past, I am getting less and less sleep.
My annoyance is growing worse and the people around me are starting to become wary of my moods.
This game is harder than I thought. I want a challenge - but I want her more than I want the challenge.
It’s been three days since I saw her, and Dante is no closer to finding her than he was on the first day. How can someone be so good at disappearing into thin air?
I can find anyone. Why can’t I find her?
He’s found a list of her aliases.
Misha Black, Misha Snow, Misha Lincoln, Misha Philips - and each place she’s worked at she has managed to cause enough of a scene that they get angry at the mention of her.
The more I find out the more I want to know.
But I’m only diving into her recent past and it’s not leading me any closer to where she is now.
When Celso and Tuomo visit me at the penthouse late one evening, I am in a disgusting mood.
“What’s gotten into you?” Celso dares to ask, and I pick up a glass and throw it at him.
It smashes against the wall behind his head, and he glares at me in shock.
Celso is my youngest and tends to get away a little easier with disobeying me.
It’s because I had a soft spot for his mother - and I have regrets about how it all ended with Amelia.
But today I am not in the mood for anyone’s attitude or snide remarks.
“Get the fuck out.” I snarl at him.
Tuomo is already picking up his things to leave. Celso sneers his lip upward. “Dad?” he says, sounding dejected.
“I’m not interested. Get out.”
The fact that I can’t find her is driving me crazy. I want her.
I have to have her.
My sons leave, closing the door behind themselves and I stand up to pour myself another whisky.