Page 9 of Beautiful Trauma

I shook my head. “I insist.”

After staring intently at me, her shaky hand reached out to take the bill. “Thanks.”

“Get your things,” I instructed.

She dove over to the corner before slinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her phone. Taking her by the arm, I led her to the door. “Go.”

Her eyes locked on mine. A shy smile curved on her ruby red lips. “I wish we hadn’t met like this. You’re perfect.”

And without another word, she raced outside to her car. Once I saw she was safely inside, I turned back to Eamon. “Unfuckingbelievable,” he mused.

“It was my money to give,” I argued.

Shaking his head with a grin, he replied, “I’m talking about her hitting on you despite the fact you’re about to beat the hell out of her Da.”

“It was probably the fact I treated her like a human being.”

“Spare me,” he grunted.

Wagging my brows, I countered, “Maybe you should be taking notes.”

“Like I need tips from you.”

I opened my mouth to argue with him when the back warehouse door swung open, and Lowry poked his head out. “Want to grab a bite, Callie?” he called.

At the sight of us, his face paled. To his credit, he didn’t run. Instead, his gaze spun around the room looking for Callie.

“She’s safe,” I assured him.

Lowry appeared momentarily relieved until I reached inside my coat pocket for my knife. When the silver gleam caught the light, the papers in his hands fluttered to the floor. As he stumbled backwards, he pronounced. “I’ll pay you back.

“It’s too late for that,” Eamon argued.

Jabbing the knife at him, I said, “Be a credit to your daughter by taking your punishment like a man.”

While he might’ve been concerned for Callie’s safety, he wasn’t with being a man because he whirled around and started sprinting through the warehouse.

“That’s gonna fucking cost you!” Eamon shouted as he broke into a run after him.

“Fuck my life,” I grunted before shoving my knife back into my coat pocket and running after the two of them.

CHAPTER TWO: MILA

My stilettos clicked along the tiled floor as I followed behind two hulking movers. As they eased the enormous crate in their arms to the ground, they didn’t bother muting their grunts and groans. After scanning the barcode on the side, the title of the piece and image flashed on the screen, sending a triumphant smile to my face.

“Oh good. We’ve been expecting this one for weeks. I was starting to think it had disappeared.”

The tallest of the two movers bobbed his head while keeping his gaze on the floor. None of the delivery men ever made much eye contact with me. They all knew who I was, or I suppose I should say who my father was. Even if they weren’t Bratva,they’d heard the warnings that any misstep could be taken as disrespect, which wouldn’t end well for them.

After grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he held it out for me to sign. “Thanks again,” I said.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Korolova,” he muttered to the floor.

Without another word, they headed out the door. With the gallery empty, I made my way back to my office. After taking the burner cell phone out of my desk, my fingers flew over the keys before sending a text.

The cow is in the pasture. Ready to go to the market this week. M.

Considering my gallery was in downtown Philadelphia, I obviously wasn’t trafficking livestock. Instead, I was giving a cryptic message to Maksim. After being passed over as heir, one of his jobs within the family was laundering money.