Page 33 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

So unfortunately, my digging’s gotten me nowhere.

My mind races through possibilities to get answers.

The meeting request was unexpected but makes sense considering the fact that my uncle just died. It probably has something to do with that. Not that I was contacted when Dad and Elena died under suspicious circumstances, so hopefully this meeting will give me some clarity and direction about what the heck I should do next.

My lips press into a tight line as my memory trips back to the hot Murphy brother I skipped out on. I still have the businesscard I lifted off him. Weird that the guy had nothing else but that on him. And he doesn’t strike me as careless or messy.

Gritting my teeth, I kick through the shredded clothes, looking for something to wear. This disaster area is probably the work of Iosif. I pull out my phone and stab his number onto the screen, then sort clothes into piles of things I can wear and things I need to toss while I wait for him to answer.

My wearable pile is piteously small, but it’s bigger than I first thought.

It does zero to placate my anger.

Romanov picks up. “Ava?—”

“Keep the fuck out of my life, Iosif!” I spit.

“Is that any way to speak to your future father-in-law? Leonid will be here in a few days, and when you marry him, you can see little Tatiana. I’ve booked the wedding for this coming Friday. Nine a.m.”

My stomach knots as acid surges in my throat. “I don’t want?—”

“I don’t care what you want. I let you have freedom as long as you didn’t do anything stupid like steal the crest. Your uncle’s been dead for a week. Show some respect.”

“I barely even knew him.” The conversation spirals, and my pulse keeps leaping as greasy waves of nausea rock me.

“Family, Ava. Respect?—”

“The way you respected me?” I clutch the gun. I don’t care that it’s a Murphy gun. It makes me feel better. Protected. “Breaking in, wrecking my apartment?—”

“Ava,” he says, cutting through my rant. “Maybe you should come here. You shouldn’t be on your own.”

I let out a snort. “That’s what you want?—”

“I don’t carry out cowardly acts. You just told me someone broke into your place. So we should err on the side of caution. I’ll send a car. With Volkov leadership unclaimed, someone mightwant all heirs gone to pave the way for a new leader. I can protect you. I can?—”

I hang up.

Protect me. He’s so full of shit.

My heart’s in my throat as I paw through my closet, finding some salvageable things. I grab my backup hard drive—my laptop is smashed on the floor. Luckily, there’s nothing on it, just photos, and they’re saved on the drive and in the cloud.

I throw everything into a bag, and then I get the hell out.

I need to get to Launceston Law offices, and then I need a plan of action.

One that doesn’t involve marrying Leonid Romanov.

James Launceston, Dad’s lawyer, stares at me from behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“Don’t,” I say, “ask.”

I shift under his curious gaze, dressed in a femme fatale-style suit in red, the only respectable-type outfit I could find in the apartment mess. I paired it with a black patent leather handbag that I found buried in the back of my closet. Before heading to the law office, I stored my big bucket bag in a storage locker near Penn Station. It has everything from my apartment that wasn’t completely destroyed, including the gun and some clothes.

He holds up his hands. “First, condolences on your uncle’s passing, but this meeting is regarding your father’s will. Right now, Volkov Shipping doesn’t have a president. Non-family members can petition in a year to take that position if there are no family members available to take over. It’s my duty to let you know since you’re not twenty-five years old yet, you can takecontrol for that yearifyou’re married, and your husband can run it with your help. If you do marry, you have two weeks to do so.”

I grip the arms of the chair.

Two weeks?