Page 19 of With this Ring (Mastered #7)

On the outskirts of Denver, Sasha’s phone rang.

After checking the display, she glanced over at Gregorio. “It’s Brenda Santos.”

The look he shot her said everything. Interesting. After all, they had an appointment scheduled for tomorrow.

She swiped to answer, but before she could give her name, Mrs. Santos was speaking, her voice shaking with barely contained panic. “Sasha, thank God I reached you.”

“Mrs. Santos. How can I help you?”

“Felix just told me he’s taking a trip. He wouldn’t say where or when he’d be back. I’m afraid he’s with her.”

Sasha’s chest tightened at the barely contained panic in the woman’s voice.

As he navigated the growing I-25 traffic, Gregorio shot her a glance and a nod. No longer surprising her, he seemed to read her mind.

“Would you like me to come over?” she asked her client.

“Yes.” Brenda gave a shaky exhalation. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Just stay calm. We’ll figure it all out together. Can you do that for me?” Her compassion battled with her professionalism.

“I’m losing my mind, Sasha.” Brenda’s voice cracked.

“I’m not far away. I promise.”

“Will you hurry? Please?”

“As quick as I can.”

“Thank you.”

Then, before she could change her mind, she said, “I have an associate with me.”

Across the compartment of the SUV, Gregorio scowled at her, and she changed her focus to stare out of the side window.

“I suppose that’s okay.”

“Good. I’ll see you in less than twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.” Brenda choked back a sob. “I’ll let the gate guard know you’re coming.”

As the call ended, Gregorio’s eyebrow lifted. “Associate?”

“What would you like me to say?” Lover? The man who my sister divorced?

Someone who made me scream his name last night?

A Dominant who had a finger up my ass and made me admit I liked it.

The crush I’ve never gotten over? Instead of answering, she sighed and asked, “Do you mind meeting her? You don’t have to. ”

“Petal, try keeping me in the car.”

His tone held the weight of a vow, reminding her that this dangerous, compelling man had appointed himself her protector whether she wanted one or not. To cover her reaction, she kept the conversation focused on business. “Maybe you’ll catch something I miss.”

He didn’t respond to that.

She looked up the address and gave it to him, and he told his onboard system to redirect them.

They parked around the block and walked the rest of the way.

Mrs. Santos greeted them at the door of her sprawling home, a Tudor-style mansion.

“Come in. Come in.” Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. She wrung her hands nervously, her wedding ring catching the sunlight and throwing prisms against the wall.

Her gaze darting to the driveway, she stepped aside.

“This is Gregorio,” Sasha introduced once the door was closed behind them. “The, uhm, associate I was mentioning.”

“Ma’am.” His voice was pitched low and reassuring, though Sasha caught the underlying steel.

“Please, call me Brenda.” She tried to force a smile that came out more of a grimace.

“Brenda.”

He gave the woman a kind smile, something Sasha had never experienced from him.

In response, Brenda blinked several times. Then with a sigh, her shoulders rounded once more, and she led them toward the back of the house to the kitchen.

The last time Sasha had been here, the place had been immaculate.

Today, the space was a bit messy, with several pairs of shoes left in a pile near the foyer, and a stack of unopened mail piled on the console table.

A throw blanket was on the floor near a sofa, and the scent of burned coffee lingered in the air.

“Thank you for coming.” Her voice wavered, threatening to crack. “I’m sorry I had to call you, but I don’t know what’s happening with him anymore.” She dropped down into a chair, and they followed suit. Two different coffee cups had been abandoned, half-full.

“He’s never been like this before,” she went on. “Secretive. Argumentative. And then buying me stuff I don’t need…that vehicle, flowers, jewelry. He has to be feeling guilty about something.” The words tumbled out, as if she’d been holding them back for too long.

“We’ll do everything we can to help,” Sasha assured her. “Tell me what happened. Step by step.”

Beneath the table, Brenda knitted her hands together.

“We were supposed to go out to dinner with friends tonight. But this morning, he started throwing his belongings into a bag.” Desperately, Mrs. Santos tried to blink her emotions away.

“He’s never packed his own suitcase. Not once in all these years.

” A tear finally fell. “Then he said he had to leave town. And he didn’t say when he’d be back. ”

“Or where he was going?”

Mrs. Santos shook her head. “Oh, Sasha. I’m so scared.”

Gently, she reached forward to touch the woman’s hand. “I know you need answers, and I can tell you this…” She glanced toward Gregorio, who gave her a small nod. “I’ve had surveillance on Mr. Santos.”

The woman straightened her back, and her eyes were wide, unblinking, like a rabbit caught in headlights, as if she was bracing herself for what Sasha might say.

“I have found no evidence that he is having any kind of affair.”

Her breath caught on a sob. “Really?”

Sasha nodded. “Now that doesn’t guarantee that he’s not, but what I’ve found so far suggests something else is going on.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sighed.

After processing the information, she looked at Sasha again. “Then…? I don’t understand.”

“Do you want to know what I have found?”

“Yes.” She curled her hands around one of the abandoned cups and dragged it close. “I have to.”

“I’m happy to tell you everything, but first, would it be okay if we took a look in Felix’s office?”

“Why do you need to do that?” She hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know what you think you’ll find.”

“I’m not sure, either,” Sasha admitted. “Hopefully something that will help make more sense out of all of this so I can totally put your mind at ease.” With the way he’d been giving his wife an SUV and jewelry, she doubted that. But she wanted answers herself.

Mrs. Santos twisted her wedding ring. “I suppose that would be okay.” With a trembling hand, she gestured toward the hallway. “It’s the third door on the left.”

“Thank you.” Sasha squared her shoulders, hyperaware of Gregorio’s solid presence at her back as they stood and made their way down the hall.

Felix’s office was exactly what she’d expected—rich mahogany furniture, leather-bound books lining built-in shelves. But the meticulous precision of the space set off warning bells. Every pen was aligned, every paper perfectly stacked. It wasn’t just tidy—it was obsessively perfect.

With his elbow, Gregorio closed the door behind them. Then he pulled a pair of latex gloves from inside his jacket pocket and locked the door.

“I’ll start with the desk,” she said.

“I’ve got the bookcase.”

She donned a pair of gloves that she kept in her purse.

The first two drawers yielded nothing but ordinary office supplies, arranged with the same level of organization as everything else.

When she reached the third, she brushed against an inconsistency in the wood. “I may have something.”

Gregorio joined her.

She pulled out the drawer and carefully pried up the false bottom, revealing a sleek black ledger bound in leather. “Bingo.”

After flicking a glance toward the door, just in case, she flipped open the cover.

The pages were filled with small, meticulous handwriting—columns of numbers, dates, and coded entries. Some names she recognized as businesses that Santos ran. And others she recalled from an investigation at Hawkeye.

But one word stopped her cold.

Jesus. “Gregorio,” she said softly, beckoning him over.

Instantly, he was beside her, leaning over her shoulder, reassuring, protective.

He swore in a language she didn’t recognize. “Argentum?”

To the rest of the world, the company was a philanthropic one. But she knew better, as did Gregorio.

They were organized crime, with enforcement arms all over the world.

What the hell was Santos up to?

The ledger was more than evidence—it was a roadmap of Felix Santos’ secrets, and possibly a death warrant for anyone who found it.

Her mouth dried, and she met Gregorio’s gaze.

How much danger was Santos in? And did this have anything to do with who was stalking her?

“May I?”

“Go ahead.” She stepped aside.

While Gregorio flipped through the ledger, she dug out her cell phone.

“Good idea.” He placed the book down on the desk, and she began snapping pictures of each page.

“Sasha?” Mrs. Santos called, trying the door.

Shit.

“I’ll take care of her,” Gregorio said.

At that moment, she appreciated having him with her.

While he unlocked the door and opened it a crack, she replaced the leather-bound book and slid the panel back into place.

“What’s taking so long?” Mrs. Santos asked.

“Being thorough. You don’t happen to have coffee, do you?” he asked. Charm was laced through his rich baritone. “Sasha was anxious to get over here to see you, so she didn’t let me stop for a cup. Can’t function without my caffeine.”

“I…”

She imagined the woman trying to peek past him. But she might as well be trying to see around a mountain.

“Of course,” Mrs. Santos said eventually.

After sliding the drawer closed, she did another quick sweep of the bookcases before removing her gloves and pocketing them alongside her phone.

Then she returned to the kitchen.

A fresh pot of coffee was spitting and hissing, and she smiled at her client.

“Black or cream?” Mrs. Santos asked, her voice wavering slightly as she reached for mugs.

“Black for me,” Gregorio replied. The way he handled the situation—redirecting Mrs. Santos’ attention while giving Sasha time to process what they’d found—showcased his tactical expertise.

“And you, Sasha?”

“Cream. Thanks.” Trying to appear calm, she took a seat at the table, across from Gregorio.

The Argentum connection stunned her. If Felix Santos was involved with them, his sudden departure might have taken on a much darker meaning. Was he running from them? Or carrying out some kind of assignment?

Mrs. Santos’ hand trembled as she set a mug in front of Gregorio a couple of minutes later.

Then Sasha accepted hers.

“You think something’s wrong, don’t you?”

“I think your husband may be in over his head with some business dealings,” Sasha said diplomatically.

“Business dealings?” Brenda sank into her chair and curled her hands around her earlier, abandoned cup.

“He’s been having a lot of meetings. Sometimes late at night.

It’s not unusual for him to get home after midnight, with the restaurants and nightclubs, but he never used to get out of bed to answer phone calls. ”

“Has your husband mentioned any new business partners recently?” Gregorio asked. “Or received any unusual phone calls?”

Mrs. Santos twisted her wedding ring. “He’s been taking a lot of calls in Spanish lately. And there was a man who came by the house last week—I’d never seen him before. Felix seemed…afraid of him.”

Sasha and Gregorio exchanged quick glances.

Gregorio leaned forward, and when he spoke, his words were gentle. “Can you describe him for me?”

“Do you think it’s important?”

“Just following up on everything,” he assured her.

As Mrs. Santos gave a brief description, Gregorio paid close attention. But like before, he didn’t take notes.

“Anything else at all that seems odd?” Sasha asked.

“As I’ve already mentioned, the gifts.” For a moment, she stared ahead vacantly. “We’ve always been careful with money. We do well enough, but…” She gestured vaguely at the luxurious house around them. “This was a gift from my family. Felix has always been sensitive about that.”

“I’d like to increase surveillance on your husband,” Sasha said carefully. “With your permission, of course.”

“Is that really necessary?”

She chose her words with care. “The more we know, the better we can help. You. And maybe your husband.”

As if it were a lifeline, Mrs. Santos pulled her cup closer to her.

“Maybe I’m overreacting.”

Definitely not. “No,” Sasha assured her. “Your instincts that something is wrong are valid. But let me do my job and investigate properly before we jump to conclusions.”

Sasha’s phone buzzed. “Excuse me.” She glanced at the screen, expecting another update from Ashley or perhaps a notification about Hawkeye’s security team.

Mind your own business. Or the old woman dies.

The phone nearly slipped from her fingers, and Gregorio reached across the table to grab the device.

Outside, a car door slammed.

Mrs. Santos paled and jumped up. “That’s Felix’s car.”