Broken Queen

Page 39

“She’s gone through hell. You should know that.”
Now I’m curious. “Go on.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t divulge details, but I hope to appeal to your humanity.”
“Now you insult me.”
“This isn’t a game. I don’t like you. I don’t like what you’ve managed to do.”
“I don’t care.”
“Just don’t hurt her. She doesn’t deserve it.” He says it with such an authentic tone, with such a look in his eyes that it catches me off guard, and I find I don’t have a comeback.
“She’ll be fine. It’s not her I intend to punish.”
“Good. Because if something were to happen to her, if she were hurt or worse, I would go to the authorities.”
I grin. “How lucky the Russos are to have such a devoted lawyer working for them. Happen to know where Lucien Russo is?”
“No,” he answers too quickly. Getting up, he walks to the printer set behind his desk and picks up the sheet lying there. He sets it on his desk and signs it, then hands it to me. “My resignation. I won’t work with criminals.”
I look at it and snort. “Who do you think you’ve been working with?”
“I’ve already named my temporary replacement until you find someone more suitable for your needs. I won’t wish you luck, Mr. Caballero.” With that, he buttons his jacket, and walks out of the office.
“Asshole,” Bastian says.
Irritated, I toss the letter aside and take out my phone. I send a text to Dominic’s man, the one in charge of the soldiers he’s put at our disposal while we’re here. He’s in the lobby and responds immediately when I tell him to have someone follow Brady.
“What was that?” Bastian asks when I tuck the phone away.
“I put a tail on him. I don’t trust him. Let’s go. We have shit to do.”
He nods. We head out to the elevators and out of the building to our SUV and drive together to the penthouse, which is only about a fifteen-minute ride. Lucien Russo lived here up until just a few days ago. The doorman, who has been alerted to our arrival, shows us to the elevator. Bastian and I ride to the top.
The building is beautiful, as I’d expect, and when the doors open onto the penthouse, I’m not surprised at its opulence. The large space boasts floor-to-ceiling windows with incredible views over the city. With an open floor plan, the kitchen, dining, and living rooms are one big open space and off three separate corridors are what I assume are bedrooms. Bruno is sitting on the extra-long chesterfield. He stands when we enter.
“Not bad, huh?” he asks as I take it in.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less. Any word on Lucien’s whereabouts?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Bastian walks over from the kitchen biting into an apple. “Where’s Vittoria?”
Bruno gestures down one of the corridors to the slightly open door. “She grabbed a few things mostly for the little girl. I checked the bag. It’s just books and toys.”
“We’ll need to leave in a few minutes.”
Bastian and I walk toward the room Bruno pointed at and find Vittoria sitting behind the large desk studying a photo. When she shifts her eyes to us, they’re sad.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She shrugs a shoulder and stands, tucking the photo, frame and all, into her tote. “Are you going to sell it?”
“Not yet. Anything missing?”