“Where is my little Blackheart?!” Comes my grandfather’s deep but silky voice, and my face breaks out into a huge grin as he enters the room. “Grandpa!” I shout and leap at him. He catches me in his strong arms and holds me to him as he chuckles, “Did you get more tattoos? There won’t be any unmarked skin left soon,” he teases. “Very funny,” I say, kissing his cheek. Gosh, I haven’t seen Grandpa Titus in months. I’ve missed him like crazy. I’m telling you my family doesn’t age. Grandpa Titus is the definition of a silver fox. He’s 6’3” and at the age of seventy-nine is still as buff and muscular as my dad. He has some crow’s feet around his blueish-grey eyes and some wrinkling on his forehead, but besides that, his skin doesn’t show much sign of aging, except maybe his hands. He has shoulder-length wavey salt-and-pepper hair and a short salt-and-pepper beard with a moustache. His long-pointed nose is slightly crooked due to breaking it so many times, but it just makes him look tou
My peaceful sleep is disrupted by a sharp sting across my backside and the sound of skin meeting skin. What the fuck? “Up you get,” comes my dad’s voice. Is he freaking kidding me? I’m on holiday. Since I’m lying face down I ignore him and pull my pillow over my head and attempt to go back to sleep. “It’s time to get up and train, let’s go,” he commands. “Fuck off,” I mumble tiredly. I just want to go back to sleep. “What did you just say to me?” My dad asks in a menacing tone, but I don’t even flinch. I just shift my hand to rest on top of the pillow on top of my head and give him the finger. “ALINA ISTRATI GET THE FUCK OUT OF THAT BED RIGHT NOW!” My dad yells in a deadly voice. If we had neighbours that would have woken them up. I still continue to ignore him hoping he’ll go away, but no such luck. Suddenly I feel air and the wind is knocked out of me a little when my body connects with something solid. I open my eyes and they lock with my dad’s back. He has me slung over his s
Walking back into my room I give myself a quick stretch, trying to loosen up all the muscles I worked out fighting with my dad. Just looking at me this is not what you’d expect my room to look like. I won’t lie, opulent is a good word to describe my bedroom. It’s massive. A wall sections off a third of the room and the floor is mostly tan wood, but under the bed is a gorgeous champagne-coloured carpet. A king-size bed against the sectioning wall with sheets of gold and beige facing two full-length windows. Brown nightstands flank the bed adorned with touch lamps and a large white storage ottoman sits at the foot of the bed. I have all the basics one would need. Chest of drawers, a sofa, coffee table, mirror, and 52” plasma TV. In the corner by the door I even have a small office area. A stunning desk and chair face the centre of the room, but the part of the room that truly screams opulence is the stunning crystal blue and gold chandelier. On the left side of the sectioning wall is m
Pulling up to Il Segreto, I pull down my visor and check my makeup. When it comes to meetings I always dress to impress. Impress myself that is. It would be stupid to show up at one of the best restaurants in the city in attire that screams ‘I’m here to kill someone’, so dressing for the occasion is important. Tonight I’ve gone for the vamp look. Plum smokey eye with defined wings and deep plum lipstick. It compliments my pale skin and makes my green eyes pop. My hair is neatly back in a chignon, and I’ve dressed in a red full-sleeve mermaid evening gown with an open back. The dress is skin-tight, and I love how the fabric just flows out like water from the knees. Aside from my back, I’m completely covered. Sometimes having all the tattoos tucked away makes more of a statement than having them on display. I grab my black clutch purse and step out of the car being mindful to not get my black suede pointy-toe stilettos caught in my dress. I hand the keys to my black Jaguar XJ to the va
I make my way to the back of the restaurant and up a staircase that leads to a private dining room that resides on the top floor of the restaurant. Stepping inside the room is rather dark, almost intimate. An entirely black room with small white and gold marble tables mirroring each other on either side of the room, with each holding a large black vase filled with birds of paradise and orange orchids that give a pop of colour to this dark room. The lighting is very minimal and strategically placed. It’s placed in a manner so that it’s easy to see all the features of my guest who will sit opposite me, whereas my features will be somewhat obscured by shadow. I’m not trying to be invisible, but it does intimidate people and make it a little harder to remember someone’s features when they aren’t on full display. Sitting in the middle of the room is a single round table with a black cloth over it with gold trimming. The table is set for two and my guest is already seated waiting for me wit
I’m awoken by the irritating sound of my alarm. I reach over hitting the snooze button with more force than is necessary as if I’m taking out a vendetta on the alarm. Which in a way, I am. I hate alarms. They are unnatural. We should wake up when our body is ready to and no sooner, but I have work to do. Forcing myself to sit up I give myself a good stretch waking my muscles up.My New York apartment is pretty basic, far more on the simplistic side compared to my home in Moldova. My bedroom just consists of an emerald satin king-size bed, navy blue walls, one black nightstand, a floor-to-ceiling window hidden by a forest green curtain and a simple black double-door wardrobe.Getting up I step out and walk past the laundry and straight into my bathroom. I take off my nightshirt and slip into the shower turning the water to warm. Today I start looking into everything I need and don’t need to know about Alec Lowell and even Peyton Grigoras. It’s going to be tedious but necessary, so I ne
Yesterday’s research was useless and maddening. Sure, everything was detailed but nothing interesting stood out and when dealing with two criminals, trust me when I say, there are always some interesting secrets or skeletons to be found. But these guys had none, which I find suspicious. So today I’ve decided to go right to the source. I’m sitting in my car outside Lowell’s apartment building waiting for him to come out. I just need him to leave for a few minutes so I can go in and have a look around. I’m sitting in my car for two boring hours when thankfully I see him step out of the building. I was worried I’d have to sit here for a day or two waiting. Even from across the street and through tinted windows this man looks delicious. He’s 6’3” - so he’d tower over me - he’s wearing a grey sweatshirt with a hoodie; navy blue jeans and sneakers and his eyes are glued to his phone. Nothing about him screams criminal and something about his posture seems… anxious? Even though he’s covered
It’s been three weeks of watching Lowell’s every move and it only proceeded to get more boring, so I decided to move up my timeline. Aside from occasionally ordering-in food, nothing in Lowell’s routine has changed. So, armed with the information Mikhail acquired for me, plus everything I learned from tailing this guy – which isn’t much – and the observations I’ve made from monitoring the person tailing me, I’ve decided to strike tonight instead of a week from now. Nothing was going to change between here and then and while in any other case, I wouldn’t speed things up, I know this situation calls for it. With Crimson already strapped to my ankle holster hidden by my denim jeans, I pull my gun from my glove compartment, check it, slip it behind me in the waistband of my pants and pull my black leather jacket over it. I zip up my jacket and adjust my sherpa collar and get out as soon as I see Alec exiting his apartment. It’s busier the closer he gets to the restaurant, so I plan to ma