I shook my head. Funny prick, he was. All of us were silent for a moment.
“What’s happening with the prostitution rings?” I asked Artur. Alberto had been running such establishments, which were different from mine in that he had a heartless approach to his commodities. “I will not have women being abused in those brothels,” I added. “They are there because they have chosen to make a living that way, but I will not stand aside and watch them being abused.”
“There’s no way we can control that,” Artur said. “We don’t even own the brothels.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck if I own them or not? I don’t care how you do it, but it needs to be stopped. Understood?”
He immediately backed down. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“We’re good, Alessio,” Viktor said. “We need to get this shit moving. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on everyone and make sure nothing gets out of control. I’ve got your back.”
Viktor was a man of few words, but his silence was not a weakness. When he said he had my back, I knew I could trust him.
If anyone could be more ruthless than me, it was Viktor. All my men were vicious—the five of us against the rest of the world.
“We’re done then,” I said, pushing my chair away and standing up. I fixed my suit and moved toward the doors, but Artur’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Boss, there’s something I don’t understand. Why did you let Ayla go? We have no proof she isn’t the spy.”
“Shut up, Artur,” Nikolay warned, but it was too late. I swiveled around and lunged for Artur, clutching at his throat and pushing him hard against the wall.
“You fucking dare question my decision?” I roared, squeezing on his windpipe until his face began to turn purple. His eyes rolled back in his head but I didn’t let go. Viktor pulled me off before I could kill him.
However, that hadn’t been my intention. Not yet. I wanted to warn him—for now.
Phoenix helped Artur stand, and the poor bastard was struggling to breathe, his gasps filling the room.
“S…S…Sorry…” Artur said, his hand clutching his throat.
“Ayla is no longer a suspect,” I said, my fists tightening. Actually, she still was, but they didn’t need to know that.
Torturing her wasn’t the best way to get the truth out. There were other ways to find the truth, but I would explore that alone.
I gave them a final glare and left my office, shutting the door loudly.
I tried to calm my breathing. Artur had gotten me riled up, but his question wasn’t the only source of my anger.
I was trying not to think about Ayla. But then he went and said her name. Fuck. I was losing it again. A fucking woman was making me lose my shit.
What was it about her?
When I let her go the night before, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Black shiny hair. Green eyes glistening with tears as she screamed her innocence. Oh, how badly I wanted to believe her.
She had me tied in knots and I fucking hated it.
My mind went back to the scene in her bedroom. She had been shocked at my change of character. Hell, I was shocked too.
Her vulnerability called to me, and surprisingly I had a desire to protect her. When I saw her in pain, my chest ached.
Lost in thought, I walked past the kitchen, but Lena’s voice snapped me back the present and I stopped.
“I hope he makes them all pay. They deserve to die, every last one of them.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion and I stepped closer, standing right outside the entrance of the kitchen. Ayla was there, sitting beside Lena at the bar.
I was about to take a step forward but stopped when she quickly jumped off the stool. Her tiny body shook violently and her face was red and puffy from crying.
She swiveled around and tried to run out of the kitchen, but I was in the way. She hit my chest and bounced back, then stumbled over her feet and I quickly reached out to catch her.
She was gasping for breath, her chest heaving.
Ayla trembled in my arms and brought her head up, her eyes meeting mine. Her breath hitched in surprise. She went still in my arms, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she held her breath.
As I stared into her eyes, I could tell she was petrified. My hands tightened on her arms and she gasped, cowering in fear.
“I…” She sucked in a deep breath, but started coughing. Her hands went up to her neck and she rubbed furiously. “I…I can’t…breathe…” She was having a panic attack, and struggled out of my arms. I let her go. She stumbled back and then ran past me.
I glanced in the kitchen, where Lena and Maddie were giving me worried looks. I didn’t wait for an explanation. Turning around, I ran after the frightened kitten, and saw her running for the back door, which led to the garden. She rushed outside. I slowed to a walk and followed her.
Squinting at the bright sunlight, I found Ayla sitting on the top of the hill, huddling under a tree.
I gave her a few minutes by herself and then made my way toward her. She hugged her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around them tightly, her face buried between them.
When I got closer, she tensed. Rolling my eyes with a sigh, I sat down on the grass beside her shaking body. She was slowly coming down from her attack.
I didn’t know why I followed her, and I sure as hell didn’t know why I sat down beside her. For some strange reasons, my heart ached at her pain. I wanted to offer comfort.
I rubbed my face tiredly. This girl. I closed my eyes tightly and pinched the tip of my nose in frustration. She was messing with my head.
I heard her sobbing quietly, but eventually she quieted down. “Why did you follow me?” she asked, her voice scratchy.
“You’re crying.” My voice came out hard, so I quickly cleared my throat and attempted to soften my tone. “Why are you crying?” I tried to sound gentle, but I sounded demanding instead.
Way to go, Alessio. Great way to get her to open up.
“That wasn’t an answer,” she replied, her voice barely audible. I was sure she didn’t mean for me to hear it, but I did.
I bristled slightly at her tone but took a deep breath, not wanting to sound harsh. This wasn’t the time to scare her.
“Well, that’s the only answer you’re getting,” I said, turning to my side to face her. I didn’t have any other answer for her.
Ayla lifted her head slightly and placed her chin on her arms, looking me straight in the eyes. “Lena told me about your mother.”
I was taken aback—shocked. Ayla noticed, and bit on her lip nervously.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes again.
Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, I shrugged. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But I’m sorry for your loss.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
I followed the single drop as it trailed down her rosy cheek. I felt my heart stutter at her admission. She was sorry for me. She was crying for my loss.
I stared at her, filled with confusion. Who was this girl? And what was she doing to me?