I take a deep breath and walk into the intimate place that serves coffee, tea, and a few tasting plates. The lights are dim, spotlights hanging over each table.
I agreed to this place because of privacy. Other cafes here in Venice are more close together, tables staggered everywhere they'll fit.
These tables may not be far from each other, but they are all in one row along one wall of the small space. And I had asked for us to be at the table at the far end where no one is coming in and out. Even if someone sits at the table behind us, my back will be to them.
They'll get little details, and the illusion of privacy tends to trick people into minding their own fucking business.
I approach the table to see there is a man with a thin laptop sitting there, a thick pair of glasses on him that match his navy blue suit. His look as well as his spiked hair and ankle socks make him look even younger than I am.
"Miss Blanka?" he says with a toothy grin, one that's purely white and straight. Well, he must be good at this to afford a dentist to keep his mouth like that.
"Yes, may I sit?"
"Please." He gestures to the chair across from him, and I sit, taking note that he does not get up to pull it out for me. Not that I should, except that from a financial advisor. But it would be nice for some man to show me that manners like that aren’t totally dead. "So, how may I help you, Miss Blanka?"
I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's like I'm scared he will look at me, somehow figure out what I do for my money, and turn me down. Maybe even out me to this whole cafe. I haven't felt this bad about who I am and what I do in years. I thought I was past this, but Bianchi's treatment of me has reawoken those fears in me. Fears that lead to a sheer hatred of myself I can't live with very longer.
"Well, I'll be honest. I know very little about investing money, but I want to make a lot of money off what I have in savings relatively quickly. I like the idea of financial independence. Being able to own a home and have an adventurous life without having to rely too much on work or on others. A husband." I smile and laugh at that which he returns a brilliant smile to.
"I think that's a good reason to want to speak to someone like me. What I can do is explain your options and help you choose the best for what you’re wanting. But you should know, I can't guarantee anything. There's always a risk."
I nod. "I understand." Truth is, I would rather end up with nothing and on the streets and have tried than sit here and do nothing any more. "Please, show me."
He pulls up some information on his computer and uses a lot of terms about "risk". What my risk is of losing all my money if I put it toward something. But as scary as it looks, the high risk investments look like they make the most the fastest.
"I want to take the risks," I tell him. "I'm sure of it."
"Then, let’s start doing business, Miss Blanka."
Chapter 20
Davide
I have become a useless pile of shit, and I know it. I came back home under the guise of being more involved with the Clans again like I'm supposed to be. But the truth is that all I can do is wallow in my own pain, and it doesn’t matter what and who I try on to make me feel better. the thoughts of the one I let go are taunting me.
It's why I let my security team take over entirely on making sure she's safe. They are watching her and all of my enemies, personal and professional.
And my head of security, Sergio, I can trust him with anything. He does a lot more than just head up security. In truth, he has been running all my Clan business beyond the MMA stadiums, in my stead. He knows it all. Does it all.
He has been around for so long, I don't know how to not let him just take control.
A knock comes at the door, and I catch myself drooling with a mostly empty bottle of tequila next to me like it's some kind of security blanket.
I guess it kind of is right now.
Speaking of the devil, Sergio stands at my door, his uniform making him look slick and handsome. Always the professional. There had been a time once when we had a good thing going, part of my trust for him stemming from that.
We had many threesomes or moresomes together, our hands on each other’s' bodies. We know each other intimately. The difference is he doesn't like traveling and adventure the way I do. He likes sex, of course, but that’s his limit. And he has a partner now, one that is part of my security team so that they can be together even with Sergio’s rigorous schedule.
"Sergio? What do you have for me?"
"I am sorry if I interrupted you, Davide, but there is something urgent you need to know. It's about the woman and the brothel you're having us look out for.
That wakes me up instantly. I sit up and compose myself, reaching for a shirt and slip it on, buttoning it as I stand up to go to Sergio. He has a report in his hand; a security briefing.
I like my paperwork. I like having a trail of what I'm doing in case something goes sour. Without and within the Clans. I don't trust anyone no matter how much they say they are an ally.
It is too short for my liking, especially as I see the most important part of it:
An enemy to the Clans has been visiting the brothel
“What the fuck, Sergio! Get your men to get me all the info they have. I need to know what enemy we’re talking about. I am going to need this internally handled or have to inform Ion depending on who it is. And I can't take this shit to Ion.”
To his credit, Sergio does not react when I crumble the paper and throw it back at him. He allows it to fall to the floor, understanding my temper more than anyone. He leaves it there to pick up later and takes me to the adjoining flat, the one where my security team does most of their work, some even living there full time.
He begins ordering them around in Italian as I relish in the way they begin to work at the speed of light.
"Now, this is more fucking like it." I lean against the wall as I wait for the crucial information, hoping that no one has already connected Blanka and I and put a hit on her or something.
I am often a target in the Clans because of my money. I have far too much for my own good and don't guard it half as well as I should.
"Senor Sergio!" one of the men calls, and we both rush over to see what he has found. He has a full report as well as an image, one that sends a chill right through me. It’s only his back, but that stature, that suit. All of it. It could be no one other than Valentin Volkov.
"Fuck, what does he want with the brothel? He can get private women in his place constantly. He’s up to something."
I start pacing back and forth, my hand rubbing at my neck. I don’t want that fucker anywhere near Blanka, especially if he knows I was involved with her.
The worst part is not knowing what the hell he’s up to.
I have no choice but to give a dangerous order to my men.
"I would not ask this of you if I had a choice, but I need you to find a way to keep tabs on Valentin and his movements. I need a tracker; on him, on his men, on his car. Wherever the fuck you can get it."
Sergio looks at me, and I can tell he is scared. And my men don't get scared. But this is Valentin Volkov, head of the Bratva. There are few things more fearsome on this Earth than that man.
"It’s suicide!" a few of the men call out, which makes me angry at the blatant defiance.
"You do this for the Clans! Not just on my whim. You will fucking find a way, and if you die in the process, you will have the burial of a soldier!"
I leave the room to cool off, dreading the thing I am going to have to do next.
I am gonna have to call Ion. If the Bratva is now involved with this, I feel there is something brewing. Something that none of us wants to turn our backs on. And if I am going to have to fight the head of the Bratva on my turf, then I'm going to have the backup from the king and queen even if I usually prefer to stay away and out of these things.
But this is too much. Too close to Blanka. A woman whose real name I shouldn't even know.
A whore that I allowed myself to get in t
oo deep with.
What a classic fucking tale of woe. But I will not let her become my Juliet, dying for my idiocy.
I give my team an hour to see if they get me anything else to go off of, but nothing comes. It’s probably harder than that, but I am ready to pull my fucking beautiful hair out of my head over this.
I pull out my phone and call Ion, knowing he'll be shocked to hear from me when there's no match going on. We aren't exactly close. We keep conversations to short and sweet over business. I am not one of the ones to go running to him and kissing his feet all the time. I respect his position, but it's almost always irrelevant to me other than keeping him up to date on one of the few legitimate businesses that the Clans has running.
"Davide?" he asks, and I try to keep my voice calm, knowing just having Volkov show up at a brothel isn't going to be enough to convince Ion to step in.
"Ion, I have some news."
"News? About the business?"
"No, not about the business. About a spotting in Venice. One that seems odd timing to me," I say. "I don't want to raise too much alarm, but I do worry about his reasons for being here and if my men will end up in danger because of his closeness."
"Who is it, Davide?" He sounds like he's losing his patience. Ion is all about getting to the point.
"Volkov."
"Valentin is in Venice right now?"
“That's what Sergio has shown me."
"Hmm, that is strange. He has been relatively quiet on our end for a while, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been plotting something. He is always up to something. Well, tell me what information you have if any, and I may send a few of my men your way to help watch him. Just in case."
I open my mouth to tell him when Sergio barges in, more papers in his hand. Even with me on the phone, he still walks toward me, so it has to be important.
My throat drops to my stomach as I tell Ion to hold on, which is probably enough to lose a finger. But oh fucking well.
There is an image, the clearest yet, sent into us. It has Volkov with two women on his arm. Sergio shows me several more, the images showing more and more of the women every time until the last one labels their names.
Galina and Regina.
Fuck.
Volkov is galivanting around Venice, going to the brothel where Blanka worked, with Blanka's fucked up sister Regina and Galina, as in the woman who got away from the Clans once again. The fucking cunt that tried to blow us up twice.
"Thanks, Ion, I will get you what you need." I hang up, hardly caring that it'll come back to bite me in the ass.
Ion can't know that Valentin is with Galina. He'll go after Galina and Valentin both, not caring about innocents. And the problem is that where Regina is, Blanka could be.
Blanka means nothing to the Clans. She wouldn't be spared, especially if it means getting both Galina and Valentin at once.
I need to figure out what to do before I leave this place and fast.
I have to save Blanka. Whatever it takes.
Chapter 21
Davide
"I want you to get me anything and everything you can on Regina Hruska." I hate telling anyone her last name...or her real name at all. I know now that just like Blanka, her sister, Regina, has used a fake name. A name at the brothel, but I get the feeling her name protects her from a lot more than just her reputation as a sex worker, especially if she is hanging around the likes of Valentin Volkov.
That ruthless shit is worse than any Clan member can be accused of, and I don’t need him hanging around my territory or around Prague, where Blanka calls home. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Galina Badescu is involved either. It’s all a conspiracy. Call me paranoid, but in my world, that’s how shit works.
For the next day, as I wait for Sergio and the others to get me what I need, I can't sleep, not without being heavily medicated in the form of vodka and tequila, maybe some sleeping pills in the mix. I admit that I am losing it a little, something I’ve never done over some whore before.
Not that Blanka is just some whore. She never should have landed in that profession. I can’t fathom how no one has come and saved her from this in the first place. She is beautiful, ambitious, sexy...
What the fuck is wrong with me? Not that I am against love or something, but I’ve always been this bachelor. Spontaneity will end the moment I say I do and belong to someone. Babies, bills, decorators, those are the things I fear most. But if there was ever someone I could be with for years at a time and have our own adventure, it would be someone like Blanka.
Eight long days is what it takes to get the information I asked for, and I am beyond disgusted when I look down at the dossier that’s been put together detailing the disgusting life of Jezebel AKA Regina Hruska.
Her behavior is beyond just a life of poverty and an unfortunate addiction to drugs, the only things I knew about her previously from my research in Blanka herself. I don’t know how anyone has lived with her, in her shadow, all these years.
The first incident that made it clear Regina is not a normal person, not someone that should be let loose on society, was when Blanka and Regina were just kids. Twice there are reports from the police that they had to visit the house they grew up in, their chronically ill father and mother with three jobs unable to look after them and left to their own devices. Regina took these devices too far when once she burned some of Blanka’s hair off and another time ordered her to kill a stray dog the two had taken in. When Blanka refused, Regina smashed in one of her fingers with a rock. Blanka had to be taken to the hospital.
Of course, the police in a poor area like where they grew up didn’t do much. they had bigger things to worry about than the antics of children. I wonder if Blanka even remembers these things or if she has purposely blocked them out to protect herself. How can you live with your own sibling torturing you?
Regina is a psychopath, and it gets worse as I uncover several rehab stays where she was let out because of violence against other patients and doctors as well as a stint in a mental institution and even an arrest where she was being charged with the deadly beating of a young man, though she somehow got herself out of that one.
Though, I am beginning to have fewer and fewer doubts that this woman is a monster capable of murder.
What does this mean for Blanka?
Fuck, it’s worse than I even imagined, and I don’t have a choice but to step in. Everything I did to push her away and give her a better life means nothing if she is going to be captured, used, or killed by Regina and Valentin Volkov.
No, I won’t let that come to be.
But what it means is I have to go find her and save her. I have to find where she’s settled down with her freedom and go to her, uprooting her from the very life I gifted her by letting her go.
I run my hands through my hair as I sink into my chair in my office, wondering how I am going to do this. Not only do I have to convince her to take me back into her life after leaving her high and dry with no sign or note as to why, but I also have to convince myself.
I have to convince myself that I don’t have to be a bachelor to be happy and have fun.
I don’t have to be afraid to be the person by Blanka’s side forever. because, make no mistake, the only thing that is going to bring her under the protection of both me and the Clans officially is by become Mrs. Lupei.
I have to find Blanka and get her to marry me.
I will take it one day, one moment, at a time until we make it down the aisle. I can manage it like that.
I call Sergio back into my room, and he looks at me curiously as I begin organizing all my papers and closing up my bottles of alcohol. "I am going to start packing. I am going to go back to Prague and see if I can find Blanka. She is going to need protection. I need you to handle things here and turn away any calls from Ion until I give you the go ahead to tell them what we know about Regina and Galina being with Valentin," I order.
This is one of those times I have to count on Sergio’s
loyalty to me in hopes he won’t tell on me here. He was hired by me, not the Clans, but the Clans could be his death just the same.
"Yes, sir. I will handle things. Don’t worry."
Chapter 22
Blanka/Belladonna
I'll admit, as I lay on my bed in my sweatpants and big tee that’s seen one too many washes, I am wallowing a bit. I know this, but everyone deserves that one time or another. I just don’t understand how I got here to this point.
Surely, I didn’t fall in love with one of my clients. I know better, and I was even warned about Davide. So, why is my body reacting as if I’ve had some big breakup? Like I’m some little girl whose boyfriend has dumped her?
It has to be Bianchi and the way she’s treated me ever since Davide has left me high and dry. I barely get any days off as she throws me at any man that comes along and wants a quick fuck. I haven’t had any of the good looking ones since, and I am hoping I will be able to earn her trust back soon, or I am going to go crazy just stuck in this same wheel of life, being a played with whore and nothing more.
I keep hoping that my investments will work, and I'll suddenly hit it big. That I can flip this place the fuck off along with Bianchi and never have to let anyone touch my body again unless I want it.
I'll finally be the star of my own life.
A pillow hits me hard, and I grunt incoherently at whoever it is. I expect it to be Raquel, maybe just coming in for her two weeks off. But then I hear my sister’s voice.
"Fuck, bitch, you're getting to be a nuda, stick in the mud. If you don’t start getting up and taking care of yourself, you'll never get any good clients again."
I roll over, holding myself up on my elbows as I glare at her, sizing her up.
She’s dressed like a slut, which I guess is fine considering where we are.
She has on boots with a huge heel on them, a leopard mini with a split in it that leaves nothing to the imagination, and a black bra covered by a half mesh top.
"You going to meet a client like that?"
Venomous (The Clans Book 11) Page 10