Vanquished (The Encounter #3)(44)
Beno?t remained unmoving. “It’s in regard to Miss Callas. He said that maybe you could save her from the Russians.”
My ears immediately perked up at the mention of Russians. What in Hades did the blasted f*ck know about any of this?
“Bring the impotent cretin in. I’d love to have words with him,” I harshly commanded, already fuming deep within, and Beno?t left to fetch the bastard. If the bloody oligarch had contacted him, it would be no wonder he had brought a damn pistol to see Isobel. He had to be desperate and surely at his wits end to consider such an incomprehensible deal with humanity’s worst kind.
Constantin Callas entered my library, looking like the ultimate rubbish that he truly was. What a sad, pathetic man, scrounging money from whomever, and once all resources were dried up, he resorted to his daughter. Well, that truly stopped this time around. He was done milking his connection with his daughter. I was going to make sure of that.
The moment I set eyes on the pathetic, foolish sod, I had to harness the violent storm inside of me to even look him straight in the eye without wanting to knock him back. “You have five minutes to explain yourself fully, Callas. And don’t give me the runaround stupidity you usually go for, or your body will be dumped somewhere in the Mediterranean.” As threats went, I usually didn’t go in for the kill, but my levelheadedness had vanished. To be quite frank, I would personally bag his dead body and dump it in the sea if need be. I doubted anyone would miss the bastard, anyhow. He was better off dead. Killing this man wouldn’t be such a hardship. I would do anything for Isobel and my unborn twins. Anything.
“I have information that might interest you, but you must pay me two million Euros, or Isobel’s life might be in danger,” the cretin said in a dispassionate tone, eyeing me as if I was an ATM machine.
After what he had pulled off at Julien’s home, I could have smashed his head to the ground. It was best to stay seated as I dealt with him, because I didn’t trust myself not to pursue that appealing idea.
Grinding my teeth together, I took a hefty breath and eyed him with scorn. “You’re the one who’s endangering her by f*cking around with a gun in your hand!” There went my cool demeanor. Well, at least I hadn’t killed the bastard. Even though he was filth, Isobel would surely hate me forever if I did her such a favor, or the world a favor for that matter.
Constantin gave out a short, disgusting laugh before getting back to business. “That might be so. I could’ve shot her then, too, but I figured out that you might be willing to pay double, because I believe you’re in love with that bitch, so I’m taking chances by coming to you.”
He thought himself a genius, believing I would give him double the asking price he had stated at Julien’s house. Well, hell. He was in for some reality.
“What makes you think I’d be interested?”
Constantin smirked, as if the question amused him to no end. “Because someone just posted a million Euro bounty on your girl, Hugo; that’s f*cking why.”
Everything became suspended. My detached demeanor began to slip the second he finished saying the word “bounty.” Who in God’s name would dare do such an atrocious thing? A million Euros was a lot. No poor bloke would be able to afford it. And if it were the Russian oligarch, he would have his men do it without the bounty attached. So what in the bloody f*cking hell was going on? Constantin was pulling my leg.
“You’re bluffing,” I uttered, wanting to throttle him for his despicable lies. He was spewing more on his bullshit train. No. I wasn’t going to be swayed by this useless information he was trying to hold for ransom.
He shrugged. “No, I daresay I am not this time. Let’s just say this stemmed from bad blood, a rival from Eastern Europe to put it lightly and into perspective here. So are you willing to dish the millions or not? Because I need the money. If you aren’t, I might have other people who might be interested to know where the princess is hiding.”
“You always need money, you pathetic beggar!” Each time I saw him, it always entailed money. He would sacrifice anything for monetary gain. That was just it. It didn’t matter how he achieved it. And since the “traditional” route, if one could even call it that, was out, the rake had gone black market to provide for his sickening addiction.
He barely grimaced at my insult yet remained on his pointless stance. “Two million Euros. The price is not negotiable.”
“All right. We have a deal.” As much as it would give me pleasure to throw this rubbish out of my home, I couldn’t take such a risk knowing the blasted fool could be saying the truth. It was just too risky to play Russian roulette with so many lives involved. “Your money will be wired within the next few hours. Leave your information with the head of my security on your way out.”
“Isobel isn’t my daughter. Just after we got married, her mother had a fling and got pregnant by some powerful Russian man who was in Athens for business. His name is Benedikt Romanov.”
My blood ran cold. That name had plagued me for years. The bastard who had been shadowing my life, Benedikt Romanov, was Isobel’s, the woman who was carrying my unborn children, real father.
He paused, as if to take in my non-reaction before shrugging then continuing on. “Last year, one of the wealthiest businessmen in Moscow had a falling out with him. From what I heard, it was a business gone wrong, and apparently, Benedikt didn’t want to give back the money that was invested in the company. He won’t yield. They want to hurt him, but he’s too powerful. And since he didn’t have any wife or children, it was difficult to make that possible … until they found out about Maria and how she gave birth to a girl a year after Romanov left Athens.