Page 68 of Bedazzled
“Eloquently said, dear. Well, I shall leave you to it.” The connection was closed before I could ask any more questions, but it was fine. He’d left me a trail of breadcrumbs. A few soft targets to start with, some O’Connell assets to chase.
I’ve always had a relationship with numbers. Spend as much time as I have going over them and it’s understandable. Seven, for instance. Seven is an all-star number, you can count on seven. Four, too, but four is more likely to be plagued by division and complication. One hundred is not to be trusted. It’s one of those numbers liars use when they’re trying to make things look better than they are.
Diving in and out of random accounts and tracking country codes on transfer histories was fun. In fact, the possibility that I could strip those Irish pricks of their money was making this a positively Zen moment for me. In fact, when Kimber came back in to tell me we were landing, I was startled.
“Really? Already?” I asked, then thought about it. “Where are we landing, by the way?”
She smiled as if she was used to flying around people for her boss who had no idea where they were going.
“Dublin, Mrs. Morozov.”
It felt like someone had just punched me hard in the solar plexus. It took me a minute to get my breath back. If I was being honest with myself, I knew all along that O’Rourke was going to throw me into the O’Connell mess. But if he put me in a position where I could distract Yuri, I will gut that man like a fish.
As the wheels touched the tarmac, I noticed something interesting in my search results. “Can I take the laptop with me?”
Kimber nodded, “It was meant for you. As a gift, I believe.”
Marcus helped me out of the jet and into another expensive SUV with blacked-out windows. “Where are we headed?” I asked.
He looked at me in the rearview mirror, his expression impassive. In fact, I don’t think I’d seen him have any other look than inscrutable so far. “To Mr. O’Rourke’s home. He thought you would be more comfortable there than in a hotel.”
And completely under his thumb…I thought crossly. It hit me that I was so close to Yuri right now. Mere miles from wherever he was and the need for him was painful. Was he all right? Was this plan to overturn the O’Connell’s forcing all those horrible memories back into his brain? Without thinking about it, my phone was in my hand.
“You’re not calling him, you idiot,” I whispered.
The Range Rover was blazing along a ribbon of a road by the ocean, Marcus turned a corner and there it was…
“Oh for- are you serious right now?”
“Ma’am?” Marcus enquired politely.
I had to laugh because of course this man would have a castle. “That is a castle. Nolan has a castle.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “the castle was originally constructed in 1270. Since then, numerous improvements have…”
I sat back and let Marcus’ history lesson wash over me. Only twelve months ago I had never heard of the Morozov Bratva. Ella had not been kidnapped by Maksim. I had not yet encountered the glory of Yuri’s bedazzled cock. And now, I’m driving up to a castle and trying to figure out what exactly this sociopathic billionaire is going to expect of me.
My mother’s stern voice from when I finally worked up the courage to call and tell her I was married came back to me. “I knew you’d never have a normal life. But it’s going to be an interesting one. So, you just keep it together, little missy! You remember who you are and where you came from and you’ll be fine. Also, send me some of those Russian nesting dolls because they are adorable.”
Keep it together, girl, I think as we pull up in front of the massive front doors.I got this.
There was a proper English butler with enormous gravitas in Nolan’s castle, who led me to a guest suite. I passed suits of armor nestling suspiciously in alcoves, looking like they wanted to lunge out at me. And I thought Yuri’s mansion was drafty? I’m freezing by the time the butler - whose name was James, not Jeeves which would have been the best thing ever - had instructed me on every possible amenity in my suite and finally shut the door.
The ancient bed was so high that I had to make a running start to hop up on it, which was ungainly enough that I was grateful no one was there to witness it.
Dialing Ella, I wondered if the room was bugged. Oh, well.
“Omigod Tan I’m so glad you called; I haven't been able to sleep!”
I cringed, feeling guilty. “It’s okay, honey. I’m in Dublin, which should not have surprised me, huh?”
“I don’t like how this man is manipulating the situation,” she sounds furious. “Maksim and Yuri are placing a lot of faith in his intel and now he’s got you there? I hate this!”
Rubbing my forehead, I looked out one of the four-hundred-year-old windows at the surf crashing against the beach below the castle. “I know there’s a lot riding on this, Els. Maybe everything is riding on this. But even an oligarch with a narcissistic personality disorder isn’t insane enough to go against the Morozov Bratva.”
“And the Turgenev Bratva, and The Corporation, and the Toscano Mafia,” she added.
“Exactly. Nolan set me up with one of their spy programs to look into the O’Connell clan’s finances. They’re strapped for cash after buying and building up this distillery. If we can find their hidden money reserves, that could finish them off after Yuri and Maksim take over the distillery.”
