soon she’ll be able to wrestle control back from that fucker, Jasper.
My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my pocket. It’s Damen. I can’t talk to him with Dasha next to me, so I get up and wander down the aisle, toward the toilets.
“Yeah?”
“So, I’ve done some very thorough research of Jasper. He’s a dodgy fucker but nothing you can’t handle. Yes, the lawyer he uses is feared and thought to be a mob lawyer, but Jasper knows him from back in the day. They went to college together. I think the stuff he’s doing for Jasper is friends’ favors, you know? There doesn’t seem to be any link between Jasper and the actual mob in Paris. Plus, the mob in Paris isn’t what it was either. It’s in flux like everywhere, and many of the old French and Italian mafia families have been replaced and displaced by up-and-comers from places like Albania and Poland. I doubt very much that Jasper has any sway with any big families.”
“That’s good to know. How the hell has he managed to exert so much control over Dasha and take over her finances then?”
“He met her when she was young, impressionable. He’s clearly an abuser, and if he’s spent years controlling her and making her believe he’s the only one she can rely on, it’s going to fuck with her head. He took control, I imagine, when she was starting out, just wanting to dance, and it grew from there. I’ve looked into every corner of both their lives, and he had control of the finances from a young age. It means she’s probably not even aware fully of how much money she’s made. Thing is, the guy we’ve got on our side now isn’t going to be intimidated, and he isn’t going to back down. I also found that there’s some tax avoidance stuff linked to Jasper, and he’s also been accused by more than one girl in the past of inappropriate behavior. I reckon we’ve got enough here to ensure she can leave him easily.”
“Can’t thank you enough. I owe you one big time.”
“Yeah, might as well be full-time employed by you lot,” he grouses.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” he says, but I don’t buy that. Is he doing more work for Konstantin? For Andrius? They said they wanted free of this stuff?
Vasily! I bet it’s Vasily. I won’t ask Damen, that’s not fair, but I’ll call Vasily later and see what is going on.
After a connecting flight from Athens to Corfu, we arrive at Andrius’ place, weary and hungry. Mr. Bojangles is with us. He came on the flight. The cats and the birds are safe and being cared for, which was hard to sort at such short notice, but I found a lovely lady to take them near Versailles.
We reach the gates and find ourselves greeted by one of the armed guards. Our bags are searched, and Dasha’s mother turns her worried face to look at her daughter.
“I don’t think we’re safe here,” she whispers.
“Andrius is Spetsnaz, so is Konstantin. Reece, the third partner in our venture, is British Special Forces. We’re building the world’s premier security firm. I think you’re as safe here as one could wish to be.” I shake my head at her.
God, the woman annoys me. I want to strangle her for what’s she’s done to me, and the only reason she’s here is for Dasha’s sake.
I must be turning soft as butter to have this viper in my nest. She’s a horrible woman who betrayed me and her daughter, but Dasha still seems determined to try to have some sort of functioning relationship with the old cow. So here we are.
As we approach the main house, the door opens, and Andrius stands in the light spilling from it, tall and foreboding. “Welcome, Dasha,” he says politely. Then he dips his head a little and welcomes her mother too.
She smiles at the politeness and seems to relax a notch.
“We put you in one of the cottages,” he says to me. “You have some privacy there and some quiet, so you can rest after the journey.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it a lot.”
He shrugs and pats me on the back. “You’re one of us now. Business partners, right?”
Yes, I am, and it feels good. I’ll have managed to build something for myself here, if this works out for us all. A worthwhile investment in a bona fide business, and I will have a home on this