Silent Lies (Perfectly Imperfect #8)

Page 22



“They strolled around the shopping complex for a bit, taking selfies, and then we dropped off the other girl at her home and came here.”

“Anything else?”

“Her brother called her on our way to this place.”

“What did they talk about?” I ask.

“I couldn’t hear his side of the conversation, but based on her replies, I think he wanted to know if she was okay. She said she’s having a great time spending your money.”

I look back at my wife. The bank sends me a text message every time my card is used. I didn’t receive any today. She was paying for her purchases with her own money.

Jovan says something else, but with the helmet on, I don’t catch it.

“Repeat,” I say and turn to face him.

“She got another call just before we reached the restaurant, but didn’t answer it. When she looked at the phone, she must have declined and put it back into her purse.”

“Interesting. If she gets any more strange calls, let me know.”

“Sure.”

I switch my gaze back to my wife who’s currently giggling with the waitress, motioning with her hands through the air. Her nails are gold today. I move my eyes from her hands to her lips wondering what got her so excited. Her lips are moving, and I can see them clearly, but I can’t decipher anything she’s saying. The waitress responds, but I don’t catch what the young Asian woman says, either. I look up at the sign above the entrance. It’s a Japanese restaurant. No wonder I can’t get a read on their conversation. I don’t speak Japanese, but it looks like Sienna does. Well, isn’t my glittery wife full of surprises?

“Call Keva,” I tell Jovan. “After dinner, I want her to ask my wife to help around the kitchen.”

Jovan stares at me, his eyebrows hitting his hairline. “All right,” he mumbles, confusion written all over his face.

“Small tasks, nothing hard. If Sienna says no, tell Keva not to insist.”

“Is that all?”

“I’ll be dealing with Wesley tonight and won’t be home before midnight. Tell Keva to message me with what happened in the kitchen.”

Jovan responds, but I don’t pay any attention to him, my eyes back on my wife. This morning, I woke up with Sienna in my arms, curled up like a kitten. I wished I didn’t have to leave her. Staying in bed, with her snuggled into my body, sounded like a much better option than heading to work, even without sex in the picture. I tried to recall if I ever had an urge to spend a night with a woman if there wasn’t sex involved and came up blank. And I most certainly have never delayed business obligations so I could check up on one, either. But here I am now, spying onmy wife, instead of heading to off the fucker who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. And wondering who the fuck was on the other line of the phone call she disconnected.

“If any man approaches my wife, take care of him,” I growl and lower my visor. Time to pay a visit to the snitch.

“Take care of him?” Jovan asks. “In what way?”

I meet his gaze through the tinted shield. “In any way that ends with requiring a spot at a cemetery, Jovan.”

* * *

It’s well after midnight when I finally arrive home. I had to take a longer route back because the police presence around Wesley’s block was heavy. Someone probably reported screaming.

I nod at the man on guard by the front door. “Anything?”

“No. The guards outside the perimeter fence confirmed there is nothing suspicious.”

“Good,” I say and head upstairs.

It’s just a matter of time until Bogdan makes his move. He’ll probably hit one of our warehouses or maybe the club, but I prefer to cover all my bases, so I made sure we have men positioned along the road leading up to the house.

I step inside my bedroom and instantly know something isn’t right. The pile of colorful suitcases is gone. My bed is empty. Looks like my wife thinks she has a say about our sleeping arrangements. I throw my jacket onto the recliner next to the balcony doors and head into the bathroom.

After a much-needed shower, I walk down the hall, checking the rooms along the way. There are several unoccupied suites on this floor because I’d rather not have anyone around me for the few hours I allow myself to rest, so she could be in any of them.

The first few rooms I pass are empty. I slip by Keva’s and Filip’s without checking, as well as some others used by my men, and proceed further down the hallway. My wife is in the last bedroom on this floor, sleeping under a thin blanket on a tiny-ass bed that could never fit my large frame. Her suitcases are stacked in the corner, all eight of them.


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