The Hermit (Mafia Empire Book 1)

The call connects, and it only rings a few times before it goes to voicemail.

“Now is not the time,” I mutter as I open a chat to type out a message.

Grace: Answer the call. I have something important to tell you, and I can’t do it over text.

Ciara: Give me a second.

Instead of a second, it takes a few minutes before my phone starts to ring.

I answer quickly, “Thank God.”

“Hi,” Ciara says, a clear trembling in her voice. “I’m sorry. I miss you. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

My heart squeezes, and my eyes drift closed as I murmur, “It’s good to hear your voice too.” I swallow hard before continuing, “Listen, I have terrible news, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“What?” Ciara gasps.

“Dad’s been killed by the same man who had me kidnapped.”

“Oh my God, Grace!” she exclaims. “Where did it happen? Was it at home? Did you get hurt?”

Jesus, if Ciara hadn’t run away and I hadn’t married Dominik, we’d both be dead right now.

The realization hits hard as I reply, “I’m fine. I wasn’t home.”

Ciara lets out a sob, and hearing her cry breaks my heart and has me saying, “Oh, honey, I wish I could hold you right now.”

“Are you safe?” she asks, her voice thick with tears.

I turn away from Dominik as I answer, “I’m safe. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Where are you? Do you have enough money?”

“Yeah,” the word trembles over the line, and I can hear she’s lying as she says, “I’m seeing all the sights in Europe while…ahh..trying to find myself.” Changing the subject, she asks, “Where are you?”

I glance over my shoulder to where Dominik is looking at something on his laptop, then reply, “I’m with Dominik.”

“Jesus, Grace!” she exclaims. “I…what…God. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh…” I hush her. “I’m really okay. So far, he’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Yeah, right,” she mutters, then her voice is strained again as she says, “I’m sorry about everything.”

“It’s okay,” I say. Dominik taps on his watch to show me it’s time to hang up, which has me adding, “I have to go. I’ll get a new number soon, so be on the lookout for it.”

“I love you, Grace. So so much.”

“I love you too, Ciara. Be careful and take care of yourself, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles before whispering again, “Love you.”

The call ends, and feeling emotional from getting to talk with Ciara, I place my cell phone on Dominik’s desk before rushing out of the office.

I hurry past my bedroom and take the stairs down. When I burst out of the backdoor, I pick a random direction and start walking even though it’s getting dark.

Why does it feel like I just said goodbye to Ciara for the last time?

Within a span of twenty-four hours, I’ve lost my family.

I wasn’t close with Dad and hated him for the position he put me in with Braden, but after all was said and done, he was still my father.

Ciara just left, and it feels like she’s cutting ties with me.

Maybe I’m overreacting, but we used to talk about everything, and now I don’t even know where in Europe she is.

Suddenly, arms come around me and I’m yanked off my feet. I let out a startled scream, and before I can try to fight off whoever has a hold of me, panic flares through me hot and fast.

Braden plows into my back, and I hit the ground with a harrowing cry.

His fingers brutally grip my hair, and my face is pressed hard into the grass.

Time warps, and when the panic begins to retreat, I find myself pressed against a solid chest while sitting on the ground.

I become aware of Dominik’s familiar scent, and relief trickles into my heart.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” he murmurs repeatedly while keeping me pressed to his chest.

When I stir in his hold, he pulls back, and with worried eyes, he searches my face before asking, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I glance around us, then remember he grabbed me. “Why did you do that?”

He points toward an area ahead of us. “I have landmines planted around the house. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Jesus. I was almost blown to smithereens.

“I called out to you, but you didn’t respond,” he adds while helping me to my feet.

“And now I owe you for saving my life for a third time,” I mutter as I brush grass and sand from my butt.

“You settled any past and future debts the moment you married me,” he says as he starts walking back in the direction of the house. “As your husband, it’s my duty to protect you.”

My heart skips a beat, and it startles me so much my hand flies up and covers the spot where the organ is.

Everything about our wedding day is the total opposite of when I married Braden.

Honestly, Dominik has done more to protect me in the short time I’ve known him than my father has ever done.

When he notices I’m not behind him, he stops to look at me.

As we stare at each other, a wind chills the air and blows some strands across my face.

Dominik walks back to where I’m standing, and lifting his arms, his strong hands frame my face. He stares deep into my eyes for a moment before lowering his head.

My heart instantly starts to beat like crazy.

Instead of trying for more, he kisses my forehead, then taking my hand, he murmurs, “Come, let’s go inside. It gets cold at night on the mountain.”

I let him lead me back to the house, super conscious of his fingers wrapped around mine. The way my hand fits into his bigger one weirdly makes me feel feminine.

It isn’t something I’ve felt in a very long time, and even though it has my stomach tightening with nerves, a smile tugs at my lips.

DOMINIK

Yesterday was Ian’s funeral. I wouldn’t let Grace attend, because it’s too dangerous, and I know for a fact the bratva would be watching.

Ian’s brother took care of the service and burial, and as far as I know, Ciara also didn’t attend.

As I watch the security footage of Grace pulling weeds out of the vegetable garden, satisfaction fills my chest. She’s quickly fallen into a peaceful routine of tending to the garden, helping to keep the house clean, and cooking.

Four days of having her in my space, and not once has it felt suffocating. I actually find myself seeking out her company.

My phone beeps with an incoming message, drawing my attention away from Grace.

Evinka: Check your emails for the first draft of drawings and plans from the architect, and let me know what you want changed or added.

I click on my emails and glance over the drawings.

I like how there’s a secure tunnel where boats can dock. From there, a path leads to the area where the facility is.

Just like with my house here in the mountains, the facility will have a Zen feel to it.

I sent a quick voice message to Evinka, saying, “Everything looks good so far. We can install SM-2s on either side of the tunnel. Tell the architect to make them retractable.”

Evinka: Okay, and just a heads up, a group of Russians were spotted in Bratislava.

Dominik: Grace had her phone on her, but I’ve destroyed it. Get Grace a new phone, and when I see you for the meeting, you can give it to her. Keep an eye on the group.

Evinka: I have two men tailing them.

Dominik: Good. Any news on Devlin’s buyers?

Evinka: I’ve touched base with most of them. We’ve taken over all the open orders, and I’ll keep an eye on the rest of the buyers to make sure we don’t lose them to the bratva.

Dominik: Good. Watch your back.

Evinka: You too.

Setting my cell phone down on the desk, I check all the underground chatter and find a sale of submachine guns going for a much cheaper price than usual. The contact name shows Bastien Vlasov.

“Fucking Russians are trying to get into my market with cheaper stock,” I mutter as anger ignites in my chest.

After the meeting on the island, I’ll have to deal with the bratva.

Unlocking my cell phone screen again, I bring up a number and press dial.

“What can I do for you?” Luis, a manager for my factory in Peru, answers.

“Has the bratva contacted you?”

“No, but I’ve heard they struck a deal with Javier Rojas,” he informs me.

Jebat!

Javier Rojas runs one of the biggest cartels in South America and is a thorn in Santiago’s side. The last thing we need is the Rojas cartel siding with the bratva.

“Let me know if you hear anything else,” I order.

“Will do. Be careful. It feels like there’s a storm coming.”

“You too. Try to move the shipments faster than usual and switch up your routine.”

I end the call and drop my phone on the desk while rising to my feet.

“Boha vyjebaneho,” I mutter, my tone filled with rage. “Fucking bratva.”

Needing to let off steam, I stalk out of my office and head to the gym that’s set up in the basement.

As I stalk through the kitchen to get to the stairs, Grace comes in from outside.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” I mutter before taking the stairs down.

I switch on the lights, then grabbing hold of the shirt at the back of my neck, I rip it over my head. Dropping the fabric on the floor, I head straight for the punching back and hit the shit out of it.

Only when I’ve worked up a sweat do I stop to catch my breath.

I walk to the cabinet and pull a towel from it to wipe my face. When I turn around, it’s to find Grace standing with my shirt neatly folded in her hands, her eyes locked on me with worry.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” she asks, her tone cautious.

I let out a sigh before answering, “The bratva.” Figuring the sooner she learns about my world, the better, I explain, “It looks like the bratva is trying to team up with the Rojas cartel.”

I walk closer to her and watch as her eyes drift down my bare chest before stopping at the words, ‘survival of the fittest,’ tattooed on my abdomen.

Is she eye-fucking me right now?

She stares at my chest for way longer than is socially acceptable before realizing I’m watching her.

Instantly, her cheeks turn pink and she shoves my shirt at me. I barely have time to grab hold of the fabric before she spins around and practically runs away from me.

Letting out an amused chuckle, I shrug on my shirt before leaving the gym.