Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 29

B***d splatters on my Brioni shirt as I slide the tip of my jade handled knife along the sobbing brunet’s neck. I glare at the crimson that now seems to be blending with the white of my shirt in distaste, realising that I would have to change.

I watch as his body shakes and b***d oozes out of his slit throat as he chokes on his own breath before his eyes roll back in his skull and all life drains out of his body.

My eyes flitter towards the three other dead men currently lined beside him, all of them in chairs with their wrists and legs tied up.

“Any news on our runner yet?” I ask raising my brow in Nikolas’ direction who shakes his head.

“Not yet, but we’re getting closer. I think that he is the one who will be able to tell us about who ordered the attack on you that night. His name was Jeoffrey and he hired the rest of these buffoons.” Nikolas, my best friend and my enforcer in the Bratva explains as I nod my head.

“We find him and then we find out who hired him.” He nods his head, “I’m on it.” And saying that, he walks out of the interrogation room with a purpose on his mind, leaving me standing over the men that I have killed slowly and painfully in the span of the last one week since the attack.

A scowl takes over my lips as I stare at the four of them, bloodied and lifeless, having received appropriate punishments for putting Arabella in danger.

Every blow that I took at their bones, every s***h of blade that I inflicted upon their flesh, all of it was to calm down the maddening beast that has risen inside me that night when I saw Arabella’s bleeding arm.

A monster had been created that night and the only thing that could satisfy him was hunting down each and every single soul responsible for hurting a hair on my sweet wife’s head and then spilling their b***d.

And that is exactly what I have been doing.

Hunting them all down.

All except one. Jeoffrey.

But with Nikolas already on his scent, his days are numbered. And by the time I am done with him, he will be nothing but a crumbled mass of b***d and gore.

I swear it.

I will not let a single one of Arabella’s culprits live freely.

“Get me a new shirt.” I bark the order at the blond haired man standing guard at the door of the dense room and he quickly nods his head, rushing out of the room to follow out my order.

I swipe out my phone from my pocket as I check for updates, realising that it is getting closer and closer for my first meeting at the office.

Shaking my head, I wait for another five minutes before blondie comes back with an ironed white shirt in his hand that I keep in the office here.

Snatching it out of his hands I quickly change before handing my ruined shirt to blondie, “burn it.” I tell him as I stride out of the interrogation room and step into dark and gothically designed hallway with jade floors and gold crests etched into the wall. I take a right at the end of the hall and enter the main courtyard of the establishment that I call Tartarus.

The courtyard is surrounded by arched pillars on all four sides that lead to further spaces in the place and the first floor balconies all open into this open roofed courtyard that is currently shining brightly under the light of the morning sun above.

There is a fountain right in the middle of the courtyard while there are armed men coming in and out of the main gates whereas some of them are standing guard at their usual positions by the balconies or the roof or the corner gates.

Tartarus is a sprawling mansion sitting over a cliff overlooking the sea at the edge of Seattle and this is the place where all of my Bratva thrive. My men revel in the luxury of this place that is built in ten acres of land and surrounded by five hundred acres of forest that ensures secrecy and protection.

No one comes here unless I will it and no one goes out of here unless I allow it.

Tartarus is my playground. This is where all my decisions to make or break worldly regimes are taken and every year, I open my doors to all the major players in the world’s power pool for a splendid gala and a night of celebrations. People come here, make connections and when they leave, they sign iron clad NDAs to ensure that no one ever finds out about my safe haven.

The men here are hardened criminals but with morals so high that they never step a foot out of line. Mercenaries and assassins live in this establishment, they train here, and they vow to always remain loyal to me and the Bratva here too.

Which is why all my illegal businesses are carried out from Tartarus itself. Which is why, when it came to torturing those men who were shooting at our car on that night last week, this is where I had my men bring them.

And now, until Jeoffrey is found, nothing else can be done in the case.

Shaking my head, I press my phone to my ear, “are the arrangements done?” I ask the planner I have hired for tonight.

“Yes, sir, you’re all set for your helicopter ride around the city and then a wonderful dinner shall be arranged for you both in the Fluorescent Wisteria section of the Botanical Garden before ending the night with a carriage ride along the lake.” The planner explains and I nod my head.

“Perfect. Make sure that everything goes off without a hitch. I don’t want any discrepancies taking place.” I growl, reminding the planner once again that his head is on the line.

“Don’t worry, sir,” he sounds utterly terrified, “everything will go according to your plan. Your wife is one lucky woman.”

I roll my eyes and end the call.

It’s Arabella’s birthday today and for this entire week, I have been avoiding her and planning a surprise for her. The guilt of seeing her arm bleed that night is still fresh in my heart and even though I still hate her, I know how much her birthdays mean to her and how she never had anyone celebrate them joyously with her. So, for once, I figured that I should set aside my anger and frustration with her and focus on giving her a good birthday.

At least until she realises what I have been planning to do with Leo’s family business.

Once that comes to light, there would be no stopping her from hating me. But until then, at least I can give her a celebration that she might remember.

Shaking my head, I walk out of the courtyard and then to the car waiting for me right outside as Francis opens the door for me and then slides behind the wheel, “the office.” I tell him curtly and that is all I need to say before the Phantom is rolling off of the driveway and towards the main city.

As I make my way to the office, I cannot help but think about Arabella’s reaction tonight. And for all my claims to not care about her, there is a very small and weak part of me that is hoping that she would like what I have planned for her.

Arabella is a fan of the skies and the views of the city from up above. So much so, that there was a point in her childhood when she was beyond passionate about becoming a pilot. Her love for flying however, got trumped by her love for creative arts and she ended up going the interior designing route instead.

Another thing that she absolutely loves is nature and strolling through gardens or planting her own gardens or literally anything that has anything to do with pretty flowers and sparkly waters.

When I found out that there has been a new installation of a certain fluorescent wisteria species in the botanical gardens, I knew that she would love to see that too.

And so, setting everything up for her birthday was not a difficult task whatsoever. I even had her gift currently tucked away in the back of my closet which I intend to give her by the end of the night.

I don’t know how she’ll react to the gift, but it’s more of a collective approach with the whole evening so I suppose we’ll have to see.

It takes about twenty five minutes to reach the office and by the time I am entering the main executive floor, everyone is already in a flurry to get the tasks of the day ahead completed.

I nod at Jeremiah as he stands up to greet me just before I enter my office suite and he yells out, “Ms. Clark is waiting for you inside, sir.”

I furrow my brows, wondering what Amelia is doing here just before I find her standing by the bar inside— not strange for her to be drinking first thing in the morning.

I roll my eyes, “shouldn’t you be in Paris or something?” I quip, entering further into the suite before she turns around, smiling brightly at me with a glass of martini in her hand.

“I came early to help you with your latest project, silly.” She says with a grin on his lips.

I roll my eyes but still chuckle at her antics fight before she sees something on her phone and frowns.

“Let me guess, your latest boy toy broke up with you?” I ask jokingly, knowing how much she hates anyone insinuating something like that.

“As if anyone can ever break up with me! Remember how it was me who broke up between us and not the other way around?” Or so she would say every time I teased her with something like that.

“No, actually,” she says stepping towards me and I furrow my brows at the way her face is scrunched up in all seriousness, “apparently your wife has just given a statement about how much she hates staying married to you and it is trending.” She turns her phone towards me.

I snatch the device from her and my eyes widen at what I am reading right now.

Arabella Mikhailov has finally broken her silence on her marriage and as it turns out, the man we had been painting as America’s Prince Charming is anything but. Read about how she talks about feeling suffocated in this marriage. Could this be the end of another high profile relationship? Could this be Rhys Mikhailov’s fall from grace? Find out exactly what Arabella Mikhailov had to say about her billionaire, Casanova of a husband.

My eyes are reading words but my mind cannot seem to comprehend them.

A familiar coldness and disgust spreads through my entire body until it engulfs the stupid organ in my chest and then all I can see is red.

This is what she does, first thing in the morning? When I have spent all morning interrogating and killing her culprits and planning the perfect birthday for her?

To hell with that.

To hell with you, Arabella Mancini.

This article is nothing but a wake up call, a reminder of the kind of a woman my wife really is.

And how big of a fool I was.