Читать книгу Masked Innocence - Alessandra Torre, Alessandra Torre - Страница 19

Fourteen

The limo moved quietly through the dark streets. Curled into a ball in Brad’s arms, my body limp, weakened by orgasms, four-inch heels and champagne, I watched passing streetlights flickering by, softened by the car’s dark tint. I closed my eyes and let my body go limp, kept warm by Brad’s jacket tented over me.

A few minutes later, on the verge of sleep, I heard him talking, softly, and my ears strained to catch his words.

“I need you to take care of something.” Brad spoke into his cell, looking out on the passing lights.

“What, a body?” The voice laughed roughly, loud enough that I could hear it. He shifted, and I saw his jaw tighten, face hard.

“There’s a Russian girl, at 42 Hemingway Drive. In the morning, have Maria call Beverly Franklin—I’ll text you her number. Tell Maria to offer assistance to Beverly, see if there is anything she can do to help out with the girl’s situation. Have her mention our contacts in immigration.”

There was silence for a moment. “You fucking this girl?”

“No. Not that it matters.” Brad’s voice changed when he was on the phone. Softer in volume, but harder in tone. The smooth cadence and cultured voice were gone, replaced with a rough brogue and steely tone. He ordered rather than asked.

“Okay, okay. I was just asking.”