Knocked Up By the Russian Boss by Bella King

Chapter 13

MAXIM

“Wait, where was the party?”

I tell him the address, and for a moment, he appears deep in thought. I doubt very much that he would be familiar with the address of the party offhand, so I’m more curious than anything.

“Shit, that’s where that one Italian philanthropist lives, right?” he asks.

I shrug. I have no idea who lives there, but Sergei seems to know something about it.

“Some kid was killed there last night. Like, beaten to death by a bunch of other college guys,” he continues, his eyes widening as he puts together the details in his mind.

This piques my interest.

The events of the night flash through my mind. Could it have been the asshole who was pressuring her to drink more at the bat caves? I can’t say I’d be surprised to see that guy get beaten to death. Some people are so shitty that their forfeit their right to human life.

I’m not sure where I fall on that spectrum.

“Does Ivory know him, do you think? That could be why the cops were there at her place today. They were probably just looking for a statement,” he says.

My nerves calm a bit at the idea. Maybe I was never in danger of being caught lurking around her apartment. The police department has a murder to deal with.

“I might have actually seen him harassing her last night when I was spying on her,” I reply.

Sergei squints at me, and I ready myself for the incoming onslaught of questions and insults. “What the fuck were you doing? You weren’t following her around, were you?” he asks, finally getting up off the couch and steadying himself on it.

I sigh, knowing that he historically doesn’t approve of my methods of gaining intel.

“I do what I want,” I reply, hoping that my deflection will discourage him from asking more questions.

“If she gets the feeling that you’re following her, she could easily have an investigator start following your ass around, and that will bring the cops right to our fucking doorstep,” he says, his agitation cutting through his drunken stupor and lending him more clarity than I was hoping he would have.

“If she’s a part of an investigation for the murder at the party, she won’t even notice that I’m around. That dumbass getting beat to death might be the best thing for me right now,” I say, picking up the vodka from the floor and placing it on the table in front of me.

It’s expensive shit. I don’t need it getting kicked into the wall.

“Fine, but I’m going to be watching you a lot more closely until something happens or this all blows over. This is not one of your more intuitive plans, Max,” he responds, his tons growing harsher the more I try to convince him. Maybe that isn’t what he needs.

“Just do your job, and I’ll do mine,” I grumble, turning away.

I do a quick internet search on my phone for news of the murder, and I’m greeted by an obnoxious face with the name Chad underneath it.

Well, that was easy enough. I’ve seen this prick before.

Upon further searches, I discover that Chad was the son of one of Steven Mae’s close friends. He also had a record for sexual harassment, but it had been expunged because of his father’s desperate attempt to keep the family name clean. His sins were bought and paid for, and he never spent a day in prison. Maybe getting killed was the only justice that his victims would see.

I know there’s a significant amount of risk in pursuing Ivory in the first place, but now that she’s surrounded by murder drama, I’ll have to be twice as careful and better at covering my tracks. No more random stints of following her around all night.

If I’m going to get close to her, she can’t ever know how close I’ve been.

I got some good information from snooping around her apartment, though, which is fortunate because I can definitely never do that again. Sergei is right. I’ve gotten way too confident in my ability to get away with anything undetected like I’m invisible.

While I resent this fact, I’ve never had to deal with the cops interfering with my work. Not like this, anyway.

Something in me feels compelled to go see Ivory to make sure she’s alright. She was abandoned by her friends, and then someone she knew got killed. Cops at her door probably would have her in hysterics if she’s anything like the other women I know.

She’s young and potentially melodramatic. I want to make sure she’s okay, at least just to know that she won’t stress out and off herself in the middle of the night.

Sergei is nowhere to be found as I leave the compound. Good for me, as I don’t need his input on this right now. He’ll still be there when I have logistical issues, and my personal endeavors aren’t his problem.

The visitor parking at Ivory’s complex is overtaken by midday sunlight as I pull back in, contrasted by the black hole that is my SUV. A different couple with a similar rat dog are exchanging passive-aggressive comments to each other. It’s so strange to me how bored these people must be, all living the same lives, no stories to tell or experiences to compare.

I find Ivory’s apartment number quickly and punch it into the elevator just as I had yesterday while she was gone. I’m usually pretty good at covering my tracks, but Sergei’s newfound lack of faith in me has me on my toes. Did I put everything back where I found it?

Guess I’ll find out.

When I reach the top of the building, I find the penthouse door and knock a few times. At first, there’s no response, but I know she’s here. Where else would an awkward, quiet academic be on a Saturday, especially after she told me about all the homework she has to do?

I knock again, listening closely for footfalls or any movement at all. Before I’m able to knock for the last time, I hear her scream “What?!” from the back of the apartment.