strategically severing the ties to an underbelly of the city he wanted nothing to do with.
Nearly a decade ago, his father had supposedly ordered a prominent businessman to be taken out, along with the man’s assistant. That dangerous rumor kept filtering around, but if Braden could pull this family around, point them in the right direction, perhaps such whispered speculations would be put to rest.
Everything would take time. This was a business Braden learned to be patient in. Effective, forceful and controlling, but patient.
He’d never ordered any killings, prayed to God he never had to. Transitioning was difficult, but Braden had to. He had to secure a future for the family he eventually wanted, but at the same time fulfill his father’s dying wishes.
As he entered the last bedroom, he stood in the doorway and moved his light around, familiarizing himself with the furniture layout. More built-in bookcases. Nice charm to add to each room, but a pain in the ass for someone on a scavenger hunt.
Ryker had mentioned searching the obvious places, but Braden was here now and wanted to see everything for himself firsthand.
Braden slid the flashlight beneath his arm so he could use both hands to shift books and knickknacks around on the shelves. So far no hidden door, no secret hole hidden behind a panel. Nothing. But he wasn’t discouraged. Getting into this house was one of the biggest hurdles, and here he was. Now he just needed to be patient, because the scrolls were here. They had to be.
The irony that his family unofficially dealt in retrieving stolen relics and heirlooms, and they couldn’t even get back their own possessions, was not lost on him. Granted, they technically stole back the items, but those words would never come out of his mouth, and Ryker was the guy who did all the dirty work. So in a sense, Braden never saw how the items were taken back. So long as it was done correctly and satisfied clients all over the globe, the details didn’t matter. The auction house gave them the front they needed to play modern-day Robin Hood, but the rumors around the family gave them that edge that helped them with their tough, hard-ass image.
Generations of corruption would be hard to move past, but Braden was determined. The art dealings would continue, and there was no harm in taking back what was rightfully due to those who had lost heirlooms, as long as it didn’t require any violence. But any more than lying and stealing had to cease...sooner rather than later.
Ryker wasn’t too keen on Braden’s new, somewhat lily-white direction, but Braden wasn’t asking for permission. He was in charge now, and Ryker would have to understand that any sort of bloodshed was a thing of the past.
Which reminded him, he needed to check in with their right-hand man who was currently in London looking for a rare piece of art that needed to be returned to a client in Paris during the next auction.
By the time he’d finished the two large bedrooms at the end of the hall, Braden was no closer than when he’d started. Sleep was going to have to happen because his eyes were burning, and most likely it was nearly morning at this point. He couldn’t help but wonder what all the unpacked boxes were, though. He’d seen a few in her kitchen, several in the living room, and with her closet door open, he’d spotted a good amount stacked in there. Hadn’t she said she’d lived here for a few months?
Those unpacked boxes held so much potential, but how many were hers and how many were already here for years?
Using his flashlight to head back to the bedroom, Braden flicked it off as soon as he reached the doorway. The second he stepped inside, warmth surrounded him. Zara lay on her side, her hand tucked beneath her cheek, her ponytail now in disarray as hair draped over her forehead and down the side of her face.
Slipping back out of his shirt, he sat on the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes off the sleeping beauty. He
Nearly a decade ago, his father had supposedly ordered a prominent businessman to be taken out, along with the man’s assistant. That dangerous rumor kept filtering around, but if Braden could pull this family around, point them in the right direction, perhaps such whispered speculations would be put to rest.
Everything would take time. This was a business Braden learned to be patient in. Effective, forceful and controlling, but patient.
He’d never ordered any killings, prayed to God he never had to. Transitioning was difficult, but Braden had to. He had to secure a future for the family he eventually wanted, but at the same time fulfill his father’s dying wishes.
As he entered the last bedroom, he stood in the doorway and moved his light around, familiarizing himself with the furniture layout. More built-in bookcases. Nice charm to add to each room, but a pain in the ass for someone on a scavenger hunt.
Ryker had mentioned searching the obvious places, but Braden was here now and wanted to see everything for himself firsthand.
Braden slid the flashlight beneath his arm so he could use both hands to shift books and knickknacks around on the shelves. So far no hidden door, no secret hole hidden behind a panel. Nothing. But he wasn’t discouraged. Getting into this house was one of the biggest hurdles, and here he was. Now he just needed to be patient, because the scrolls were here. They had to be.
The irony that his family unofficially dealt in retrieving stolen relics and heirlooms, and they couldn’t even get back their own possessions, was not lost on him. Granted, they technically stole back the items, but those words would never come out of his mouth, and Ryker was the guy who did all the dirty work. So in a sense, Braden never saw how the items were taken back. So long as it was done correctly and satisfied clients all over the globe, the details didn’t matter. The auction house gave them the front they needed to play modern-day Robin Hood, but the rumors around the family gave them that edge that helped them with their tough, hard-ass image.
Generations of corruption would be hard to move past, but Braden was determined. The art dealings would continue, and there was no harm in taking back what was rightfully due to those who had lost heirlooms, as long as it didn’t require any violence. But any more than lying and stealing had to cease...sooner rather than later.
Ryker wasn’t too keen on Braden’s new, somewhat lily-white direction, but Braden wasn’t asking for permission. He was in charge now, and Ryker would have to understand that any sort of bloodshed was a thing of the past.
Which reminded him, he needed to check in with their right-hand man who was currently in London looking for a rare piece of art that needed to be returned to a client in Paris during the next auction.
By the time he’d finished the two large bedrooms at the end of the hall, Braden was no closer than when he’d started. Sleep was going to have to happen because his eyes were burning, and most likely it was nearly morning at this point. He couldn’t help but wonder what all the unpacked boxes were, though. He’d seen a few in her kitchen, several in the living room, and with her closet door open, he’d spotted a good amount stacked in there. Hadn’t she said she’d lived here for a few months?
Those unpacked boxes held so much potential, but how many were hers and how many were already here for years?
Using his flashlight to head back to the bedroom, Braden flicked it off as soon as he reached the doorway. The second he stepped inside, warmth surrounded him. Zara lay on her side, her hand tucked beneath her cheek, her ponytail now in disarray as hair draped over her forehead and down the side of her face.
Slipping back out of his shirt, he sat on the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes off the sleeping beauty. He
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