Dark Mafia Kings by Penelope Wylde

Chapter Ten

Sevastyan turned, giving her his back.

“Gather your things, Ms. Carmichael. You’re fired.”

She moved a half step back and swayed by the sudden onslaught of adrenaline.

Matteo’s fingers wrapped around both her arms, steadying her before she had a chance to catch her breath.

She pressed her fingers against her lips and offered a small apologetic smile. “This shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered, hoping her heavy breaths masked her spoken thoughts. “I’m so sorry. But please. I need this job.”

Matteo peered down at her, his dark eyes unreadable. With every second that passed she could feel his anger rise and the longer they shared the same air, the tighter his grip became around her arms. Not to the point of pain but at the same time she knew breaking away wouldn’t be an option. He had total control of her. And if she wanted to be entirely honest, she liked it.

She flinched at the flash of distrust and regret in his eyes, and she took that as a sign he’d gone too far because in the next second his hands were no longer on her.

“You’re right. That shouldn’t have happened. Vastyan and I take full responsibility.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. That was the last thing she wanted. How foolish could she be?

Her mouth gaped open. He’d spoken softly, but each word struck like Rocky Balboa took a shot at her gut. Humiliation drained the heat from her body and left her cold and shaken.

Her already racing pulse kicked a notch higher. What did he just say? Knocked off balance, she managed only to stare, mouth wide open. Good thing too since she couldn’t find the words to express the epic levels of shock that clamped around her vocal cords. Normally she’d fall back on her ability to breathe through a situation like this. Like when she was confronted by a robber with a gun wanting her car in downtown Chicago on Christmas Eve a few years back. Yeah, been there, never want to do that again.

She quickly regained her composure though, and her mouth thinned into a tight line of anger.

“I need this job.” No lie. But her words fell on deaf ears. Or, they simply did not care.

Her thoughts ran to her phone and the evidence she had there. Blackmail really didn’t sit within her wheelhouse…then again. Seemed like a good option. But what did she have? Some names in a book, a few shots of a room in the basement. Probably nothing that would raise an eyebrow with any authority.

“I’m good at my job. The clients love me and I’ll do whatever you need.”

Sevastyan turned.

She studied his face to try to get a bead on what he was thinking. Again, no dice. He held everything about himself so close no one in the club knew more than a handful of details about him, if that. It was probably what fueled all the rumors. Everyone needed something to fill the void of the unknown.

At this point, she’d have to use a damn crowbar to pry even the slightest of emotions from him. She tracked Matteo moving back where he lowered his weight onto the desk. His bare chest drew her eyes next but she quickly looked away.

“Mr. Volkov, please reconsider.”

Sevastyan’s gaze never left hers and frankly, it terrified her.

“You are playing a dangerous game, kroshka, dangerous for you and me.” He took in her ruffled appearance before drawing his eyes back to hers.

Confusion had her mouth parting slightly. What the heck did that mean? “I’m not the one who ate me and then fired me in the same breath. I don’t know what you’re playing at here.” She looked between both men. If this was it, she might as well go out with a flurry of glory.

He batted her observation away as if meaningless.

“Seraphina.” Matteo rolled her name around as if sampling fine wine, his Spanish accent lending an exotic sound to the vowels. “When it comes to those under our care, we don’t play games.” He matched her posture, leaning toward her.

Slowly, she dipped two fingers into the front of her ridiculously small skirt and produced the slip of paper Maya had given her earlier. His eyes tracked her every movement, nothing went unnoticed.

“Honest. Though true I hoped to run into you, I meant what I said about the note for Indigo.”

Sevastyan plucked the paper from her fingers and read over the black slashes of ink that formed the name of a client who frequented the club.

“I see.” His voice lowered to that of a husky whisper, his expression becoming heavy with what she wanted to say was concern but could easily be mistaken for indifference.

“Club rules state any employee seeing a client of Haven’s is grounds for dismissal.”

“Pot meets kettle.”

“I’m not a client of my own club.”

“That’s right, the rules never apply to you. Either of you, do they?”

“Careful, birdie,” Matteo drew out slowly. his eyes hooded and dark.

In a casual glide, Sevastyan crossed his arms across his wide chest. Because she was a card-carrying member of the feminine sex, she couldn’t help but notice the way his shirt pulled and tightened. Not that he had to know how much he affected her.

She pulled the one Matteo gave her tighter around her middle. His scent made it hard to think but she pushed on.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” God, she needed to shut up and accept defeat. “It’s a simple note from a man interested in Indigo. Not the other way around. It’s not my place to say anything.”

“You didn’t have a problem stepping over boundaries to bring her the message.”

“As an employee who walks among the members, I see the value of a happy client. I know this gentleman, Sevastyan.”

Her using his name drew his powerful gaze to hers. She tapped the piece of paper he held between them. “Patience isn’t his strong point by far, and I know he’s a high figure for the club. I trust Indigo can handle him correctly when the time comes. I didn’t want her to be surprised if he happens upon her when she enjoys her evening break in the lounge.”

He sighed. “How thoughtful of you. And how is it you’re such a people person?”

She lifted a brow at his phrasing. She wasn’t. She just knew how to read people. For instance, he was no closer to retracting his move to fire her no matter his curiosity. The set of his jaw in a hard, stubborn line. The way he leaned the majority of his weight on his heels as if digging them in and if that didn’t tell her enough, his expression read like a newspaper with one headline: YOU’RE FIRED!

Gambling was more her father’s gift than her own, but right that second, she had everything to lose and a little ground to gain toward her goal. All in it was then.

“Before this, I’ve worked in a few other places. You pick up a few things.” She held her palms to encompass Haven. “When you deal with a lot of people the first thing a girl learns is how to read people. Then you find out how to tip the scales in your favor. Or so they say.” Every word was a lie, but she sold it with the set of her shoulders and refusal to look away from him.

He narrowed his eyes, and the sharp gaze pinned her feet to the cool wood flooring.

He nodded seriously and her hope climbed an impossible notch higher. Maybe what she had to say was enough to make him pause and reconsider.

He picked up the phone and punched the button marked security, and hell, he might as well have punched her.

He stepped in front of her and she licked her lips nervously. “You’ll accompany Matteo and Maddox to the main floor.”

Matteo took her by the arm. His hold firm but not painful.

“Damn it,” she swore under her breath.

A moment later her friend at the main entrance hulked in front of the doorway with a scowl on his face.

“Maddox.”

“Sir?” he said in a tone someone else might have used to describe paint drying. Some days she really wished detaching herself from emotion worked.

“After you handle Ms. Carmichael downstairs, see Lucian. We’ll need to discuss security measures and the men under your department.”

Her ability to stand up for herself weakened. She didn’t have the strength in her to look at Sevastyan. “I see. I understand. Maybe I don’t belong here after all. You were right.” With more pride than she felt, Rhia gave a curt nod, chin held high. “I’ll gather my things and be gone by the end of the evening. I’m sorry.”

What else could she say?

Determination and adrenaline saturated every cell in her body, the only thing that kept her from screaming in frustration or falling to the floor in a ball of defeat.

A strong hand came down on her shoulder. The move was slight, but she felt the rough pad of his finger through Matteo’s shirt all the same. “You misunderstand. Return to the main floor and finish your shift. We’ll discuss where you belong later.”

The inflection on that word gave her heart a jolt.

A sane person would run and never look back. Less than a month ago she would have laughed at anyone who said she would be standing at the Devil’s gate hoping to get in, but here she was and she knew the devil when she saw him.

Her eyes narrowed though the words left her slightly baffled.

“You’ll learn two things about me. I’m a selfish mother fucker who takes what he wants.”

“We all are.” Matteo drew out.

Her gaze dropped to his bare chest and held over his heart. A stiff yet gentle finger raised her chin until her gaze found a set of black eyes.

“But we’re also fair. You have one chance to prove Vastyan and myself wrong.”

She tried for a doubtful expression, but it probably came off as confused.

Prove them wrong? What did he really think of her then? And what the hell did he want?

Holding her gaze, Sevastyan gestured to the door where Maddox silently stood waiting.

Clutching her stilettos, Matteo guided her to the door where the guard held her with a look of contempt. “Sorry, Mads,” she used the shortened version of his name to help return them to a friendly co-worker status, but he shut that down quickly with a stone-cold stare.

Great. One less friend on her side.

She couldn’t blame him. “I didn’t mean to get you or Mr. Beef Cakes in trouble,” she whispered before turning for one last look at Sevastyan.

She’d kissed the enemy and failed her one mission all in a single night. Her father would be so proud.

“Ms. Carmichael, one more thing.”

She turned to look back at him, Matteo's scent warping her brain power. Her gaze rose to his, expectant. “Yes, Mr. Volkov?”

Graceful motions closed the few steps they’d put between them. He cupped a cheek. Electric tingles skated across her skin and fed her an overpowering need to touch him back.

“Never take my kindness for weakness. It will get you killed.”