Dark Mafia Kings by Penelope Wylde
Chapter Eleven
They could not have her.
That fact drove his fist into the wall of his office the next evening causing bits of stone and dirt to explode on impact. He struck again, craving the bloody pain.
Chest heaving, Sevastyan hung his head. She was a vision, an oasis in the middle of his personal hell. Legs that would turn a priest against his vows, long, thick curly hair that spilled down an elegant back, and lips he craved to devour slow and easy.
Beautiful. Compassionate and maybe innocent. Who the fuck cared? She would be gone by tomorrow. He’d call his assistant in and have her hand Seraphina her termination papers and be done with it. Fuck what he said. His friends—his brothers—could fuck off.
Sevastyan stood, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, and watched the bank of monitors fixed to the back wall of his office. Each camera spread throughout the main floor and halls of Haven fed him information and he scoured each of them for a glimpse of her. To make sure no one bothered her, he lied to himself.
He spotted her signature walk on camera four. The way she moved with a graceful elegance through the scantily clothed crowd drew his eye every night. Too fucking young and innocent for the likes of men like them.
But her eyes told another story. One of a woman who had seen the horrors of life.
He moved away to the window and a safer view that didn’t tempt him. Resting his considerable weight on his elbow, he looked out over restless downtown Chicago and absentmindedly rubbed the pad of his thumb across the lip of his tumbler.
Her cryptic answer to how she knew people so well rolled over and over in his mind.
The way she thumbed the cross around her neck set him on edge. Damn woman had fear written all over her. And rightly so. He’d scented it the second he’d hit the third floor and it still clung to the walls, driving him fucking crazy.
Over the past five months, he’d leaned into the dark reputation that came with the Volkov name. Spilling blood came as natural to him as breathing air. No one crossed lines with him or his men. But seeing those unshed tears glitter in her eyes and knowing he put them there to begin with did shit to his gut that made the whole fucking world seem off-kilter.
The man in him craved to step in, take control and erase whatever misconception she had of him. He didn’t want to be the monster the world forced him to be.
Not for her.
It took colossal strength to hold back.
And it still wasn’t enough.
He tore a hand through his hair.
Fuck. He couldn’t help himself.
How had this beautiful creature branded him so damn fast? Hell if he knew, but he’d enjoyed every second of it.
He pulled one of Haven’s matchbooks from his pocket. One could be found on every table in the place, but what was scribbled on the inside made this one stand out. She’d dropped it last night. Hints of her perfume still clung to the cardboard fold, so he knew it belonged to her. He pulled back the flap to find a series of numbers and a pencil drawing.
What had she really been after up here?
No other woman had tested him the way she did and the lingering taste of her juices on his tongue served like a wrecking ball to his legendary control.
A woman looking like her in his club, those deep green eyes and soft, curvy body in a uniform that left nothing to the imagination, spelled trouble for all of them.
The scent of inexperience on a woman that beautiful tempted a man beyond reason. When they saw those curves and those sweet expressive eyes, the only thing a man wanted was to get her in bed so he could be the one to lure her sensual, and possibly submissive side, to the surface. Judging by the none-too-subtle stares and whispers along the club floor, he knew the male clientele were biding their time. Once outside these walls, there was nothing he could do for her.
That presented two problems. One for the men he and his brothers would slaughter if they dare touch her. Which led back to another problem.
A fact.
No woman was safe with them.
Sevastyan sighed as he stuffed the cardboard, swirling a drink in the other.
Many considered him ruthless and lethal when dealing with enemies, and he wasn’t considered much nicer when it came to dealing with friends.
They were right.
From the day he took over Haven he’d immersed himself into the dark underbelly of Chicago, walked among criminals all in the name of justice. Deep down it went against his core beliefs. He spent his entire life avoiding the family business—pushing against those forces cost him his brother.
Disgust mounted in the pit of his stomach until it swirled into a fiery ball. He knew the youngest of the Volkov crew dealt with shady shit, but the things Sevastyan learned in the last few months about his younger brother, Mikhail, made bile rise to the back of his throat. He stretched his hand out, palm up. He knew better than to leave his little brother unchecked, and look what it got him.
Taking another draw on his drink, Sevastyan savored the penetrating burn.
He paced between the window on one side of his office and the wall of glass that opened up into the club. High above the main floor, he looked on as the waitstaff stealthily moved among the clientele, his eyes easily drawn to the curly-haired brunette standing by the bar.
What the hell had management been thinking when hiring someone like her? He made a mental note to have a long talk with Lucian that involved fewer words and more fists. She didn’t belong here and he would find out what the hell brought her to his world and dropped her in the middle of a sex club.
“Brother, I see you’re sulking again. How long have you been standing there in the dark this time? Continue standing there all night or join me for a drink. Your choice.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sevastyan watched Matteo walk through his door. Their door. All four of them shared the office. With them constantly on the move, there was no need for more.
Sevastyan gave an easy shrug and he turned to watch Matteo make a beeline for the couch. Dressed in a simple black T-shirt and jeans, the man eased himself down onto the leather sofa, propping a foot on his knee.
“You know you can be a real fucking asshole.” Sevastyan turned away from the glass separating them from the guests below to see him grin, uncaring. Some guys just never left well enough alone. His childhood friend was one of them.
“At least I’m not a creep watching her from a dark room.”
“Are you going to run your fucking mouth about what I do in my spare time or drink?”
Matteo rolled with the jab and chuckled with a half shrug. “Honestly, both sound fun.” Matteo dangled a fresh bottle of Sevastyan’s favorite vodka between his fingers. “But let’s kill this first. Get the blood going a little.”
He nodded stiffly. “Good plan.”
A thunderstorm rolled in from the south, and he watched the bolts of lightning tear through the sky as he swirled the contents of his glass.
He turned to Matteo. He sat perfectly still except for one small tic that Sevastyan learned to pick up on in the years they had together. When something bothered the man he continuously wiped at the corners of his mouth. Suspicion barreled through him. Walking from the window, he joined Matteo on the couch.
“What brings you around so early?” They normally didn’t turn up at the club until well after sundown. Sometimes they slept here, but Matteo preferred his space when the nights were quiet.
As they’d been for too long.
Sevastyan watched Matteo’s expression turn from calm to tortured.
Matteo threw up a hand and waved toward the window, “I don’t know. I couldn’t stay away. I can’t stop fucking thinking about her. I was so fucking close to taking her to my place and tying her to my bed last night when I walked her out.” Matteo let his words die off.
Sevastyan grunted. “And then what? Have Lucian and Roman busting your door down to get to her. You know how they feel about Seraphina.”
“I know. Would have been fun watching them suffer a little.” Matteo’s eyes burned into him. “Last night. Fuck me, Vastyan.”
He took another swallow. “I know. But she’s off-limits. From here on out. No touching.”
“Fuck you. You can’t expect me not to seek her out.”
Sevastyan turned a hard glare on Matteo. “I expect you to follow orders. If I have to suffer. You sure as fuck do, too.”
“And Lucian? Roman? What are you going to tell them? No way you’ll be able to deny what we did last night.”
“I sure as hell can. And so can you. We can’t get distracted. Not now. We’ll cancel her employment, send her fucking packing.” They didn’t even want to be here so why the fuck would they drag her into this life? To suffer alongside them? Fuck no.
Being his only friends in this dark world, Lucian, Roman, and Matteo all followed him into his hell. All he had to do was ask. He felt terrible to step between them and the one woman it seemed they all liked but life sucked hairy balls on a good day.
And he hadn’t seen a good day in years.
Matteo dropped a string of curses in his native language.
“They’ll be so fucking pissed when they hear we tasted her and they didn’t.”
Shortly after turning eight, his father moved them over from Russia. At that age, everything seemed like one big adventure. Little did he know the deadly, bloody dreams driving them to their new country. His father wanted power and knew this is where the greedy came to thrive.
A year after arriving, Sevastyan had met Matteo, Lucian, and Roman. Friendships formed quickly and alliances were formed. They had a lot in common, mainly their various fucked up families, but other things too. As they got old it turned from childish likes to the love of expensive fast cars, drinking vodka, and knowledge of all things. While his father wanted him to focus on making connections that would push him higher on the ladder in their world, he saw value in having people around him that would have his back.
It had been that way from elementary school and playground fights to college and being the kings of their campus. Nothing ever happened without their approval.
Only a few months before they all graduated from college did they discover they also liked sharing their women. But they went through many relationships to find out not many women liked the idea of having four men wanting them. It was too much to handle.
Matteo drew quiet when Sevastyan only nodded, preferring to drown his feelings in a bottle of Moskovskaya vodka. He peeled the edges of the green label.
“They’ll understand.”
“I guess we’ll see about that soon enough. Lucian sent a text. Wants us downstairs. He might have found something. Said you wanted to go over security for the place, too?”
Right. He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts he’d forgotten.
“That’s a first.”
“What?”
“You forgot your own damn meeting. She did a bigger number on you than I thought. Let’s see how long you can stay away my friend.”
Sevastyan lowered his full weight into the overstuffed sofa beside Matteo and rested his elbows on his knees. “Fuck you, Matteo. Don’t worry about me,” he growled.
Matteo scoffed, reaching for the bottle. “If I didn’t, you’d already be in a hole along with our brother.”
Sevastyan pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the pressure that built between his eyes. “Have you found anything out with your connections?”
“You mean since you asked me last night? No.”
Five months and they still had next to nothing on Mikhail’s murder.
Matteo shook his head. “No one is talking and I can’t go around killing anyone else or they’ll really clamp up.”
“Then start passing out cash. Favors. I don’t fucking care. I want this done and over with so I can burn this fucking place down.”
“Easy, brother. We’ll find someone. They’ll talk. Let me do more hunting.”
Sevastyan scraped a hand over his face, the weight of all the sin that came with the Volkov name pressing on his shoulders. “Find something. I have my hands tied in this fucking club. All eyes are on me. One false move and our hand will be exposed.”
“What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing?” Matteo bellowed, making Sevastyan’s fist clench. “Don’t you think I know that?” Matteo scrubbed a hand over his face and sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees.
In a calmer tone, he continued, “I can only push so hard so fast before I get doors slammed in my face. Let me do my job.”
Sevastyan stood and crossed the office to sit behind the enormous desk. “We can’t stop digging.”
“Someone has been going behind your back, shutting people up. Bodies have turned up a V carved into their foreheads. Three last night. People are scared of us.”
“Who’s behind it?”
“Another mystery.”
“This is taking too damn long, brother. We need to move faster.” A sense of urgency plagued his senses.
“I don’t need to be reminded.”
Sevastyan glowered at Matteo's retort.
Someone knew something. They only needed to find the right vein to tap using Matteo’s connections to the nightlife that pulsed through the underbelly of this city.
Usually, that meant money needed to exchange hands.
Matteo stayed quiet for a moment. He did that when he had information but hadn’t confirmed it yet. It annoyed the hell out of Sevastyan but, he knew very well nothing he said would pry information from the man before he was ready.
“I’m digging. I have someone in the wings but don’t hold your breath. The detective heading the case likes to play games. A detective Vincent. She’s refused every kind of vice I push her way. A real stickler for rules and shit. She pulls the classified information card with me at every fucking turn. No one wants to play nice and the trail, if there was one to begin with, is getting colder by the fucking hour, man. Honestly, I don’t know.” Matteo rubbed at the place between his brows. “Seems pointless to continue some days.”
That didn’t sound like Matteo. Between the four of them, Matteo came off as the tenacious one.
A frown flitted across Sevastyan’s face. He stood and walked back to where Matteo sat and reached for the bottle on the middle table.
“For the time we had her, she made me feel less of a monster.”
Sevastyan didn’t know what made him admit such truth and he appreciated it when Matteo opted to answer with only an understanding nod.
He didn’t know how the cards would fall or what would come slithering out the more rocks they overturned in hunting a killer. Putting Seraphina in the middle of that wouldn’t work.
He’d take a bullet to the head first.
