Dark Mafia Kings by Penelope Wylde

Chapter Sixteen

Rhia woke in a sweaty daze later that evening.

She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes and tried to chase away the bad dreams that plagued her sleep. For several days now she’d dreamed of running through one dark street after another, her uniform restricting her breathing. Ugh. And every time she closed her eyes someone from the shadows mirrored her every step. The growls and whispers felt so real and carried along the cobwebs of sleep still clinging to her mind. It was with relief that Rhia grabbed her phone and saw the late hour. She tossed aside the tangled sheets at her feet and sat up. The sinister sounds weaving along her senses caused goose bumps to rise along her flesh.

Their identity felt damn familiar, just out of reach. She rubbed at her eyes but the faint images only faded more. Premonitions never were a thing of truth for her, but she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of dread sitting in her stomach.

She cupped her face and groaned. She honestly didn’t think she could do this another night, much less actually find a killer. After a few more moments of gathering herself, she pushed off the bed and padded into the kitchen to find Maya gone. Moving through the silent apartment, Rhia’s mind left behind the bad dreams and clicked over the last couple of days. The unexpected time with Sevastyan and Matteo. Of Matteo. God that man. She loved being taken like that. He’d been so filled with passion and a hot, burning lust for her she still felt breathless. Arrogant bastard. She chewed at a hangnail. Next time she’d be the one throwing him against the wall. A bench. Whatever. Bastard would probably get off on it. A small smile slipped over her lips at the shock that would break his constant stoic expression if she managed such a thing.

More entanglements with that man—any of them—was the last thing she needed. She couldn’t forget about her brothers and the problem they presented. They already called and now that she’d answered they wouldn’t be so patient for her to get back to them in New York City. They had to be drowning in paperwork. But she couldn’t leave. Not yet.

“I’m close. So close.” She gripped the handle of the fridge until her fingers cramped in protest. She’s managed to get herself this far and with a little more patience and digging the truth would be found. She just knew it. But she needed to dig faster. A hell of a lot faster.

She swung open the fridge and stood there in the cool air. The bright light radiated through the dark kitchen and for a long moment Rhia forgot about food and simply absorbed the cool air.

A flick of yellow caught her eye, and she retrieved the orange juice the sticky note was attached to.

In Maya’s familiar scribble the note read:

See you tonight at work. Thanks for the drinks, babe.

At the bottom of the note read: And maybe next time we’ll get you laid, love.

Juice in hand, Rhia leaned against the fridge door and chuckled. If her friend only knew just how fucked she already was.

Skipping breakfast—dinner for people who followed a traditional day—Rhia made quick work of her mundane routine. Half an hour later she welcomed Haven’s air conditioning against her heated skin. This time she’d opted to drive. In a weak moment, she’d plucked down a few dollars for a late model that blended with the rest of the working-class citizens duking it out over minimum wage. Most nights she preferred the walk, but the news promised more rain.

Rhia sighed when she saw the dressing room empty. The open-styled room didn’t afford much privacy for dressing so she made sure to arrive early and slip into her evening’s attire before anyone else arrived.

Outfitted in her leather bodice—with a new sash up the front—her too-short leather skirt and killer heels that made her legs look a mile long, she claimed her small two-by-three section and set to work on her makeup.

“There you are.” Indigo slipped into the room and closed the door behind her in a hushed snick.

Long red hair neatly combed and swooshed back in an elegant braid, shimmering gray smoky eyes, and an elegant black pantsuit made the woman look like she belonged on some catwalk or as a powerful CEO position, not an executive assistant in a sex club.

“Hey there. Maya and I missed you for drinks last night.”

Indigo’s expression was tight when she leaned in and kissed Rhia on the cheek.

“Yes, well, business called.” Indigo waved a hand absentmindedly and slid a hip against her table. This close she could smell the rich aroma of her perfume.

She folded her arms across her ample chest and leaned in a fraction.

“Did you hear?”

Rhia noted the light lilt of Irish that still clung to the woman’s words with a hint of her roots. But after years of living abroad, it had diminished to where you had to pay close attention to catch the clue.

Rhia lowered her mascara brush and turned her full attention to Indigo. Worry lines scrunched perfectly trimmed brows, but the sad look in her friend’s eyes pulled Rhia’s gut into a knot. “Hear what?” Had something happened to Maya?

Indigo studied her for a moment before answering. “Another girl has gone missing.”

Ice water spilled into her veins. “Who?”

Before Indigo could answer a knock came at the door and they whirled around to find the door ajar.

“Señorita Carmichael?” Came a familiar deep voice.

Panic ate at her insides with a vengeance. “Yes? You can come in. Everyone is dressed,” she forced out, standing.

Maddox stepped out of the shadowed hallway and through the door. “You need to follow me.” No please, just a fact that she would do as he said.

She sent a startled look to Indigo, who took a half step closer and muttered, “What’s going on? Why is Maddox here?” She gestured toward the door. “What did you do?”

Rhia shrugged and hoped the small movement would dissolve the trickle of fear that skittered up her spine. She reached behind her and replaced the mascara in her hand for her cell phone. If anything went down, she would activate the GPS locator so her brothers could find her body wherever Sevastyan decided to dump it.

At least Adryan knew where she was. She leaned on that fact, small as it was. “I’m not sure,” she managed.

The man stood, blank-faced. No real surprise there. The lug’s stoic stone-cold face gave away about as much as a brick wall did. “Mr. Volkov is waiting. Follow me.” He made a wide gesture with his hand and stepped to the side for her to do as he requested.

It looked like she didn’t have much of an option. She approached. “Mind telling me what this is all about?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hmm.

She gave him a tremendous smile and tried another angle as she followed mister dark, grim, and broody deeper into the club down a closed-off corridor. “Any idea why I’m being summoned so I don’t walk into the wolf’s den unaware?” Like a guilty person, she wanted to add but kept that thought to herself.

A soft rumble of what she wanted to consider a laugh sounded in the small corridor. When they came to the end of the hallway, her escort waved a beefy hand on an otherwise empty wall which made a panel slide open to reveal a secret keypad.

Bright light bathed them as a hidden door slid open.

A secret elevator? Wow.

Reaching inside, Maddox pressed the up button and gestured her inside.  With a couple of jabs, he punched in a code and stepped back. Faster than she could process, she was whooshed upward three floors and the ding of the door was the only thing that prepared her for what came next.

Standing in a pool of light by the elevator doors, his bright eyes connected with hers. She clasped her hand in front of her and fought to ignore the way he filled in the black dress shirt or how a rush of heat bloomed across her cheeks and traveled to settle between her legs.

With his hands tucked in his pockets, Sevastyan greeted her. “Ms. Carmichael. Thank you for coming.”

Crisp, cool, in control. And pure alpha.

“Didn’t have much of a choice.”

She recognized the bookcase and the dark leathered sofa in the backdrop from the previous night. Somehow, she’d missed an elevator opened directly into his office. She filed that away for reference along with the five-digit code the guard had used.

Rhia laced her fingers in front of her and considered the limited option within her grasp. Limited being an understatement.

“You can refuse my invitation to join me, but I doubt you’ll want to miss this.” A smile pushed full lips back to reveal a row of white teeth.

She shuffled from one foot to the other, eyes wide. She responded out of habit of countering her brothers at every turn. “I don’t remember there actually being an invitation issued. I was more like forced and given cold stares of indifference from your head of security.” Momentarily baffled, Rhia planted her feet to the middle of the elevator and refused to move.

She eyed the panel of buttons to her right.

“Maddox does his job well, doesn’t he?”

She didn’t bother with the rhetorical question. Amber eyes spiked with a deeper color held her attention, his deep, rich voice like dark whiskey against her hearing. If this was a prelude to how her evening was about to play out, she had bigger problems than she first thought.

“Either join me or pack your things. Your choice.”

She smoothed her hands down her skirt. She wasn’t fool enough to be disarmed by his light chuckle or the way he held his hand out to her, palm up, waiting like he knew what she would choose. But the woman inside of her wanted to believe the warm gestures were genuine.

She waited for a solid two heartbeats before placing her shaky hand in his. Warm. And oddly comforting.

With little encouragement, knots in her stomach tightened and served like a noose around her veins, spiking her blood pressure into triple digits as her palm glided against his rougher one. She knew for a fact her hands trembled, but hopefully he wouldn’t mention it.

She slipped her tongue out to wet her bottom lip, and his gaze dipped to watch the act.

Her hand in his, palm against palm she placed one foot in front of the other, aware of the man taking graceful strides beside her. Leading deeper into his office, his shoulder brushed against hers. Firm. Too firm. He was like a rock.

Memories of his tongue on her tripped through her memories.

Careful to keep a safe distance from him, she fell a couple of paces behind him as he led her deeper into his office.

“Please, take a seat.” He slipped his hand from beneath hers and gestured to one of the chairs across his desk. “Anything you want to share, Ms. Carmichael?”

She swallowed the boulder-sized lump in her throat. Right straight to the point, she supposed. What point that was exactly still eluded her at the moment.

“About? You’re the one who ‘invited’ me here, remember?” She narrowed her eyes at his back as he turned from her to pace toward the wide expanse of windows overlooking the city. He probably missed her air quotes so she made sure to add more snark to her tone. “If you’ve called me up here to play a round of charades you’ll be sorry to find I suck at it, Mr. Volkov.”

His gaze darkened on hers. “Sevastyan. Let me hear you say it.” His voice grew husky and she felt the warmth of her core remember what he sounded like when he commanded she climax for him.

Panic wanted to take over. Out of instinct or her gut reaction to the intense darkness of his eyes, she wasn’t entirely sure. She worked to keep her reaction to him from entering her eyes or tense the muscles in her shoulders. Her brother once told her it was the first clue that tipped him off when making a business deal. She sat on the edge of the chair and opted not to cross her legs in the short skirt that pulled high on her thighs.

Sevastyan strode back to his desk, tossed a folder on the wide expanse of wood between them that caused a piece of paper to flutter.

Her eyes widened. Oh shit. Not paper. Cardboard, she corrected herself. Her gaze narrowed on a familiar matchbook with crinkled edges. Her matchbook. Ice replaced the blood in her veins. Air became heavier than a ton of lead in her lungs. He’d found it. Think Rhia. Could he ID it as hers?

“What’s this?” She passed over the matchbook and picked up the folder, forcing her nerves into submission. She slowly peeled back the front flap of the folder to find a picture of herself staring back. Only not the real her. It was the picture she’d taken in order to apply for her place here as hostess.

“It says here you hold a bachelor’s in political science and another in business. Pretty impressive for a cocktail waitress.”

She stared back at Sevastyan over the top of her fake résumé to see a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

Every word on that resume was a lie written in black and white. She knew accounting forward and backward. When other girls played with dolls and planned fake tea parties, she kicked back in the grass and ran numbers in her head, and solved equations longhand when she got bored. After graduating with her bachelor’s degree in accounting, she’d taken over as head accountant for Crowne shipping. Numbers were her life. Until now.

She was going to kill Adryan and his overzealous attention to the finer details of her name change. His affection for dotting every ‘I’ and crossing every ‘T’ would end with her in more trouble than she’d placed herself in. She’d wanted to stop at high school education and some college, nothing that would set off alarms.

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and tracked his return to the window. Night had fallen long ago, and light from the surrounding building poured through the windows.

“I was visiting a friend for the summer and decided to earn a little money to help pay off the student loans. They have a way of warping one’s progress in life.” She sighed heavily. “Apparently in today’s society, a degree or two doesn’t mean promised success no matter who you know.”

He stood peering down at her, hands thrust into his pockets. A common sight she’d learned. “And do you know many people, Ms. Carmichael?”

She shrugged the warning bells that went off in her head. Too late to do anything about them anyway. “Much to my disadvantage I do not know many of the right people.” Another truth.

She held his gaze as he shifted his large body toward her, his hands in his pockets, shoulders pinned back.

Her thoughts were in a tangle. She sifted through them quickly and pulled up a universal truth he couldn’t hold against her. “Student loans have a way of making a girl do things she never thought about.” His scent, strong, masculine and pure alpha, twined around her thoughts for a moment, blocking out all but one. Something in him pulled her to him. If that wasn’t enough to send her over the edge of sanity, then the second most prominent thought would.

She wanted the feel of his tongue on her body again.

She cleared her throat and curled her fingers around the folder with a little too much force, but she didn’t care. Focused on the words, she read and reread the first lines on the paper, determined not to let her undeniable and misplaced arousal to the man take the reins.

“You’re right. Money is synonymous with control. Here, out there. Doesn’t matter where or for what.” His voice was a smooth, deep rumble. He spoke as if stating a truth everyone understood and accepted. He wasn’t wrong.

She turned until their gazes connected and held her hands out, palms up. “You’re proof of that.”

Unlike her brothers, when Sevastyan talked—or listened—she couldn’t decipher his mood or the amount of danger he posed. So, she had to go on what she could measure. Fine lines crinkled the skin around his eyes, and faint shadows clung to the skin beneath his eyes.

“This place exists on both. Money and control.” She cast her eyes to the ceiling and chuckled. “It’s the utmost evil commodity this world operates in, only matched by that of sex and its value, wouldn’t you agree?” She measured his reaction. The way his eyes glittered with controlled yet piqued interest in her words. The firm line of his lips and the way his hands stayed relaxed in his pockets. Strike a nerve, did she?

The amount of money that flowed through here had to be in the hundreds of thousands—millions even. Illegal money at that, she would bet her life it was what filled his bank account and paid for those fancy suits he wore and the caviar that no doubt lined their pantries in their million-dollar penthouses. What would he do if someone threatened that profit margin? Murder?

“Sex and money afford the wealthy power over the weak. That you have to agree with, I’d say.”

He looked into her eyes for several long moments, the stark light and shadows of the evening cutting across his face.

He said nothing in his defense, no explanation of his thoughts. Instead, he grunted and it made her hand itch to reach out and knock a few more syllables out of him. The fact his expression was a mask of indifference didn’t help.

He smoothed his hand down his jaw considering her for long seconds. “I’ve come to a final decision. You’ll need to collect your things, Ms. Carmichael.”

Great. She’d gone too far. Pushed too fast in her hunt for answers. “Sir. Sevastyan” Her heart kicked into high gear and hammered steadily between her eyes as blood rushed in her ears. She stood with a burst of energy and crossed to stand in front of him. They’d been in a similar position before with her begging for her job. Even with her in stilettos, he stood a good three inches taller, but she didn’t back down. “I need this job.” She reached out and placed over his.

He slowly stepped from her reach, a whisper of something in his gaze she couldn’t be sure she saw. He’d turned away too quickly. “I know, moya kroshka. Still, collect your personal belongings.”

“Wait. Please?”

He was toying with her. She knew it. What did he want? Her to fall to her knees and beg?

She prepared to do just that, every cell in her body ready to weep and curse, but her phone gave a low trill.

She locked her knees, going the exact opposite of what she intended.

“Do you need to take that? I can wait.” His stance radiated arrogance. He pointed to the flashing device in her hand.

“I didn’t mean to bring it. I was getting ready for the evening and when your thug—” Both his brows shot up at her description of the stone-cold security guard he’d sent to collect her.

Her shoulders slumped in half defeat and the other half in frustration. “I mean when your guard came to the dressing room. I grabbed it.”

“I see.”

The phone went off again, and she ate the curses that slipped off her tongue. With a couple of flicks, she put the phone on mute where it would stay forever, damn it.

“After you collect your belongings from the main floor, return and I’ll personally walk you through your new tasks as my assistant, Ms. Carmichael.”

He kept repeating her name, like a tease of something to come.

Her brows knitted in puzzlement. Wait. What did she just hear? What the hell kind of game was this man playing at? She gave herself a mental shake.

“If you agree to your new position and pay raise, you’ll work alongside me and be accompanied by one of us at all times. That shouldn’t be too hard, right, kroshka?”

Now she knew he taunted her.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll put that business degree to work after all.”

“I won’t be alone?”

He shook his head.

“You don’t trust easily, do you? You like to play mind games and keep everyone guessing after you. Never let anyone know what you’re really thinking.” She didn’t intend to throw her last words out like an accusation, but there it was.

She chewed at her lower lip and swore under her breath at her impulsive nature. Her father warned her she’d step into the deep end sooner or later with her inability to squelch her impulsiveness.

He considered her with a dark expression for long seconds before he spoke in a soft, gruff voice thick with his rolling Russian accent. “Trust is earned. I’d like to work on that. We would like to work on that. With you.”

She held her breath, processing his words.

In his world trust built the very foundation this place was built on. Every sexual exchange of pleasure, every woman who submitted to a DOM, every sigh and moan all came from a place of trust. So what did he mean by wanting to build trust with her?

“When would you need me, Vastyan?” She heard the husk in her words and let him pick them up as he wished. Because in that second, every ounce of doubt washed away to reveal a naked truth she was hiding from herself.

She realized she’d do anything to find the truth, even if it meant sleeping with the enemy.

Slow and steady, Rhia inhaled deeply, letting the cool air of the room fill every pore of her body. His attention locked on her and when his gaze captured hers she knew every word that came out of her mouth needed measured, every movement calculated because he would hold her to each one. This was a man that didn’t miss a detail or a meaning and she needed to remember that.

“Immediately.” He drew out the single word as he reached across his desk for the phone.

She held a hand up. The golden ticket was in front of her. All she had to do was reach out and take it. This was the in she needed. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Not like this.”

He cradled the phone that connected him to Indigo, she assumed, her abrupt refusal hanging between them. A gram of raw uranium seemed more stable.

“What I meant is that I’ll need to change, but I’m sorry. I don’t have proper office attire with me at the moment. I doubt my hostess uniform is fitting when not on the main floor.” She gestured at her tight leather skirt and low-riding bodice, his gaze following every movement of her hands along her body with a look of untethered hunger. And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Understanding dawned and a slow smile captured his lips. Out of nowhere, she understood Maya’s reference to orgasm by proxy. Beautiful arrogant man. She wanted to slap him and kiss him. In that order. She shrugged and played off her irritation.

He punched a couple of buttons. “Indigo, can you join us for a moment please?”

Rhia turned as her friend entered the room, her gaze going to her first and then their boss.

“Sir?”

“I think you keep an extra set of evening clothes on hand, no?”

“Yes, sir.” Indigo excused herself to retrieve the items, leaving the door half ajar.

Volkov turned to her.

“This is moving a little fast,” she informed him with what she hoped came off as a facsimile of a smile. In all honesty, it felt fake with the way her nerves jittered.

“You’ll accompany Lucian and Matteo onto the floor since Indigo is retiring early this evening and will not be able to attend your first night of training.”

She wondered if Indigo was aware of her early evening.

He crossed to stand in front of her slowly moving around her.

In a slow drag, he trailed a finger from the edge of her shoulder around to the center of her back to dip between her shoulder blades.

She shuddered; her breath held tight in her lungs. She didn’t dare breathe in.

The hiss of a zipper’s teeth hit her ears, and the release of pressure around her middle and breasts caught her off guard. She clutched the corset to her chest, her nipples hard against the leather. She had no intention of a repeat of the last time she was in his office, but Sevastyan tore emotions from her. Feelings she had no business entertaining. Images of submissives and the desire-filled euphoria she’d witnessed on their faces at the hands of their masters filled her mind. Could she lose herself like that? Trust herself to Sevastyan? To any of them?

A soft click brought her around and her eyes landed on… “Indigo?”

Standing by the office door, clothes in hand, her friend stared back at her. Sevastyan nowhere to be found.

“Oh, um, thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else she should say as she took the clothes.

Her friend crossed the room, the worried look on her face contorting her normally perfect brows into a harsh line.

“Are you sure about this?”

Rhia didn’t know what to say. No was on the tip of her tongue. “Yes. You don’t need to worry.” She would do that enough for both of them.

Indigo handed over an evening gown that had Rhia’s eyes widening. “How come I’ve never seen this on you?”

“Because it wasn’t intended for here. Now back to you. You do know the reputation that follows the four mafia kings, right? These men kill if they don’t get what they want.”

“He can’t be all that bad,” she lied. “You work for him.” She pointed out the obvious, hoping her friend would drop it.

“Beasts bite and I don’t think sweet, little virgin you is ready for this.” She paused. “So you know, they never take anyone to the main floor.” She cocked a hip and planted a hand on her side. “These men are not some high school screw that will do you one time in the back of a car, Seraphina. Sevastyan wants you tied to his bed, and then he wants to sit back and watch his friends fuck you. It’s written all over his face. The kings never separate. You don’t even know if they want to take you in the middle of a full room as people look on or get you behind closed doors. I don’t care what Maya says, this world isn’t for the timid, and sweetheart? You’re both. You should run home to mommy and daddy while you have the chance.”

Those words had ice running through her veins.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Did her friend feel jealous or real fear for her? Rhia couldn’t tell.

Rhia swallowed and pushed the trickle of fear that slipped unnoticed until now into her steel-laced resolve. “You don’t need to worry. Nothing is going to happen. We’re in a building full of people and guards. And I have you, right?”

“You should be careful of the shadows and lies this place holds. You should leave while you can.” She paused, an icy look filling her eyes that had Rhia shivering. “You’ve been warned, girl.”

Rhia pulled back as if slapped across the face.

She counted on this place having secrets.

She hardened her tone. “I can handle my own.”

Indigo’s expression turned eerily grim. “Have it your way.”

Rhia opened her mouth, but a knock came at the door and they both paused.

Rhia wanted to reassure her friend, but all she could do was offer a smile that came nowhere near her true feelings on the subject. With a little more force than she intended, she offered the only reply that did offer a hint of shock at Indigo’s words.

“I promise to be careful.”

“It doesn’t matter much now.” Indigo thrust the dress and shoes into Rhia’s waiting arms. “He said the men will wait for you.” And with that, she left.

Keeping the enemy close just earned a whole new meaning in her book. If Adryan caught wind of her new job title, he’d personally see to it that her brothers found her and showed up on Haven’s front steps.

It didn’t take long for her to transform from risqué to elegant as she shimmied into Indigo’s midnight blue evening gown with a wide cutout back and a deep V-neck that revealed more cleavage than she was accustomed to. With a few twists and tucks, she had her curls under control with a French twist, leaving wispy strands to tease her shoulders.

Rhia stared into the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back. “Well, Rhia. You’re right where you wanted to be. In the Devil’s playpen. Now it’s a game of who gets condemned first.”