Dark Mafia Kings by Penelope Wylde
Chapter Twenty
Her door stood open about five or six inches. Splinters of wood covered the floor and in the middle of that lay what had been her door handle. That was all she could take in before a set of broad shoulders obscured her view.
Roman held a hand up for her to stop. Panic kicked in.
She wasn’t a woman that hid behind men, but at that particular moment she didn’t mind having a barrier between her and whoever decided they had a beef with her door. If they did to her what they did to that piece of wood, there wouldn’t be enough doctors to put her back together.
He turned to her and in a low voice asked, “Did you lock up before you came into work tonight, sweetheart?”
It took a gigantic amount of effort not to roll her eyes at the question. “Of course. I’m not so absentminded I’d forget to lock my front door.”
He nailed her with a mocking eyebrow hitched so high it almost blended with his hairline.
“Wait here,” he ordered when she would have followed him.
“Wait?” Not by herself and not in a darkened hallway. She’d seen that horror movie. “What are you doing?” When he didn’t stop, she uttered a growl.
“Until I know for certain that there’s no danger, wait the fuck here.”
He produced a gun from a holster beneath his suit jacket.
He toed the remnants of her door open in a slow squeak that forced her teeth together until her gums ached. She’d meant to oil that thing but never got to it.
“The light switch is directly to the left four and a half feet up.”
With quick movements, she kicked off her heels and palmed a good amount of her dress so she could move swiftly and follow behind him despite the warning. If there was someone on the inside, she had a fighting chance with Roman standing between them. Out there she was exposed and alone.
He shut the remnants of her door behind him, cutting her off before she could see the damage if any or follow.
Five minutes later he reemerged, a grim look contorting his face. He pulled a sleek black phone from his front pocket.
“Who are you calling? Did you find anything? Was anything taken?”
He tipped her chin up with a gentle finger. “Sevastyan will need to know what’s going on. No. And I don’t know, sweetheart, but you’re not going in there yet.” He dropped his hand only to wind it around her. He drew her to him and held her there. “I know you’re worked up, but you’re not alone. You have nothing to be afraid of while I’m with you.”
She didn’t know why but those words hit her hard in the chest. Not alone? But wasn’t she? Her brothers felt obligated to protect her. Their father damn near made it a family creed, but that didn’t make it done out of love. Did it? Maybe her father’s. Her father had also protected her and loved her in his own way. Money was the solution to everything in his world. He wanted her to feel like his princess. But deep down all she wanted was a father who wanted her and a family that valued her part in it.
Rhia pushed her chin high. “You will not call him. This makes me look so weak.” She cut the air between them with a firm slice of her hand.
“Seraphina,” he began, his expression hard. “This isn’t up for discussion,” he shot back when she tried to argue.
She hadn’t seen this side of him, and it gave a new light to the man she considered the laid back of the group. True, she knew them for all of a few hours, but she’d watched them from a distance for weeks.
“He doesn’t need to concern himself with this, honestly. Nor do you. Nothing the police can’t handle. Probably some punks that thought something of value was inside. I know it wasn’t Maya. She has a key. Is anything disturbed?” She tried to move around him, but he blocked the entire front entrance to her apartment.
Apparently, he didn’t like something she said. He let out a heavy breath of frustration and his mouth looked like he’d bit into a lemon.
She inched closer to the door and rose to the tips of her toes to see the damage. Pillows covered the floor, a few ripped with their stuffing discarded over her entire living room. Even if it wasn’t really her home, she still felt the invasion like a blow to the gut. For a second she felt her heart stop before it began again in an erratic tempo. The stuffing from the pillows led to the kitchen.
The papers. Ice ran through her veins. Torn between being frozen in place and burning to see if they were still tucked away in the kitchen, she opted to take several deep breaths and work for a calm she didn’t feel.
He raised a brow, which she found he did a lot. “You give your keys out to friends.” This time it wasn’t a question.
“Friend. Singular. Sometimes she doesn’t have a place and I let her crash here. Now can I get by? Please? I want to check and see if they took my computer and a few pieces of jewelry.”
He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like a string of curses with utter shock wound around them and if she missed that, the anger in his eyes hadn’t dissipated in the slightest. “The men will lose their shit when they hear this.”
“Before you go calling anyone let me check, okay?” she said in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake the few neighbors she had. The last thing she needed was one of them getting nosy.
Her plea fell on deaf ears, and it irritated her how little he took her wishes into account. The slight ring carried over the speaker after he punched in what she assumed was Sevastyan’s number.
Another thought entered her mind. Oh, God. How did she not see this before? It had to be Sevastyan. He was on to her. Her door would have been like a wet paper towel to any of his men. Could he have known she took the pages from his book? The blood drained from her face and left her cold, shaking. All the time in the world to search her place while he entertained her with a new job and seduced her. She cupped a hand over her mouth. Why did she have to trust so easily? Didn’t she ever learn?
Phone to his ear, Roman held a hand out when she moved to push past him and entered her apartment.
“Wait here. I’m doing one more sweep to be on the safe side.”
As he moved out of sight her phone rang. She edged in and kept an eye on Roman as he moved to the kitchen. He moved by the cabinets where she’d stored the pages she’d stolen.
Her stomach quivered, and she worked her throat past a dry patch that suddenly hindered her ability to speak.
She palmed her phone and on the second ring hit answer. She turned away from Roman as he stomped through her living room and out the back door. “Did you do this, Sevastyan? If there’s something you want to know about me, all you had to do was ask,” she bit out, knowing full well he couldn’t see the pissed-off look on her face. He didn’t have to. It colored her words and dripped so thick he could drown in them.
Ice entered her veins. If tonight she had to throw down and reveal her real purpose, so be it.
“Why the hell would I or any of my men want to break into your home? I’m not in the habit of going behind people’s backs for anything. Now, are you safe? Roman told me everything.”
Of course he did.
She nearly barked out a laugh at the crime bit but held it back just in time. Maybe it was a good thing he did this. She could finally get her answers and get the hell out of here.
“If I’d done it, why would I have Roman take you home? Why would I have given you a job at my side?”
When posed like that she could think of a list of reasons as long as her arm. Revenge. Keeping the enemy close. It was what she would do.
“There’s something you need to understand about me, moya kroshka. When I want something, I take it. I don’t play games or fuck around. Do you hear what I’m saying? My men are the same. We don’t play.”
Yes. No. What did he want from her? “Are you in the habit of getting everything you want?” The question pulled others from the depth of her subconscious too. For instance, what did he want and what did he do with it once he got it?
“Always.” Zero hesitancy came through their connection, and part of her respected his conviction on self-assurance.
As he spoke, she knew deep down this wasn’t done by Sevastyan or his men. This had personal investment written all over it and though she didn’t have much experience dealing with people like the mafia kings—make that zilch—she knew he was telling the truth. He could be guiltier than sin when it came to having a hand in whatever her father was doing with those containers, and all the reason she needed to keep her distance, but she knew for sure this he didn’t do.
She leaned an arm on the broken door frame and found her confidence again. “Why do you keep calling me your little one and the men their sweetheart? I’m neither. It’s confusing.”
“Would you rather we stop?” he asked, voice pitched low. Husky.
Why did he have to ask like that? “Can you tell Roman he can go home now, please?” She used anger and sarcasm to avoid thinking about his question too much. Her answer would probably surprise them both. Besides, she needed to make sure her papers were secure. That no one cracked her passcode and checked her emails to find what she sent to Adryan.
“Only after he’s secured your safety. Not until then.”
Roman returned to the living room and signaled for the phone, his jaw revealing a tic of frustration, impatience. Both, she supposed. Her lips tightened into a thin line of defiance but reluctantly passed it to him. “Here, he wants to talk to you. Then maybe you can leave.”
“I’m wounded you would want me to leave,” Roman threw back, smiling though it held as much humor as she felt.
He put the phone to his ear. “Swept the place. Windows are secured and the back entrance is dark as fuck with a dead end to a neighbor’s back yard with a fence a grandma in a wheelchair could maneuver around. One alleyway four stories down one rickety fire escape.”
Whatever Volkov said made Roman’s brows fall and his eyes shadow to a pitch so dark his blue eyes looked a shade that would scare even the devil. With a gentle touch to her cheek, he excused himself and walked into the back and out of sight and hearing range.
Son of a bitch. If this hadn’t been Sevastyan, then who?
“Understood.”
Roman walked over the debris, cutting off her train of thought, and handed the phone back into her hands. “He wants you, sweetheart.” He came up to stand behind her, his heat welcomed.
She blinked at the statement a couple of times before moving the phone to her ear. “Yes?”
“Roman will stay with you tonight.”
There came that self-confidence that no one would challenge his order again. No question about it. No asking her how she felt having someone invade her space.
“There’s no need for that. I can MacGyver my door back together just fine by myself and if it makes you feel better, Roman can watch over me and then be on his way once it’s done. I’ll pick up a new lock tomorrow.” If she was here.
“Or I come over and, Seraphina?” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, only pausing when he said her name.
“Yes?” she bit out, patience in short supply all of a sudden.
“Neither he nor I will be sleeping on some couch. The only other alternative is for you to return to Haven with him.”
What the holy hell did that mean? Well, she knew what it meant, but what the holy hell? And walk back into the snake pit. No thank you. She wasn’t even sure she would be returning tomorrow. She took stock of her ripped-up apartment and felt bad for the owners when it came time for her to leave. Before that could happen, she would have to fix up the place at least a little for the next person that came after her.
“What do you care? What does it matter to you?” She raised her gaze from her torn pillows and tipped over lamps to Roman. “Either of you?” She honestly didn’t get it.
“Because you’re ours now.”
“And that has earned me a sexy bodyguard?”
“Four to be exact.”
Roman stood beside her now, wearing the biggest grin, his gun tucked away.
“I guess Roman is welcome to stay. I can’t imagine it’s more than some punk kids. But if it would help you sleep tonight then he can have at it on my rock slab of a couch.” She eyed the innards of her pillows at her feet. “I guarantee he won’t be comfortable.”
To her surprise, Sevastyan laughed. A sound that held zero humor. “There’s not much that will help me sleep. But knowing you’re safe will ease my worry. Good luck getting him to sleep anywhere but in your bed tonight. I can’t wait to hear how that goes. I’m already jealous.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
“Sweet dreams, moya kroshka.” She hung up and Roman dipped to his knee, tucked her over it, and stood.” What are you doing?” She demanded.
“Finding your bed. I don’t sleep on couches.”
Sleep was the last thing on her mind.
