I swallow, feeling my pulse race. It’s okay, it’s not like they know who I am or can read my thoughts.
I stroke the pads of my fingers over the pulse point in my wrist. It grounds me. Reminds me to breathe when my nerves soar.
I know the one facing me. Gregor Zakharov. Russian mafia. Dirty blonde, green piercing eyes and looks about as friendly as a hungry bear.
We stay like this, staring at each other for several heartbeats. It’s only seconds probably but it feels longer. Those green eyes of his are unwavering. The man to his side turns and now I have the fierce attention of two mafia men.
Jesus. They are intense.
The second man is Lev Pavolov. The name is all too familiar. There are not many nights when the news isn’t filled with one or all of the Southern Alliance men. Absurdly good-looking. Black hair, startling dark eyes. While the pure heat on his friend’s face makes me curious about my darker desires, this one uses his body language to say the second I’m close enough I’ll regret ever letting him near my virginity.
Heat fuses every blood cell in my veins. Fire licks up my body and I can’t tell if I like the burn of the flames or if I should fear them.
With all the curtains drawn back, my reflection catches in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors encompassing the entire span of the room, hence the name. I see what they see. The lust glimmering in my eyes. My lips part and crimson flushes my cheeks.
“Ma’am, if you’ll follow me, please,” the hostess says, but I don’t move.
I can’t. Curiosity flickers over their expressions and reflects in mine.
The mirrors don’t lie.
My heart hammers in my chest when they move to stand. I watch their fingers drop to the buttons for their jackets. Are they coming over here?
Move Sapph. Do something.
My inner voice is right, but I’m trapped.
There’s usually a third with them. Elyah Morozov. The leader of the Southern Alliance. Brutal, bloodthirsty, and a real son-of-a-bitch. Harlon’s words are cut-throat when he speaks about his rival. I wouldn’t know. Gossip and hearsay aren’t good methods to measure others.
But he’s not here, I notice. It’s just his two friends. From several feet away I can see the muscles in their jaws flex, hungry intentions burning in their stares.
They start to move in my direction.
Are they coming over here? Yes, they are. Oh, God.
My pulse soars.
Lev says something to Gregor that has them changing course and sitting down again.
Wait. What? No. Damn it. What just happened? My blood pressure tanks.
When the tension breaks and the shock and intensity of their gazes shift, I feel like I can breathe again.
Get a grip, Sapph.
“Ms. Constantine. Are you okay?”
The sound of my name breaks the spell fully.
“Yes? Oh, um, yes.” I fall into reality and let me just say it sucks balls.
“Right this way, please.”
Belle stands and I make my way to her. Her long blonde hair is swept away from her heart-shaped face and there’s happiness written all over her expression.
I’d hate her if I didn’t love her so damn much.
I know for a fact Harlon will be happy for her, too, if she ever gets some steel into her spine and fesses up about what she’s been doing and with whom. But the fear of being black-balled keeps her lips sealed. Given how the family treated Harlon for the same kind of relationship, we both know she’s not wrong. Not from Harlon. She’s just afraid of big brother going into protective mode.
“I’ll leave you now, Ms. Constantine. Enjoy your stay with Club Sin.”
There for a minute, I thought the death card from the tarot reader might have been right. Too bad. I thought maybe tonight would be different and change was on its way. Disappointment fills me, but I remember my manners. “Thank you.”
I silently hope the first thing Belle notices is my new evening gown and not the markings on my throat. I weave through the low tables and sofas positioned throughout the room and accept Belle’s hug when I reach her booth.
But she goes for neither and instead picks up on the vibes passing between me and the Southern Alliance.
“What the heck was that about?”
She glances over her shoulder but I pull her back around.
“Never mind. It was nothing. Probably mistaken identity.” The same war going on inside me worsens. Being near them and not acting is killing me. I shove down my desires and school my expression.
“Liar. I’m not blind, Sapph. I see them every night, too. Harlon would kill over if he knew we were here with the Southern Alliance three tables over.”
It takes a huge amount of energy to not roll my eyes. I am so damn tired of all the borders and mafia feuds. “What? You scared of your brother now?”
From the outside looking in, she is the perfect example of a spoiled member of Constantine royalty. But I know the real her. She’s as dirty as she is sweet.
“Yeah right!” she scoffs.
I give a low laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
“Good deflection. But, come on. I see that fuck me look on your face. You wanna do the nasty with those three.” She gestures behind her and I grab her hand again, this time holding on to it.
“Belle!” I hiss. “Can you try to be a little louder?”
I let my knees turn to water. They’ve been threatening to give under my weight for a while now so I give in, utterly exhausted. And I don’t think I can hold a straight face for much longer.
My weight sinks into a plush cushion and I sigh. Thank God the high dividers between the booths block me from view when we sit down.
“What? Tell me I’m lying.”
This is why we are best of friends. I know the true her. The one with the kinky desires and filthy dreams and she knows my darkest secrets.
Despite all the smiles and cute selfies, the three Navy SEALs she’s performing with tonight have no idea she’s in love with them. I can’t imagine performing a sex show with men you have feelings for and not being able to express them beyond the time on the stage.
I throw my thoughts into reverse. That’s not entirely true. My inner voice of reality calls my attention to a fact I try to ignore inside these walls. Every night this week I’ve been in the same room with a trio of mafia men that have no idea I would strip for them the second they commanded it. No love needed.