And why should they when the kings gave their subjects everything they desired_
Most nights she likened the pull they had on a crowd to damn magic. Eccentric as well as electric. When any of them entered a room, it was as though the entire room gravitated toward them with an invisible force. One couldn’t help it.
“To the Kings!” called out a man from the center of the room, a bottle of vodka raised high. A woman knelt in front of him, taking his cock deep with those around him all holding up a glass in salute. Before the man downed the white liquid all waited for approval from the kings.
And like every night all four raised their own glasses giving the seal of approval for the real fun of the night to begin.
Rhia glanced out over the lavish, silk-draped den of Haven and watched as the night unfolded, shaking away the uninvited intrusion of thoughts about her untouchable bosses.
Cool moonlight poured through the expansive crystal doom to mingle with the halo of soft light from sconces along the walls.
Night after night the constant ebb and flow of arousal teased her senses and played hell with her body. And night after night she saw the four kings watching from the shadows. Never participating, only observers.
With an easy grace Rhia wound through the crowd.
A little digging showed her new bosses had taken over Haven for Sevastyan’s dead brother. They gutted his brother’s brothel and together carved a multimillion-dollar sex club out of a former convent in only a few month-s time. And in doing so, made it the city’s most sought-after entertainment if you had the connection that got you through the door.
Circling the room, she watched as the kings circled the fringes of the first floor.
Keeping an eye on them, she greeted a few incoming members, recognizing faces and noticing new ones. From where she stood the rich, dark flavor of Volkov’s Russian accent carried over the guests as he spoke to a few members by name. All casually watching the orgy taking place toward the center of the room.
She caught a small smile ghost across Roman’s lips at something a scantily clad woman whispered in his ear before she traced a slender, polished fingernail down the front of his suit.
And suddenly Sevastyan fucking Volkov stared right at her. And then Lucian, Roman, and Matteo followed.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She stumbled back in a hasty retreat only to find a cold stone wall at her back.
Stay cool.
She prayed the shadows hid her face as well as she hoped, but she couldn’t be sure. Not with how soft lighting pooled around her from all sides.
Heat of their stares flitted over her like she could physically feel the brush of their hands caressing her exposed body.
She immediately dropped her gaze, shame for all the crap filtering through her mind seizing her lungs. An ache crawled over her chest.
She shoved it away and tightened her fingers around her tray with more strength than she realized. God help her, she knew better than to entertain the forbidden thoughts that clouded her judgment. One wrong move and she would lose everything. Even knowing that Rhia wondered what if. What if her father hadn’t been murdered? What if her life was her own again? And what if the men she lusted after were not the enemy?