Ear pressed to the door again, she listened.
“Thank God.” Only silence came through. If she made it out of here, a midnight stop-over for mass and a confessional session sat firmly in her future.
She caught sight of the clock she’d heard chime early from the corner of the office. Security would be making their rounds in a few minutes. After a night of tequila, a game of truth or dare, and more tequila coupled with Indigo’s inability to hold her liquor, Rhia had walked away with a wealth of information. Like which guard liked to break the rules when he thought no one was looking. And why she picked tonight for her breaking and entering. Information truly was the most destructive weapon a person could wield.
She mentally ran over the blueprints and her own knowledge of the building’s layout. Nothing in them suggested secret entrances, but they did mark the normal routes through the weaving and ever-turning hallways. To the left—and the way she’d ascended to the offices—she’d run into a guard or worse, Volkov for sure.
To the right, she’d still be caught by the guards at the bottom of the stairs who ensured the higher echelon of the one-percenters had their own ‘special’ section of the club. The inner politics of the club still baffled her on a good day, but she knew one thing. Only a few of the hostesses made the cut to tend to clientele on the second level and she wasn’t one of them.
Rhia crouched, trying to cling to the darkest parts of the room, and slipped out of Volkov’s office. Relief filled her the second she heard the door click into place behind her. At some point, while she’d been on the inside someone had turned the lights off.
Careful not to tip anything over or risk more secret compartments popping open, Rhia patted around in the darkness until her fingers brushed against cold brass. A couple of twists and a low light filled the room. Anyone could forget to turn off a lamp so leaving it on didn’t bother her. At least now she wouldn’t run into any walls.
“Imagine seeing such a lovely creature emerge from the darkness.”
Russian accent. Sevastyan. Shit.
“Imagine indeed, hermano.”
Spanish accent. Matteo.
Rhia’s heart stopped.
Two rich, masculine voices from behind her froze Rhia in her tracks. Some days she questioned her reason to be put on this earth. Nothing ever seemed to work out for her.
She turned her head until a white crisp shirt came into view. Her gaze climbed to find the darkest set of whiskey eyes rimmed with a set of thick, black lashes.
“Mr. Volkov.”
To her right stood Matteo. His eyes grew dark as midnight yet just as sexy and penetrating as Sevastyan’s.
Both men stepped into the light, their attention narrowed down to one thing in that room.
Her.
Rhia stiffened.
She’d never been one for theatrics but she couldn’t deny one thing. She had little reason to trust the men’s calm voice and all the reason on God’s green earth to fear their wrath.
Sevastyan pitched his head to the side, eyes fiery. “Moya kroshka, mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing?”