She wanted some of her own but knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Millions of questions banked on the back of her tongue, ready to spill out like alphabet confetti despite the fear that trickled into her veins on a steady drip for the last hour.
Self-preservation had her eyes darting to the only exit unfortunately blocked by the wall of muscle in front of her.
Sevastyan caught her gaze with his penetrating glare. Danger or not, part of her couldn’t help but wonder what his muscular form would look spread out on a bed of white sheets.
Silence hung between them, but she swore these men did more talking than most with the intense stares they used to glue her to where she stood.
Rhia swallowed hard and wrestled every drop of self-dignity left in her body away from the temptation to beg for mercy and instead lifted her chin high.
The man oozed anger and had a toughness about them that no fancy suit could suave over.
Like a sleeping cobra, Sevastyan hid his true self under a deceptive calm. Even in the low light, she noticed the swirling anger in their eyes and the sheet of false patience that covered both men’s expressions.
Here goes nothing.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I only needed to see a friend.” She masked her nerves with a sultry laugh.
Sevastyan tossed his jacket on the end of the desk. “I see.” His expression turned dark. “And who did you come here to see, kroshka?”
A small humorless quirk of a smile played on his lips. If she ran, he would catch her. The way he watched her every minute movement made her believe she wouldn’t make it an inch from this desk until they allowed her to move.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry for disturbing your evening. I’ll return to the main floor now and finish out my shift.” She took a step to her right, intent on leaving, and just like she feared, a steel band clamped around her middle and yanked her back into place.
Surprise forced a yelp from her.
“Going somewhere, cariña?”
Sweetheart? God, he made dying sound so sexy.
When she didn’t answer Matteo laughed deeply and it pulled an invisible string attached to the dread in the pit of her stomach. Damn him.
Matteo pressed his body closer to hers, tracing a finger along the side of her cheek. His body encased hers, cutting off any hopes of leaving here unscathed.
“I guess not.”
She didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but there it was. Fear of death did funny things to the brain. And so did lust.
Matteo let out a soft chuckle, his busy hands brushing over her shoulder and down the outside of her bare arm.
“Claro que no, amor,” he murmured and God did it sound equal parts sexy and scary. Because while his voice did things to her body, it also sent up red flags in her mind.
From in front of her Sevastyan’s expression shifted from pissed off to inquisitive to downright devilish in a blink of an eye. The exchange had been fast, but she picked up the glint in his piercing eyes. He’d used it on her earlier that evening, and she hadn’t mistaken the meaning then nor now.
He angled his head low and leaned in. “Tell me something. What piques your interest so much to risk your job? Your life, moyakroshka?” Rolled ‘R’s and soft vows hit her ears. Being agitated made his accent thicker. At the same time there was a sharp edge to his voice as he cast a glance over her shoulder.
Of God. Her head spun. She gripped the edge of the desk as tightly as she could and held in a cringe as pain jolted through her fingers. Channeling her inner Sharon Stone grew harder by the minute.
Kroshka? When the sweet endearment came from Sevastyan’s lips, the little pet name came off as a cloaked threat. If the set of his shoulders didn’t give it away, the growl in his voice did.
She forced a tight smile to sell her lie, but the crease in his brow only deepened. Sweet endearment or not, the power of his wrath wasn’t in his words, but his actions.
She swallowed down an embarrassing whimper.
“You,” she whispered, unable to meet their eyes. “I’m here for you.”
Instead, her attention drew to his side where he slowly tucked a hand into his pocket.
“Both of you.” She might as well go all in.