Chapter Ten
Sevastyan turned, giving her his back.
“Gather your things, Ms. Carmichael. You’re fired.”
She moved a half step back and swayed by the sudden onslaught of adrenaline.
Matteo’s fingers wrapped around both her arms, steadying her before she had a chance to catch her breath.
She pressed her fingers against her lips and offered a small apologetic smile. “This shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered, hoping her heavy breaths masked her spoken thoughts. “I’m so sorry. But please. I need this job.”
Matteo peered down at her, his dark eyes unreadable. With every second that passed she could feel his anger rise and the longer they shared the same air, the tighter his grip became around her arms. Not to the point of pain but at the same time she knew breaking away wouldn’t be an option. He had total control of her. And if she wanted to be entirely honest, she liked it.
She flinched at the flash of distrust and regret in his eyes, and she took that as a sign he’d gone too far because in the next second his hands were no longer on her.
“You’re right. That shouldn’t have happened. Vastyan and I take full responsibility.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. That was the last thing she wanted. How foolish could she be?
Her mouth gaped open. He’d spoken softly, but each word struck like Rocky Balboa took a shot at her gut. Humiliation drained the heat from her body and left her cold and shaken.
Her already racing pulse kicked a notch higher. What did he just say? Knocked off balance, she managed only to stare, mouth wide open. Good thing too since she couldn’t find the words to express the epic levels of shock that clamped around her vocal cords. Normally she’d fall back on her ability to breathe through a situation like this. Like when she was confronted by a robber with a gun wanting her car in downtown Chicago on Christmas Eve a few years back. Yeah, been there, never want to do that again.
She quickly regained her composure though, and her mouth thinned into a tight line of anger.
“I need this job.” No lie. But her words fell on deaf ears. Or, they simply did not care.
Her thoughts ran to her phone and the evidence she had there. Blackmail really didn’t sit within her wheelhouse…then again. Seemed like a good option. But what did she have? Some names in a book, a few shots of a room in the basement. Probably nothing that would raise an eyebrow with any authority.
“I’m good at my job. The clients love me and I’ll do whatever you need.”
Sevastyan turned.
She studied his face to try to get a bead on what he was thinking. Again, no dice. He held everything about himself so close no one in the club knew more than a handful of details about him, if that. It was probably what fueled all the rumors. Everyone needed something to fill the void of the unknown.
At this point, she’d have to use a damn crowbar to pry even the slightest of emotions from him. She tracked Matteo moving back where he lowered his weight onto the desk. His bare chest drew her eyes next but she quickly looked away.
“Mr. Volkov, please reconsider.”
Sevastyan’s gaze never left hers and frankly, it terrified her.
“You are playing a dangerous game, kroshka, dangerous for you and me.” He took in her ruffled appearance before drawing his eyes back to hers.
Confusion had her mouth parting slightly. What the heck did that mean? “I’m not the one who ate me and then fired me in the same breath. I don’t know what you’re playing at here.” She looked between both men. If this was it, she might as well go out with a flurry of glory.
He batted her observation away as if meaningless.
“Seraphina.” Matteo rolled her name around as if sampling fine wine, his Spanish accent lending an exotic sound to the vowels. “When it comes to those under our care, we don’t play games.” He matched her posture, leaning toward her.
Slowly, she dipped two fingers into the front of her ridiculously small skirt and produced the slip of paper Maya had given her earlier. His eyes tracked her every movement, nothing went unnoticed.
“Honest. Though true I hoped to run into you, I meant what I said about the note for Indigo.”
Sevastyan plucked the paper from her fingers and read over the black slashes of ink that formed the name of a client who frequented the club.
“I see.” His voice lowered to that of a husky whisper, his expression becoming heavy with what she wanted to say was concern but could easily be mistaken for indifference.
“Club rules state any employee seeing a client of Haven’s is grounds for dismissal.”