Chapter Eleven
They could not have her.
That fact drove his fist into the wall of his office the next evening causing bits of stone and dirt to explode on impact. He struck again, craving the bloody pain.
Chest heaving, Sevastyan hung his head. She was a vision, an oasis in the middle of his personal hell. Legs that would turn a priest against his vows, long, thick curly hair that spilled down an elegant back, and lips he craved to devour slow and easy.
Beautiful. Compassionate and maybe innocent. Who the fuck cared? She would be gone by tomorrow. He’d call his assistant in and have her hand Seraphina her termination papers and be done with it. Fuck what he said. His friends—his brothers—could fuck off.
Sevastyan stood, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, and watched the bank of monitors fixed to the back wall of his office. Each camera spread throughout the main floor and halls of Haven fed him information and he scoured each of them for a glimpse of her. To make sure no one bothered her, he lied to himself.
He spotted her signature walk on camera four. The way she moved with a graceful elegance through the scantily clothed crowd drew his eye every night. Too fucking young and innocent for the likes of men like them.
But her eyes told another story. One of a woman who had seen the horrors of life.
He moved away to the window and a safer view that didn’t tempt him. Resting his considerable weight on his elbow, he looked out over restless downtown Chicago and absentmindedly rubbed the pad of his thumb across the lip of his tumbler.
Her cryptic answer to how she knew people so well rolled over and over in his mind.
The way she thumbed the cross around her neck set him on edge. Damn woman had fear written all over her. And rightly so. He’d scented it the second he’d hit the third floor and it still clung to the walls, driving him fucking crazy.
Over the past five months, he’d leaned into the dark reputation that came with the Volkov name. Spilling blood came as natural to him as breathing air. No one crossed lines with him or his men. But seeing those unshed tears glitter in her eyes and knowing he put them there to begin with did shit to his gut that made the whole fucking world seem off-kilter.
The man in him craved to step in, take control and erase whatever misconception she had of him. He didn’t want to be the monster the world forced him to be.
Not for her.
It took colossal strength to hold back.
And it still wasn’t enough.
He tore a hand through his hair.
Fuck. He couldn’t help himself.
How had this beautiful creature branded him so damn fast? Hell if he knew, but he’d enjoyed every second of it.
He pulled one of Haven’s matchbooks from his pocket. One could be found on every table in the place, but what was scribbled on the inside made this one stand out. She’d dropped it last night. Hints of her perfume still clung to the cardboard fold, so he knew it belonged to her. He pulled back the flap to find a series of numbers and a pencil drawing.
What had she really been after up here?
No other woman had tested him the way she did and the lingering taste of her juices on his tongue served like a wrecking ball to his legendary control.
A woman looking like her in his club, those deep green eyes and soft, curvy body in a uniform that left nothing to the imagination, spelled trouble for all of them.
The scent of inexperience on a woman that beautiful tempted a man beyond reason. When they saw those curves and those sweet expressive eyes, the only thing a man wanted was to get her in bed so he could be the one to lure her sensual, and possibly submissive side, to the surface. Judging by the none-too-subtle stares and whispers along the club floor, he knew the male clientele were biding their time. Once outside these walls, there was nothing he could do for her.
That presented two problems. One for the men he and his brothers would slaughter if they dare touch her. Which led back to another problem.
A fact.
No woman was safe with them.
Sevastyan sighed as he stuffed the cardboard, swirling a drink in the other.
Many considered him ruthless and lethal when dealing with enemies, and he wasn’t considered much nicer when it came to dealing with friends.
They were right.