Chapter Fifteen
“Gird your loins for this shit. You’re not going to believe it.”
Lucian slinked with easy, long strides through his office door and tossed a stack of papers two inches thick on Sevastyan’s desk before throwing himself into the chair opposite him.
Sevastyan looked up to see the shocked face of his secretary a second before the door swung closed.
Looking ragged and worn, Lucian let out a gruff exhalation. Still wearing the same clothes from the previous night, the man scrubbed a hand over his face, a two-day-old stubble across his chin.
Sevastyan tapped the file. “What? You found something?”
“It took an all-nighter, day, evening, shit what time is it?” He glanced at his watch. “Damn. Is that morning or evening?” His voice was a steady rumble that spoke of fatigue.
“Evening. You’ve been holed up in front of your screen for over fifteen hours. Have you eaten anything? I know you haven’t showered or slept.”
Lucian shook his head. “Roman hasn’t fared any better. He’s picked up where I left off until he has to go on stage again tonight.”
“I can’t believe he’s doing that shit.”
Lucian offered a tiny shrug. “His plan is working. He’s getting people to talk to him. Means to an end.”
Sevastyan nodded.
“That doesn’t matter right now, you need to hear this.”
Sevastyan straightened, his interest piqued at the look of disbelief on the other man’s face. “What did you find?”
Lucian scooted to the end of his chair; all signs of fatigue gone. He reached forward and tapped the file. Sevastyan flipped open the file and damn near choked on his surprise. Lucian’s investigation into Crowne shipping was bound to turn up some ugly crap no one wanted unburied, but this?
The most beautiful green eyes stared back at him.
“Seraphina?” he asked in disbelief.
His brows shot up in question, and he sliced his gaze to Lucian. “What the fuck is this?” “Our girl isn’t who she claims to be. Meet one lovely Rhia Crowne, illegitimate love child of one very dead Alfredo Crowne. The second half of that little gem took an extra hour of digging and a few hospital firewalls to crack. Wasn’t easy.” He held his hands out and made a move of popping his knuckles. “But you know me.”
Rhia Crown. The name fit her better.
Sevastyan stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. So the Crowne brothers had a little sister and she’d weaseled her way into Haven. He wondered if they knew where she was. Did they plant her here? Was she involved with the missing containers? Were the Crowne brothers? One question after another sailed through his mind and the faster they came, the fewer answers he had.
His inner monster stirred, stretched, ready for the hunt.
He stared at the picture of her in a candid shot with a man he assumed was her brother. Shorter than Sevastyan by a few good inches, Sevastyan considered the angle of the jawline and the similar eyes. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulder and some deep, irrational force in Sevastyan saw red.
He almost wanted to throw his head back and bark out a laugh until the anger that swelled in him dissipated. The little minx thought she could play them?
“Crowne Senior took extra precautions to keep all focus off of her.”
Sevastyan pushed to his feet and paced to the window. Night had fallen over the city, but he didn’t see the lights, cars, or people. All he could see was a set of green jade eyes.
“Why do you think that is?” he wondered aloud.
From the moment he saw her he knew something was off. He’d ignored all the warning signs. Misinterpreted her looks for desire when she’d probably been sizing them up.
In the window’s reflection, he saw Lucian shrug. “Why do parents do anything? I suppose for protection? Registered corporate papers don’t have her anywhere near the company, and you won’t find her in any official pictures they have of the Crowne family. I was lucky to find what I did, and I think it was a slip-up or some paparazzi got lucky. Why the father has her on the outs when the brothers are partners is anyone’s guess. Either he’s an egomaniacal bastard who thought women should be seen and not heard, at home while the men handle business. Or—”
“Or, he wanted to protect her from the people he dealt with. You saw the murder scene. The violent slashes. The burn marks. Pouring acid on the man would have been less cruel. Mikhail was burned almost the same way. Would you want your daughter tied up with anyone capable of doing that?” he finished Lucian’s thoughts for him.
“We can only assume for now. You think the father is guilty?”