Chapter Three
Rhia watched as Sevastyan Volkov moved his massive body from the shadows and onto a second-level terrace overlooking the open main floor.
Owner of Haven and now her new boss. At least one of them. The three other partners held the strings to her future in their strong clutches as well.
Lucian, the rueful one. Native to the city. Matteo, oh that man. Spaniard with a to-die-for accent and also the silent one. And Roman... well, he was the bright blue-eyed walking mystery of the group. But Sevastyan was the leader. Anyone could see the others didn’t make a move without his approval.
But the best part—the part that kept her up nights—she planned on taking them down.
Every last one of them.
Rhia sucked in a deep breath of courage and along with it came her constant companion fear. The mixture tasted no better than a badly prepared cocktail in the bottom of her stomach.
The grip on her tray tightened.
Sevastyan stood in the center, his powerful hands wrapped around the railing in front of him.
She swallowed past a dry throat, hugging the dark recesses of the lower level. His attention roamed over the room, a mask of indifference pulling at the edges of his expression.
Her eyes were drawn to his mouth. Full lips. Kissable. Over and over again she let her gaze touch different parts. The man looked like the type of hero women drooled over in the movies. Impossibly good-looking, an expensive suit draped over a body of pure muscle. From the outside looking in, the only side of him that screamed mafia bad boy was the spider tattoos around his neck and etched ink along his knuckles.
And his eyes. God, save her from hell. They were soul-piercing and whenever they locked on hers the tug to her most private of parts left her dreaming of things she had no business entertaining.
Heat scorched her body followed by a dreadful sense of mortification. Not only because the enemy turned her on, but so did his friends.
Roman’s strong hands captivated her from the few times she’d served them. His fingers had brushed against hers and each time their skin made contact...
Rhia swallowed. God, that man made her want things with a simple touch. What would happen if she ever bent to the dark invitation in his sultry stares? She shivered just thinking about the possibilities.
It seemed wrong, but a deep-seated desire melted through her, warming parts she craved to have touched.
And Lucian. His gun-metal grey eyes liked to travel over her body, caress the grooves of her waist and outward flare of her hips every time she entered a room with him in it.
That left Matteo. He watched. Always watched.
And for all those reasons she had to measure every move she made.
Chills erupted over her legs and arms. A warm sensation welled deep in her core causing her nipples to harden and her pussy to clench.
What the hell was happening to her? These men were not romantic heroes by any stretch of the imagination. Not with the whispers she had heard crawling through the walls of this den of sin.
Maybe anti-heroes because those men didn’t do anything for anyone unless it benefited them most of all.
How did she know? They owned numerous establishments across the city. Each filthier than the next and natural hubs for people they rubbed elbows with— criminal lords from across the globe, dirty politicians, Russian mobsters—the list went on. All playing at being saints and Robin Hoods while the sun was out, but by night they slithered along the floor of Chicago’s underbelly.
She wondered if Sevastyan’s brother rolled in his grave or if being dirty ran in the family.
And this place, well, it was no secret Haven was the heart of their criminal empire. She knew they felt untouchable within these walls, but after tonight she knew—she fucking knew—something inside their offices could be used against them.
And she had every intention of finding it.
Rhia bit at her lip. For all her bravado she stood weak in the knees, her breath catching in her chest with only the strength of adrenaline keeping her body from locking up mid-step.
Some battling die-hard vigilante she pretended to be.
Like an idiot, her glance skittered up the gold leaf embellished columns to find the other three reasons for her lack of sleep easing alongside Sevastyan. Each as beautifully lethal as the next.
Their expressions were carved in granite—unreadable and cold. Nothing new there. The three men at his side radiated the same power and together they were a force no one dared challenge.