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Chapter Five
“Quiet, cariña. Go with Matteo. Now.” His hushed command might have sounded soft, but his tone held no room for argument and didn’t sway her in the way he no doubted hoped. Until that second, she had no idea a whisper could hold such an amount of force and because he must have picked up on her having no intentions of following his command, he placed a hand on her thigh and moved her to stand behind him.
Roman stepped in from her right, working with Sevastyan to finish off the wall of muscle; her vision narrowed down to the view of a black suit and a curtain of black hair.
She balled a fist and nailed Roman in the shoulder blade with the pad of her fist. “Move right now, you big lug.” Of course, that moved him about as far as she could shove a one-ton boulder. Around them, guests quietly left the alcove, leaving them standing among empty settees. Still, anyone on the main floor could see what was going on. Except for her.
Matteo came up behind her, his black eyes glowing with constrained fury.
“Come with me,” he growled in her ear and wrapped a vise-like arm around her waist. She shot a worried look at him and pleaded with her eyes instead of words. She couldn’t find any right now to convey the gut-deep hurt and worry that consumed her thoughts for Maya.
“I know,” Matteo consoled her as he pulled her close, tucking her into his body. “Let Sevastyan and the others handle this,” he soothed in a voice that barely broke through the fog of worry in her head. All this took place within seconds of a mystery man walking in with Maya.
Damn, what was his name? She knew it but nothing but blankness came the more she tried to force the memory to the forefront of her mind.
“Please,” the man drew out in a baritone voice. “Don’t leave on my account.”
Then it hit her. Fingers pressed to her lips; she uttered the name under her breath. “Dominic Dimitris.” She’d heard her father say it once over the speakerphone in a hushed conversation when he thought he was alone. And that is the voice that had come through.
She’d been looking for a book in her father’s home library one evening, and he hadn’t noticed her in the room. Because at the time the name meant next to nothing to her, she’d ducked out a side exit and paid no mind to it afterward. Until now. That was his name. She was sure of it.
“What did you say?” Matteo pulled her back and peered down at her. Until then she’d never seen a man look so intently at another person, but right that second the full power of Matteo’s focus lashed her to the floor. Her gaze held his, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Oh, God. Was Dimitris the one that killed her father? Why would he be here? Did he follow her? Nothing stood in the way of the bloody images of her father slamming into her mind, as fresh as the day she had found him nailed to the side of his own containers.
Bile rose to burn the back of her throat, and she forced it down so hard it burned a fiery path to her gut. Tears rimmed her eyes, and Matteo tucked her head into his chest, confused, she was sure, at her reaction to who he considered a stranger.
“Dominic Dimitris,” she restated in a louder voice against Matteo’s shirt and turned, all traces of tears locked into a mental box. Tears would come later.
Wise or not, who knew, but she pushed out of Matteo’s arms and stepped away from his attempt to hold her back. She rounded Sevastyan’s side and aimed her attention at the man standing across from them. All emotion vacated her expression. She wanted him to see her, not some blubbering idiot.
The next few seconds played out in slow motion.
Both Lucian and Matteo flashed to her sides, both stepping between her and the thugs Dimitris had flanking him. Their guns raised and leveled at her head.
Before she could decide on her next move Sevastyan swooped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against the front of his body. What she would have done had she been left to her own devices, she didn’t know. Slam a fist into the other guy’s face like she had wanted to do with Bjorn? Let him have all the pent-up rage that festered just beneath the surface? Maybe. Sevastyan’s arm tightened.
How had Dimitris found her? Or was this a coincidence? Did it even matter? And why was he here to see Sevastyan?
“Lucian, Matteo,” Sevastyan stated in that infuriating cool tone of his. Did he ever get riled up? Pissed? She had a feeling when he lost his cool, bodies dropped. She’s never seen anyone with so much control. And that scared her most.
Matteo swiveled his simmering black gaze to hers, the man’s monster just below the surface, and gave her a half-smile and a wink.
Thank you, she mouthed to him and then Lucian.
Both gave her a slight nod.
“I see you remember me.” A slimy smile curled Dimitris’ lips and his black eyes raked over her from head to foot, causing a shiver to crawl along her skin. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Crowne.”
Shit. She turned her gaze upward to look at Sevastyan. The sound of her true name on the other man’s lips didn’t seem to faze her Russian. Yet was that pain ghosting the depths of his golden irises? She couldn’t tell. One blink and his usual stone mask bricked him off from her once again.
He simply peered at her and she knew they were in for a long conversation at some point. And she had a lot of explaining to do. His hand splayed over her midriff and his fingers pressed into her skin possessively as if confirming her thoughts.
Her gaze switched back to Maya’s and jumped to Dimitris’.
“Maya. It’s me. Are you okay?”
At the sound of her name Maya’s head snapped up, her face screwed into a pucker of confusion. Her friend tried to mouth she was sorry, but Sevastyan cut in. But there was no hiding the bruises along her cheeks and throat.
“Please,” Sevastyan began, his voice a rumble against her back. He raised a hand to Dimitris who crossed the few feet between them, his bodyguards a mirror of his movements. Maybe Lucian, Matteo and Sevastyan stepping in when they did had been a good thing from the lethal look those two wore like a cologne.
“Thank you for accepting our invitation. We didn’t expect you so soon, but it’s good nonetheless.” Sevastyan held her close as he took Dimitris’ hand and all of a sudden she understood. She’d truly fallen for the enemy and her stomach churned at the truth she’d slept with men who had something—possibly everything—to do with her father’s death. She’d been wrong and stupid. All four of the kings were guilty—where their role fit she didn’t know yet, but her father must be turning over in his grave. Like a sizzling lightning bolt to the heart, the frozen lump of muscle jolted to life. A sudden kinship toward Diane Keaton’s character in The Godfather the moment she discovered the family truth took hold.
She was so fucked.
