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“Just keeping an eye on business. And cursing my cousin.”
“For?”
“My cousin Rocco is the owner and creator of the restaurant. Bastard keeps asking for a raise and much as it pains me to give him one, I can’t argue with a roomful of happy people enjoying their meals.”
The set of those slim, fit shoulders sagged slightly as she relaxed. “I had no idea your cousin was Rocco Stavros. I should have known by the last name.”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. And it’s hard to miss the loud sighs that flutter in his wake every time we’re in here managing the flower installations.”
“They’re beautiful, by the way.” He shifted his attention back to his companion. “But pale in comparison to you. You’re glowing.”
If the frank appreciation bothered her she held back, a smile ghosting her lips instead. “I’d hope so. The torture experts in your spa exfoliated me back down to the skin I was born with.”
Rafe ran a finger over the back of her hand. “They exfoliated everywhere?”
She slipped her hand away but her gaze remained firm on his. “A woman deserves to keep a few secrets.”
“I suppose it’s a wise strategy. It gives a man something to work toward.”
“To work toward what?”
“Uncovering them.”
Those expressive eyes widened, a million emotions flaring in their depths. He reveled in that look, recognizing he could use the confusion—and the underlying attraction he saw as well—to his advantage. What he hadn’t accounted for was the heady sensation of being in her company.
The woman was a vision. More than that, she was an interesting companion. They’d already discussed the property on their walk through the casino to dinner, her questions and insights astute and thoughtful, several of them tinged with a biting humor he’d not have expected from her. She was also sweet, waving and acknowledging by name several coworkers as they’d made their way to dinner.
Their waiter gave a discreet cough as he came to their table, effectively ending round one. From the besotted look in the man’s eyes as Evangeline greeted him, Rafe mentally added the man into the woman’s legion of fans.
And avoided the small kernel of doubt that attempted to invade the moment.
She knew people. Knew the property and what went on across the grounds. Was the warmth and kindness all an act? Was it possible she was plotting and planning to help her fellow Hunters?
The doubts came fast and furious, disturbing in their intensity. He’d always considered himself a strong judge of character but for some reason, in spending time with Evangeline, he couldn’t be sure. Worse, he increasingly questioned if he could be objective when it came to her.
Evangeline waited until Ross departed their table before she pushed her full attention toward Rafe and wondered—not for the first time—where he’d gone. Oh, he was sitting there, the fine cut of his suit making for an impressive—and incredibly attractive—dining companion.
But he wasn’t there.
Instead, he’d drifted in and out of their conversation since they’d met up in the hotel lobby.
If she’d believed him indifferent to her she might have chafed at the behavior, but his too-warm gaze and awareness during the moments he was present told a different story.
And then there was his touch. Hot as a brand and twice as powerful. Evangeline had never felt anything like it. Or been as tempted to let the fierce need that had settled in her chest have free rein.
She wanted him.
A simple emotion with the most complicated set of outcomes.
He was her boss.
He was a wealthy, powerful man who could have anything he wanted.
And he was hiding something.
The first two might be overcome or even ignored in the pursuit of pleasure, but the last was what held her back. She hated secrets, equating them to the same lack of power and control that had ruled her childhood.
She’d vowed to herself long ago never to be that helpless again. Her choices had made for a quiet life, full of a solitude she’d never planned on, but at least she was safe. Protected.
And if that protection had also become something of a cocoon, well, then, she’d live with that.
She didn’t do secrets. Or omission. And she’d be damned if she was going to accept a bald-faced lie.
Rafe might be charming, but he’d continually denied answering her questions about the burning man on the property. And lest he think a few hours in the spa and a fancy dinner would erase what she knew she’d seen, she now had to figure out a way to get answers.
But first, she’d play the role of ingenue for the evening and flirt a bit with the temptress routine. Stone-cold bitch certainly hadn’t done the trick.
“This is quite a place you and your family have built.”
“Thank you.”
When he said nothing more, she pressed on. “This hotel isn’t more than a decade old, yet your father and grandfather have legendary reputations in Las Vegas.”
Something almost imperceptible flashed in his gaze and if she weren’t watching him so closely she’d surely have missed it. “We purchased this property years ago but this end of the Strip wasn’t nearly developed enough for our needs. The original Archangel was over on Fremont and the Stavros family managed joint ownership or backing in other properties here on the Strip until we were able to bring our vision fully to life.”
“That’s all rather patient of you.”
“A trait my family has in spades.”
The sommelier arrived, effectively pausing their conversation and Evangeline took a small, unobtrusive pull of air through her nose.
Patience? Planning? Perhaps bit of world domination tossed in for good measure?
Who did she work for?
She’d taken the job on a whim, circumstance driving the decision more than an overt hunt for employment. She’d seen a need—the poorly managed grounds—and had pushed and poked her way into the Archangel. When she’d seemingly been accepted at face value, she hadn’t questioned her good fortune.
So why was she now?
A small, predatory light filled Rafe’s gaze, perhaps indicative of her sudden discomfort and uneasiness.
Their sommelier departed, two glasses of red wine left behind in his wake, and Evangeline lifted her goblet in response to Rafe.
“To patience.” Rafe clinked his glass against hers. “And all the dividends it inevitably pays.”
“Cheers.”
She took a sip of the wine, an exquisite explosion of taste on her tongue as she drank the rich red. The spa. The dress. Now the dinner. Rafael Stavros did nothing by half measure.
“Lovely.”
“As are you.” Rafe inclined his head before he settled his glass on the table. “What about you, Miss Kennedy? Are you a Las Vegas native?”
“I think so.”
The words were out so fast there was no way to retrieve them, even as the answer was far more honest than she’d ever have intended. While Rafe waited for her to continue, she weighed the merits of sharing her past.
How did one share the details of a wretched childhood that began in an abusive home and ended in the cold, airless confines of foster care?
And why did she even care?
“My pedigree isn’t nearly as well established as yours.”
Rafe’s eyebrows did lift at that, a mix of humor and affront painting those gray depths. “Are you suggesting I’m some sort of purebred dog?”
“No, but I definitely have strains of mongrel.” She took a sip of her wine, fortifying herself with the burst of flavor and obvious quality of the drink. While certainly not necessary, it did make the telling a bit sweeter.
“My parents were rather poor at their jobs. Both had drug problems, my father especially.”
Where she’d braced for sympathy, something more akin to anger morphed in the swirling depths of his gaze. Oddly, the unexpected reaction encouraged her, allowing her to push on. “The tale’s not new, but Vegas certainly doesn’t provide a helpful backdrop for those battling addiction.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I was young at the time, so there’s quite a bit I don’t remember. But one day my father just stopped coming home. My mother ranted and railed about it for months, falling deeper and deeper into her own abyss and then one day, it all stopped and she was gone, too.”
“You remember?”
“Some days.”
“And others?”
“I remember how I survived. Learning places to hide. Understanding how to read moods and body language and whatever else went on in a room. And finding my own solace in the small patches of dirt outside our apartment, the hardscrabble something I could make beauty out of.”
“A flower in the desert.”
“Perhaps.”
“There’s no perhaps about it. You clearly found a way to triumph over unfair circumstances no child should ever have to experience.”
“It’s why, you know.”
“Why what?”
She’d never been one to avoid or evade when she could simply go for what she wanted. It had been like that in foster care and she’d carried the trait on into adulthood. Hell, it had earned her a place at the Archangel.
Yet in this moment—at this time—she nearly backed down. Almost walked away in the light of that anger that still burned in his gaze.
Anger for her.
Evangeline felt it. Knew it, on a deep, visceral level. The story of her past had upset him. Angered him with a primal rage she could read in the set of his broad shoulders and the tight grip he had on his wineglass.
But a lifetime of loss and of looking out for no one but herself had more gravity than the rather new sensation of sitting opposite a champion.
“It’s why I won’t forget what I saw. Or stop looking for answers as to why there was a man burning to death outside the greenhouse last night.”
Chapter 4 (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
White-hot flames licked at his soul, a dark, dangerous fire Rafe struggled to keep in check. He prided himself on his control—he knew who he was and what he was capable of—and always held himself—and his needs—in a firm grip.
Until Evangeline.
She was incendiary, a bright, vivid match to the flames that already consumed him.
And she was more dangerous than she ever could have imagined.
Damn it all to Hades, he’d intended to leave the subject of last night alone. He’d foolishly believed a day of pampering and seduction would turn her mind away from the impossible.
Or what should have been impossible but which was very, very real.
Evangeline Kennedy was too smart—and far too intuitive—to leave the subject alone. Even with all the efforts of Gabe’s security team, working to divert and dissuade her from what she’d seen, she was unwilling to be put off.
None of it changed the fact she’d also done them a massive favor by getting rid of the bumbling Troy and Victor. Their idiocy and obvious desire to infiltrate the casino was the reason she’d still been on the property at such a late hour, working without two team members.
Was it really possible she had no idea the men were agents of the very organization seeking to bring down Rafe and his people? Did he dare ask her?
Or more to the point, was he willing to deal with the consequences if she hid the one secret he feared?
His gaze roamed over the delicate lines of her throat, her tan honing her skin to a fine shimmer. The steady throb of her pulse reflected in the hollow, deep and rich, and he could see the light movement of her flesh where her life force beat. If he were closer to a Rejuvenation, he could even hear it, those first moments of renewed life always a trauma to the senses.
Was it even possible she was one of the monsters who hunted him and his people in service to Chaos?
“You won’t find anything.”
“I have to try.” Her dark eyes sheened with tears, the response as surprising as it was unexpected. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t. That sort of violence and pain. How can you expect me to ignore it?”
What if I told you it wasn’t violent? Wasn’t painful? Instead was filled with the richest sense of renewal and fresh life. It was the antithesis of pain. Of suffering. Of our mortal tether to human life.
But he said none of those things.
Instead he reached for his glass of wine and sat back in his chair, a bastard of the first order who wouldn’t break or bend, acquiesce or yield.
He was Helios.
And his secret was not to be shared or entrusted to another.
* * *
