Page 2 of Devious Truth (Vicious Sinners #3)

T he heavy scent of cologne hits me as I enter the Volkov gaming room with the bottle of vodka. Five men sit around a table set up for poker. I recognize all of them as the Volkov brothers and Lev, but just like Caroline mentioned, the last man is unknown.

Ivan’s eyes find me the moment I enter the room, but I’m quick to avoid his stare and bring the bottle of vodka to the bar in the corner of the room. An empty bottle of whiskey sits on the table beside Alexander, the oldest Volkov brother.

“I’ll take it.” Ivan’s hand wraps around the neck of the vodka bottle, just above my hand.

As I move to set it down, his fingers brush against mine. I let go, nearly dropping the five-hundred-dollar bottle of vodka. He grips it tighter, keeping it from falling through our hands to the floor.

“Is there anything else you need?” I raise my gaze to his.

It’s a mistake of course, looking him in the face.

The man is dangerously handsome with his creamy caramel eyes and blade-sharp jawline dusted with a neatly trimmed dark beard.

He keeps his midnight black hair cut short and styled away from his face, but it’s so casual in style it’s almost as though he just wakes up looking like a god.

“What happened in the lounge?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Nothing happened. I was just talking to Caroline for a minute.”

“No, before she approached you. You saw something that made you uncomfortable.”

“Maybe it was the creepy feeling that I was being watched?” This man owns the most coveted membership club in the city; he should be keeping his attention on the members, not the waitress serving them.

Not to mention the fact that alongside his brothers, he runs one of the most dangerous Russian crime syndicates around. I should not be talking out of turn with him. But whenever he’s around me, I can’t seem to stop the snark from falling right out of my mouth.

His left eyebrow lifts. “What was it that scared you, Vivienne? Did someone do something inappropriate?”

“Inappropriate?” I laugh softly. “In this club?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“It’s a weird question. I already said nothing happened.” I touch the bottle. “You have your vodka. If there’s nothing else, Caroline will be back in to finish her shift.”

“No. She’ll be finishing in the other gaming room. They’ve had an extra player arrive who’s a VIP. They’ll need her in there full time.”

“Okay, then I’ll let Meredith know you need another girl in here.”

“Why? I have a girl in here right now.”

“I don’t work the gaming rooms.” I gesture to the bar. “I don’t know how to mix drinks. And I can’t deal the games. And we’re already a girl short in the lounge.”

The girls that work the private rooms need to be able to play bartender and dealer when needed. It’s something I need to learn, so I can work the private games. The tips are amazing back here.

“We’re not drinking mixed drinks. And Kaz is playing dealer tonight. You’ll do fine.” He pauses. “Now answer my question.”

So, we’re back to that.

“Nothing happened. I’m telling you the truth.”

If you consider ghosts showing up at your place of work nothing, then I’m right. Nothing happened.

“Then what did you see? The color drained from your face, Vivienne. I want to know what scared you.” He leans closer.

My skin prickles with his nearness, like it’s coming alive beneath his stare.

“It’s been a busy night. I’m just a little tired. Nothing scared me.”

I’m not sure which of us I’m trying to convince. But I have a feeling neither of us believe me.

He moves back and puts the bottle down on the bar.

“All right. Fine. How’s your hand?” He grabs my left hand before I can answer and turns the palm up to inspect it.

The scar is less obvious, but still visible from the deep cut a few weeks ago.

“It’s fine. It was fine last week when you asked, too.” My attempt to pull out of his grip doesn’t work, because he tightens his fingers around my wrist.

“It was a deep cut.” He traces the thin white scar on my palm from where a broken shard of glass sliced me weeks ago.

Watching his fingertips glide across my palm sends heat trickling down my spine. This man can crush a grown man’s throat with his hand— and has, if the rumors are true— but then be as gentle as a feather when touching me.

“You made it more than it was,” I mutter while he continues his inspection.

“The doctor needed to stitch it; that’s not nothing.”

“Well, it’s fine now. Thanks.” I try to take my hand back, but he keeps holding it until I bring my gaze back to his. “I’m fine. I promise, Mr. Volkov.”

Adding the proper address is intentional, and the subtle reminder that we are not on the same level gets the same reaction as it always does. His jaw ticks.

“If someone does something to frighten you, I want to know about it. Even if it’s just a comment, do you understand me?”

My insides are on fire. The man has just ignited an inferno inside me with one sentence. It’s not right, how easily his voice can trigger a hunger inside of me I’ve refused to feed for years. A desire that I can’t ever entertain. You only get one love in your lifetime, and I’ve had mine.

It’s more than what he says, it’s how he says it. Like he’s the ruler of the entire world, and he would crush anything that is a danger to me.

But what he doesn’t understand is that he’s the danger.

His lingering stares, the possessive way he treats me.

And it’s all so casual for him, so natural.

When he comes into a room and sees me, his demeanor shifts.

I sense him before I put eyes on him. All of these things are dangerous.

If I’m not careful, little things like that could soften my resolve.

And that’s one thing I can never do. I had my chance, and my soul’s been burned. The scars might heal, but I won’t ever forget.

“Do you offer such protection to all of your employees?” I counter his comment, adding a little bitterness to my tone.

He continues to stare at me.

“You’re my boss,” I remind him. “Please let go of my hand.”

His eyes narrow on me, and I realize I haven’t answered his question yet. He looks more than happy to stand here all night until I do. Unless I want to cause a scene, which would most likely result in me losing my job, I need to give him this little win.

“Yes.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep tone in check. “I understand. If something happens, I will report it.”

“To me,” he emphasizes.

“Yes, to you,” I agree.

Never going to happen, but they’re just words. And saying them gains freedom for my hand.

“The doctor hasn’t sent the bill yet for my hand. Can you give me his name so I can get a hold of him?”

His jaw drops at the same time his eyebrows lift. I think I’ve offended him somehow.

“It was a work injury; it’s been taken care of by the club.” He shakes his head a little, like he can’t believe I’d offer to pay my own medical bills.

“Thank you, then.” My fingers fidget at my sides. “I appreciate it.”

A figure steps up, hovering at the edge of our conversation. I flick my gaze up to him to find the man I don’t recognize grinning down at me.

“Are you going to hold this beautiful woman hostage all night?” His accent is unmistakably Russian and thick.

“Are we going to play, or not?” Kaz shoots from the table, the deck of cards split between his two hands.

“Maybe this beauty would like to join us?” The stranger shuffles a step in my direction, lifting his arm as though he’s going to wrap it around my shoulders.

He drops it like it’s made of lead when Ivan snaps something at him in Russian. I don’t know a word of it, but there no mistaking the blackened storm clouds swimming in Ivan’s glare as he rapid fires more words.

The man’s lips tighten into a thin line as he mutters, “I meant no disrespect.”

“The game, Ivan.” Kaz’s tone has a warning in it as he starts shuffling.

“Yes. The game.” The man points to the bottle of vodka. “I’ll pour us a round while your brother deals the next hand.”

Ivan’s expression remains hard, but he gives a small nod, a concession of sorts, and hands over the liquor.

“What did you say to him?” I ask, watching the man open the bottle and begin pouring into five shot glasses.

“I told him to keep his hands to himself.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “Or I’d make sure they never touched anything again.”

The full meaning of his words hangs heavily between us. That’s not a threat you make casually.

“Mr. Volkov?—”

With a sharp swish of his hand, he cuts me off. “I’ve told you before not to call me that. My name is Ivan.”

“Fine.” I roll my shoulders back, thrust my chin up. There is no mistaking my meaning when I speak next. “Ivan. You can’t make threats like that. I’m just an employee, like all the rest of the girls working here.”

“If you think that, you haven’t been paying attention.” Heat flashes in his eyes, and my pulse quickens.

“You’re my boss.” I hush my voice. “And when you do things like that it makes people think there’s something more going on here.”

“Sometimes people outside of a situation have a better grasp of what’s happening than those inside it.”

Great; now he sounds like Caroline.

“Has it occurred to you that maybe I don’t want there to be something? That maybe you’re just not my type?”

Even I don’t believe myself.

“No.” A hint of a smile touches his lips. “If that were true, you wouldn’t get that little blotch of red on your neck when you see me.”

I bring my fingertips to the base of my throat. It’s always been a tell, the blush that blooms in that spot. Usually it’s not noticeable, but with the deep neckline of the uniform it’s easier to see.

“It’s probably just hot in here.” I am such a liar.

“Ivan. Sometime tonight.” Kaz chides.

Ivan lifts a hand to shut his younger brother up while keeping his searing attention on me.

“All right. We’ll do things your way.” Ivan turns toward the table like he’s going to walk away but then pauses. “For now.”