Page 4 of Devious Truth

Darren’s glance lingers for several long moments before he turns back to me. Those two have had an on-again, off-again situation for the last year. Right now they’re off, but the heat rolling off his glare suggests it’s not going to stay that way for long.

“It’s obvious you like her, a lot. Maybe you should just be honest with her about it.”

He pulls back like I’ve just offered him a batch of brownies laced with rat poison. “Talk about feelings?”

“I know, it’s disgusting, but some women actually like an emotionally intelligent man.” I slide one drink over a bit on the tray to balance it out.

“Your table’s waiting.” He nods his head toward the lounge.

I laugh as I walk away. “Avoid it all you want; you know I’m right.”

As I lean between two men to slide their drinks onto the table, one of them blows a thick cloud of cigar smoke into my face. Holding my breath and trying to tamp down the urge to cough out the smoke, I place all four drinks down.

“Here you go.” A twenty-dollar bill lands on my tray. “Bring another round in twenty minutes.”

The voice is familiar. The creepy crawly sensation covering my skin is just as memorable. I grab the bill, tuck the tray undermy arm and hurry to get a safe distance away from the table before turning around to see who had spoken.

My throat closes around a whimper. The scar on the left side of his face is a dead giveaway.

This shouldn’t be happening. I left all of that behind, five hundred miles in the past. What could he be doing here?

“Vee.”

A hand rests on my shoulder, and I jump, dropping my empty tray.

“Shit. Sorry.” I grab it and spin around on my heel to find a concerned Caroline staring at me.

“You good? You look spooked.”

It’s tempting to look back over my shoulder to see if the noise drew unwanted attention, but I manage to tamp down my panic enough to concentrate on Caroline. I’ve been tired all day, I’m probably worrying about nothing. Lots of men come into Obsidian with scars. He could be anyone. I could be projecting.

“I’m fine. Just tired. How’s the game room going? Any luck?”

I force a playfulness to my voice as I lead her toward the bar, and away from the tables.

“With Kaz? No.” She huffs. “He’s been all business tonight, chatting up whoever that extra guy is with them. They keep switching to Russian, so I can’t understand what’s happening, but I think they’ve said the name DeAngelo a few times.”

“DeAngelo? They’ve put a ban on any member of their family from entering. Stripped all access from anyone connected to them, too.”

“Oh?” She raises her eyebrows. “Who told you that? Ivan?”

“Not directly. I heard him and Alexander talking when I was getting the stitches taken out of my palm.” I roll my eyes.

“You mean when Ivan brought in their family physician to remove the stitches that he had brought the doctor to the club toput in for you in the first place,” she clarifies with a heavy dose of sarcasm weighing down her words.

“Don’t make more of it than it was.” My palm itches where the cut from the broken beer stein has healed.

Ivan just happened to be in the room when I’d cut myself; that’s why helped me. It was no more than an employer helping his employee.

“Oh, I know what it was. It’s you who refuses to see what’s right in front of your face.” She smirks.

“Caroline, I won’t even go out with a guy I work with, much less the man I workfor,” I remind her.

“Speaking of the man you work for…” Caroline dips her chin with a wicked smile.

I don’t have to turn to understand her meaning. The air seems to change just from his presence.

“Vivienne.” Ivan’s unmistakable voice wraps around me like a blanket fresh from the dryer. “We need a bottle of Vodka. The Legend of Kremlin.”

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