Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
H aven looked in the mirror. Her makeup was perfection, and the green dress was gorgeous. She’d left her hair loose, and it fell in waves around her shoulders. She looked like a million bucks.
She just wished she was wearing it on a night out with Rhys, instead of to some criminal’s party.
She’d borrowed some jewelry from Gia, and diamonds winked in her ears.
All her own jewelry was gone. Her belly turned over, as she thought of her mom’s silver bracelet. It was the only thing of hers Haven had left, and now it was gone forever. She sighed. She’d always have her memories. Those could never be stolen or destroyed.
Haven straightened. As she always did, she picked herself up and dealt with things. That was all she could do.
She walked out of Rhys’ bathroom and found him in the bedroom, pacing.
He looked up and his face changed. “Angel, you look stunning.”
She blushed, and absorbed the hit of pleasure. “Thank you.”
He was dressed all in black—black cargoes, a tight, long-sleeved, black T-shirt. She could see the ridges of his abs outlined under the fabric. He looked dark and dangerous.
It was a reminder that tonight was dangerous.
His hands gripped her arms. “You can do this.”
She smiled. She knew he really didn’t want her to do this, but he was still giving her a pep talk to try and calm her nerves.
“It helps knowing you’ll be right outside,” she said.
He stroked his fingers along her cheekbone. “After, I’m going to bring you home and make love to you all night.”
Tingles ignited through her body. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”
“I’ve got something for you.”
He grabbed a long, narrow black box off the bedside table.
Her chest hitched.
He flicked it open. Inside was a necklace. It had a delicate silver chain, with a teardrop diamond pendant.
“Rhys,” she breathed.
“I’ve never bought jewelry before, but I know that you lost all of yours. I saw this, and I imagined it against your beautiful skin.”
She turned and lifted her hair so he could put the necklace on her.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, touching the diamond.
He turned her to face him, then kissed her. His firm lips moved over hers and she pulled in the taste of him.
“Don’t ruin my makeup,” she murmured against his lips.
He smiled. He was so damn sexy. He kissed her again, long and deep. She was completely in a daze, and wanted to stay right there in his arms, all night.
Then he lifted his head. “You might need to fix your lipstick, baby.”
She nodded.
“I have something else for you.” He held up a small, metallic box this time and flicked it open. “A microphone.”
She peered in and saw the tiniest, thinnest mic she’d ever seen inside. “It’s tiny.”
“Vander pays for the best and latest tech. Some of it is still experimental, and not available on the open market.”
The tiny microdot was cream-colored, and would blend with her skin tone.
“This adheres to your skin,” he told her. “No one will find it.”
She nodded. He lifted the dot on the tip of his finger, then with his other hand, he nudged the V neckline of her dress down.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, and as his gaze took in her breasts, fire ignited in his eyes.
He ran the back of his hand against her breasts.
She bit her lip, her nipples beading. “Rhys.”
He pressed the small dot between her breasts. “There.”
How was she supposed to concentrate on what she needed to do, when all she could think about was how much she needed Rhys?
“Time to go,” he said.
His serious tone made her desire stutter, her belly tangling with knots. She quickly slipped into the bathroom and fixed her lipstick, then headed out to the kitchen. She pulled up short.
Holy cow . The mother lode of badass hotness stood in Rhys’ kitchen.
Vander, Rhys, and Saxon were all dressed in near-identical, black outfits. They just needed guns strapped to them and she could picture them rappelling out of some stealth helicopter.
She took another couple of steps, and spotted two more big, broad-shouldered men. One was Rome—the dark-skinned, green-eyed hunk she’d seen at Norcross. He met her gaze and nodded.
Definitely the strong, silent type.
She looked at the final man and blinked. It took her a second to realize that it was Easton.
Sometimes she forgot that her boss was former military. He wore the mantle of successful businessman so well. Tonight, there was no designer suit. Instead, he wore black as well, and looked just as badass as the others.
Rhys came to her and took her hand.
“Haven, that dress was worth every penny,” Saxon said with a sexy smile.
Rhys scowled at his friend, but Haven managed a smile.
“We’ll test the microphone in the car,” Rhys said. “You have your invite?”
She held up the heavy, cream invite that Harry had delivered to her. She slipped it into her small clutch, and lifted her chin. “I’m ready.”
Something moved over Rhys’ face, and she thought it might be pride. She basked in the light of that as they left the apartment.
They stepped into the elevator. “Rhys will act as your driver,” Vander said. “The rest of us will take position outside Volkov’s mansion.”
Okay, it was good to know they’d all be there.
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks.” Vander’s midnight-blue gaze bored into her.
His dark, commanding tone made her swallow and nod. There was no way she’d dare disagree with him.
“I want the painting back,” Easton said. “But I want you alive and safe more.”
She eyed the wall of muscle surrounding her. Each one of them was doing so much to look after her. Rhys’ hand touched the small of her back.
“Thank you all again—”
“Not necessary,” Vander cut her off. “One more thing. I managed to get someone inside. Rhys will update you on the way.”
She nodded. Outside Rhys’ building, he bundled her toward a black limo. He helped her into the back. She ran her hand nervously over the leather seat. She could do this. She could do this.
The limo slid smoothly into traffic.
“We’ll hear everything you say, and everything in close radius around you,” Rhys said from the driver’s seat.
“Right,” she replied.
“But you won’t hear us. We can’t risk an in-ear mic.”
“Got it.” She fiddled with her clutch.
“Vander, she coming through?” Rhys asked.
“Yes. Crystal clear.” Vander’s voice came from the console of the car.
“So, Vander pulled a few strings and he got a friend, actually a very good client of Norcross, into the party. He won’t approach you unless you need help.”
Haven swallowed. “All right.”
“His name is Zane Roth, he’s—”
She gasped. “A billionaire. The King of Wall Street. One of New York’s Billionaire Bachelors. Voted Sexiest Man of the Year last year.”
Rhys growled. “You done?”
Oops . Someone sounded put-out. “I mean, I’ve seen him and his friends online.” The media loved the three men, and Haven couldn’t blame them. Three hot men who’d met in college, gone on to be outrageously successful billionaires, and were all shockingly attractive. What wasn’t to like?
Maybe her man didn’t want to hear that.
“Pfft. Who wants billions, anyway? What a headache.”
In the rearview mirror, she saw Rhys’ lips twitch.
“I totally prefer hot badasses, with sexy tattoos and messy, thick, rock-star hair.”
Rhys shook his head, but he was smiling.
The suburbs changed as they headed toward Sea Cliff. It was a wealthy neighborhood, with mansions nestled on the cliffs, offering sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean and the Golden Gate Bridge.
Soon, she was taking in the large, fancy houses that she knew were all multi-million-dollar real estate.
Ahead, a line of cars was pulling up in front of a stately, Tuscan-style mansion painted a gray-green with black accents.
The front garden was immaculately landscaped.
More mansions flanked it, but she noted it had a large side yard, probably because the back of the house was cliffside with water views, and a driveway on the other side was blocked by security guards.
Her nerves came back, dancing a jig in her belly.
Rhys pulled up out front and she took a deep breath. The house screamed “I have money.” It was a little too stuffy for her tastes.
Rhys swiveled in his seat. “Be careful, Haven. That sexy body is mine. I have lots of plans for it later.”
She felt a curl in her belly. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Count on it.”
He got out and circled the car, then opened her door and helped her out.
Security guards flanked the doors to the house. Other guests—also dressed to the nines—were heading up the stairs.
She sucked in a breath. She’d been to fancy fundraisers as part of her job. She knew how to turn it on and hobnob.
She felt the brush of Rhys’ hand, then he was gone. She couldn’t risk looking back. She walked up the steps, her shoulders back, making sure to show plenty of leg through the slit in her dress.
She smiled.
Showtime.
* * *
Haven walked through the crowded rooms of Volkov’s mansion. There were a lot of people there, all in designer dresses, suits, and tuxedos.
Ugh . Were all these people aware the painting was stolen? Were they all interested in buying it?
No, probably not. Harry had said this shindig was to gauge interest. Probably where Volkov could drop some bait, and see who bit.
She took a glass of champagne from a white-suited server with a tray.
The house was decorated in “rich, single, older-man” style, which involved a lot of dark colors, lots of wood, and heavy furniture.
As she’d guessed, the back of the house was all glass windows, offering a breathtaking view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
She noted a lot of San Francisco’s elite were here.
Some guests were out on the terrace, while others mingled inside.
She wandered through the room, and her gaze caught on a painting on the wall.
She gasped. A Rembrandt. It was gorgeous. She turned and spotted a Giambologna bronze resting on a side table. It had such beautiful lines. This Volkov might be a criminal, but he was one with good taste.