Chapter 4
The bass from the club’s speakers blared a physical thrum that vibrated in Bea’s chest as she pushed through the heavy velvet curtains of Vortex Cove.
She knew she looked like a walking invitation to a riot.
She had opted for black pleather leggings because, as she’d muttered to her mirror, real leather and body rolls were a recipe for a heatstroke and chafing, and she didn’t have time for that.
Over them, she wore a short, flowy black dress that she’d customized herself, ripping the sides up to her ribs to allow for movement.
The look was held together by sheer fishnet that covered her arms and chest, framing her cleavage, which was currently being held in a gravity-defying display by a bra that deserved its own Medal of Honor.
She didn’t head for the balcony. Not yet. She wanted them to wait. She wanted them to sit and stew for a bit.
Instead she sauntered to the bar, her hips swinging with the rhythm of some dumb techno music. She’d have to talk to Dimitri about this cliche of a night club he’s got going on.
“What can I get ya doll?” the bartender asked, flashing a grin.
“Give me something with a kick, but make it fruity,” she told him. He smiled and nodded before heading off to fix her drink.
When he returned with her drink she said a quick, “Thank you,” as a shadow fell over her. The smell of cheap cologne and desperation hit her nose. He was a middle-aged man with a sweaty forehead and a hairpiece that was losing its battle with the club’s humidity.
“Hey sexy,” he leaned in, his eyes roaming over her body before landing on her chest with zero subtlety. “Let me buy that for you. A girl like you shouldn’t be drinking alone, and I know a nice private area we can go to… talk.” The way he said it made Bea want to gag.
“No thanks,” Bea said, her voice flat, not even looking at him.
“Come on,” he persisted, moving closer into her personal space. “Don’t be like that. I’m trying to be a nice guy here. Doing the fat chick a favor, you know? You don’t get offers like this every night.”
Bea’s hand stopped on her glass. She didn’t get angry; she started to laugh. It was a rich, genuine sound that cut through the house music.
“A favor?” she gasped, finally turning to look at him.
“Oh, honey, you men with small peckers always try to insert yourselves with big girls because you think we’re desperate.
But the truth is, you’re just mad because you can never have this forbidden fruit.
You couldn’t handle me if I came with an instruction manual and a safety harness. ”
Up on the balcony, the three kings had noticed her arrival as well as the cheap suit standing way too close to her.
Dimitri’s drink stopped halfway to his lips. Nico’s fingers froze on his tablet. Killian was leaning so far over the railing his knuckles were white. The second they saw the man’s hand reach out and grip Bea’s wrist, the three of them moved as one, a lethal surge toward the stairs.
But they weren’t fast enough to beat the Queen B.
The man’s face went purple with rage. “You bitch-“
Bea’s laughter cut off like a light switch. As his hand grabbed her wrist, she didn’t pull away. She leaned into it. In one fluid, blurred motion, she grabbed his hand, pivoted her weight, and slammed his face down face-first into the polished mahogany bar.
CRACK.
She twisted his arm behind his back, hiking it up toward his shoulder blades until his arm was bent to its limit, his cheek pressed against the spilled gin.
“Shut the fuck up!” she hissed into his ear, her voice a low, terrifying vibration. “You caused this. You decided it was okay to insult another person because you can’t handle hearing the word ‘NO.’ You are nothing but scum. You don’t deserve my pity. What a disgusting and sad excuse for a man.”
She shifted her stance, putting the full power of her curves and muscle into one final, brutal twist.
SNAP.
The sound of his arm breaking was audible even over the thumping music. The man let out a pathetic, high-pitched wail before his eyes rolled back and he slumped.
Bea let go of him like he was a piece of trash, turning back to the bar to pick up her fruity drink.
She took a sip through the straw, then realized she wasn’t alone.
The three brothers had arrived. They were standing in a semi-circle behind her, looking like a trio of dark deliciousness with a sprinkle of danger.
Nico was staring at the man on the floor, then at Bea, a slow, impressed smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Dimitri had his arms crossed, his eyes dark with a mixture of possessive pride and lethal amusement.
But it was Killian who looked the most undone. He was staring at her with a raw hunger, his chest heaving. He looked like she hadn’t just broken a man’s arm; he looked like she’d handed him the moon on a silver platter.
“Gentlemen,” Bea said, dabbing a drop of juice from her lip with her thumb. “Balcony, correct?” She smiled sweetly as she walked past them.
Killian took a heavy step to follow her, his voice dropping to a gravelly, pained edge. “Do that again. You have no idea how hard I am right now.” He stalked after her, not taking his eyes off her as he caught up.
Dimitri rolled his eyes, a heavy, long-suffering sigh escaping him as he turned to Nico. “We better move. At the rate he’s going, Killian’s going to declare his undying love and end up castrated before the night is over.”
The walk up the stairs to the balcony was a slow, agonizing crawl for the three men trailing behind her. Bea didn’t rush; she let the silk of her dress flutter against the fishnets, her hips swaying with a deliberate, mocking grace.
When they reached the private booth, she slid into the center of the velvet U-shape, claiming the space before they could dictate where she sat.
She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, the pleather of her leggings creaking softly.
She took a slow sip of her drink, her hazel eyes flicking over them with the clinical detachment of a jeweler appraising glass.
They were a terrifyingly handsome trifecta.
Dimitri, dark beard, with that silver-edged hair, scattered tattoos and the rings that whispered of old-money power.
Nico, the genius with the boy-next-door face, dark hair, same blue eyes as his brothers but more pronounced with those slutty little glasses and the hidden, corded muscle.
And Killian those blue unhinged eyes, slight scruff of a beard coming in, his body covered in tattoos and muscles, the mountain of a man who looked like he wanted to eat her alive.
“So,” Bea started, her voice a low purr. “The Three Kings of the City, reduced to sending encrypted distress signals like a bunch of schoolboys. What’s the matter? Did someone lose their favorite toy at the docks?”
Dimitri’s jaw tightened, his silver-blue eyes flashing. “Watch your tongue, Beatrice. You’re in my house.”
“Am I?” She leaned forward, the move causing Killian to let out a ragged breath as his eyes dropped to the curve of her belly.
She looked at the scar on his cheek and smiled sweetly.
“Last time we were in ‘your house,’ Killian was still recovering from a permanent souvenir and Nico had to rebuild his entire firewall from a Starbucks. I’d say the ‘house’ has a bit of a pest problem. ”
“We didn’t bring you here for a walk down memory lane,” Nico said, though a smirk tugged at his chin dimple. “We have a leak. A deep one. We need someone who isn’t a Marchetti soldier to find it. Someone with… your specific set of skills.”
Bea hummed, swirling the ice in her glass. “I’ll do it. I’ll scrub your mess and find your rat.” She paused, her smile turning sharp. “For ten million. Upfront. Non-refundable.”
Dimitri’s head snapped toward Nico, a look of pure ‘I told you so’ etched into his face. He leaned in, his gold rings clicking against the table. “Ten million? You’re as arrogant as you are expensive.”
“I’m the best, Dimitri. The best doesn’t come cheap, and I know your bank accounts have more zeros than you have bodies in this cliché of a club.”
Dimitri’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t argue.
Instead, a slow, calculating smile spread across his face.
“Fine. Ten million. But there’s a condition.
You don’t stay at your penthouse. You live in the compound, under our roof, until the traitor is caught.
I don’t trust you not to take the wire transfer and disappear into the Mediterranean. ”
Bea pulled a face of pure, practiced indignation. “The compound? With you three? I’d rather sleep in a snake pit.” She let the silence hang for a beat, then broke into a wide, wicked grin. “Oh, all right. You talked me into it. This will be fun, boys!”
She finished her drink in one go and stood up, the movement fluid and sudden.
Dimitri looked towards his brothers with a questionable look, “Should we be worried why she agreed so fast?” He looked back at Bea who was walking away. “Wait, where do you think you’re going?” Dimitri demanded, his voice dropping into a low command. “I haven’t dismissed this meeting.”
Bea started walking toward the stairs and she turned just enough to throw a wink at the three of them, a wink that felt like a match dropped in a powder keg.
Killian’s adoring smile vanished instantly. His face went stone-cold, his large hands curling into fists that looked like they could crush the railing. “What the fuck was that wink for?” he growled, already stepping toward the stairs.
“No fucking clue.” Dimitri snapped, though he was already moving, his stride long and furious.
Dimitri reached the bar just as Bea was leaning over it, her fingers trailing up and down the forearm of the bartender, a young guy named Luke who looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Luke,” Dimitri’s voice was a whip-crack. The bartender jumped, his face going pale. “I need you to work a double tonight. Then stay for the full inventory intake.”
Luke stammered an “Only if you say so, Boss,” and scrambled to the other end of the bar.
Bea’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before it returned, brighter and more dangerous than before.
She set her empty glass down, stepped close to Dimitri, and grabbed his lapel to pull him down to her level.
She leaned in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear, her voice a hot, velvet whisper.
“That’s okay, big boy,” she murmured. “My vibrator and the thoughts of Luke will be enough to get me by tonight.”
She patted his chest, gave him one last taunting look, and sauntered toward the exit, leaving Dimitri standing at the bar with a look on his face that suggested he was about to burn the entire building down just to make a point.