Page 8 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

As the elevator ascends, my mind races. Who is this mysterious boss? What could he possibly want with me? The only thing I know for certain is that this has something to do with Jay and his gambling debts. My brother’s words from our earlier phone call echo in my head suddenly.“There’s something else you need to know. Something important?—”

The elevator chimes when we reach the top floor. The doors slide open to reveal a reception area decorated in stark blacks and whites. A statuesque blonde woman sits behind an imposing desk, her gaze cool as she takes us in.

“Valerian Rostova is expecting you,” she says, gesturing toward a set of heavy double doors.

One of the men grips my arm, propelling me forward. I brace myself for whatever, orwhoever, waits on the other side.

The heavy double doors swing open, revealing a spacious penthouse office that takes my breath away. Huge windows show a panoramic view of Philadelphia’s skyline, and the furniture looks so expensive I’m afraid to even touch it.

And is that a real Monet painting? It certainly looks like it, but it’s the man standing behind an imposing black desk that truly captures my attention. Valerian Rostova radiates power and danger, his tailored charcoal suit accentuating broad shoulders and a lean physique. His dark hair is artfully tousled, and chilling blue eyes examine me with the intensity of a hungry jaguar.

My stomach drops as I step into the room. The doors close behind me with a metal click that sounds oddly final, and I gulp audibly.

“Miss Bennett.” Valerian’s deep voice rolls through the space. “Please, have a seat.”

I perch on the edge of a sleek leather chair, smoothing my jeans with damp palms. The office temperature must be seventy degrees, yet goosebumps ripple across my skin.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Valerian circles his desk with fluid grace, coming to settle against the front edge. His proximity sends my pulse skittering.

“I assume it has something to do with my brother,” I say, proud that my voice remains steady.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “You assume correctly.” He studies me for a long moment. “Jay has accrued quite a substantial debt at my establishment.”

My throat tightens. “How substantial?”

“Enough to cost him everything.” Valerian’s tone is matter-of-fact. “Including your family’s flower shop.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “That’s impossible. The shop belongs to my parents.”

“In my world, Miss Bennett, the sins of one family member become the responsibility of all.” His gaze is unyielding. “Your brother gambled away far more than he could ever hope to repay. The shop now belongs to me.”

Panic claws at my chest. “There has to be another way. Please, my parents have put their entire lives into that shop. They don’t deserve to lose everything because of Jay’s mistakes.”

Something flickers in Valerian’s eyes, perhaps a softening so brief I might have imagined it. He pushes off the desk and moves to the window, hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” he says after a long pause.

Hope flares, desperate and wild. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

Valerian turns, his expression unreadable. “I find myself in need of a personal masseuse. You have the necessary skills, do you not?”

I nod, hardly daring to breathe.

“Then I propose you work for me, applying your talents to ease the... tensions that come with my position. In exchange,I’ll consider your brother’s debt paid after you’ve served me a sufficient amount of time.”

I think of my parents, of the devastation they’ll face if they lose the shop, and with Jay’s latest legal troubles... “I accept,” I hear myself say, “But I have conditions. You credit me five hundred dollars an hour, and I only provide legitimate massage services. No happy endings.”

I feel the need to add the last bit because of how his cold blue eyes are traveling over my body. He’s handsome, yes, but I would never be intimate with a man who is obviously a criminal. I’m not that kind of woman.

Valerian’s eyebrows rise as a hint of amusement lifts the corners of his mouth. “Agreed. I gave up on happy endings a long time ago.”

There’s something in his tone, a flicker of vulnerability beneath the cool exterior, that makes me look at him more closely. For just a moment, I think I see behind the composed mask to a man who seems lost.

“You’ll be moving into my mansion tonight,” Valerian says, his earlier vulnerability vanishing behind a mask of authority. “I need you available whenever I require your services.”

I spring up from the chair. “That’s ridiculous! I have my own apartment, my own life!”

“Which you’ll maintain during daylight hours.” He moves closer, his tall frame towering over me. “You may continue helping at your parents’ shop and seeing your regular massage clients. My men will drive you wherever you need to go.”

“I don’t need a chauffeur.” I cross my arms, lifting my chin. “Or a new address.”

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