Although he knew his father preferred being front and center—all the better to see the action while being seen in the process—Rafe preferred something out of the way. And where he could keep his back to the wall and his gaze fully on the room.
Things had changed since his father’s time. His grandfather had been one of the first Helios to settle the area, enjoying the relative anonymity and distance from their natural adversary, the Hunters of Chaos.
Hunters still believed the legends—that the Helios guarded the gate of the ancients. Gain access to the gate and the Hunters’ master—the god of Chaos—believed he’d possess the knowledge contained within.
Rafe knew it wasn’t quite that simple. While his people did help secure the gate, knowledge had been leaking out for millennia. The world had changed, yet Chaos still acted as if it was the dawn of time.
His father had followed in Grandfather’s footsteps, enjoying his position as a mover and shaker in Las Vegas and ignoring the increasing signs the Hunters were making inroads. The occasional attack was chalked up to luck, nothing more.
While he and Gabe appreciated all their father had built, they practiced a far more cautious approach to their role as hotel owners and purveyors of a good time.
And always kept their backs to the wall.
Life had changed, inside and outside the Archangel.
Technology had radically transformed the casino business—the games, the rooms and the security most of all—but it had also honed their enemy’s skills. Recruitment through social media, transmissions through bounced mobile devices and a watchful eye that knew how to disguise itself.
“Enjoy your evening.”
The quiet murmur of their host pulled Rafe’s attention back to his lovely companion. Was it even remotely possible she was in league with the enemy?
He held a chair for Evangeline, careful to keep his expression neutral and his hands solicitously on the wood rail. Even with the restraint, the urge to touch her clawed at him, the dress she wore nearly knocking his breath away.
Once seated he no longer had a view of her exposed back and long, long legs, but he found himself distracted by toned arms and impressive chest. She was firm and fit, an athletic beauty that made him think of sun, sand and wrestling.
Naked.
“Rafe? Are you all right?”
Her dark brows slashed over equally dark eyes and he fought the urge to reach out and smooth the slight crease. “Of course.”
“You look upset.”
“Just keeping an eye on business. And cursing my cousin.”
“For?”
“My cousin Rocco is the owner and creator of the restaurant. Bastard keeps asking for a raise and much as it pains me to give him one, I can’t argue with a roomful of happy people enjoying their meals.”
The set of those slim, fit shoulders sagged slightly as she relaxed. “I had no idea your cousin was Rocco Stavros. I should have known by the last name.”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. And it’s hard to miss the loud sighs that flutter in his wake every time we’re in here managing the flower installations.”
“They’re beautiful, by the way.” He shifted his attention back to his companion. “But pale in comparison to you. You’re glowing.”
If the frank appreciation bothered her she held back, a smile ghosting her lips instead. “I’d hope so. The torture experts in your spa exfoliated me back down to the skin I was born with.”
Rafe ran a finger over the back of her hand. “They exfoliated everywhere?”
She slipped her hand away but her gaze remained firm on his. “A woman deserves to keep a few secrets.”
“I suppose it’s a wise strategy. It gives a man something to work toward.”
“To work toward what?”
“Uncovering them.”
Those expressive eyes widened, a million emotions flaring in their depths. He reveled in that look, recognizing he could use the confusion—and the underlying attraction he saw as well—to his advantage. What he hadn’t accounted for was the heady sensation of being in her company.
The woman was a vision. More than that, she was an interesting companion. They’d already discussed the property on their walk through the casino to dinner, her questions and insights astute and thoughtful, several of them tinged with a biting humor he’d not have expected from her. She was also sweet, waving and acknowledging by name several coworkers as they’d made their way to dinner.
Their waiter gave a discreet cough as he came to their table, effectively ending round one. From the besotted look in the man’s eyes as Evangeline greeted him, Rafe mentally added the man into the woman’s legion of fans.
And avoided the small kernel of doubt that attempted to invade the moment.
She knew people. Knew the property and what went on across the grounds. Was the warmth and kindness all an act? Was it possible she was plotting and planning to help her fellow Hunters?
The doubts came fast and furious, disturbing in their intensity. He’d always considered himself a strong judge of character but for some reason, in spending time with Evangeline, he couldn’t be sure. Worse, he increasingly questioned if he could be objective when it came to her.
Evangeline waited until Ross departed their table before she pushed her full attention toward Rafe and wondered—not for the first time—where he’d gone. Oh, he was sitting there, the fine cut of his suit making for an impressive—and incredibly attractive—dining companion.
But he wasn’t there.
Instead, he’d drifted in and out of their conversation since they’d met up in the hotel lobby.
If she’d believed him indifferent to her she might have chafed at the behavior, but his too-warm gaze and awareness during the moments he was present told a different story.
And then there was his touch. Hot as a brand and twice as powerful. Evangeline had never felt anything like it. Or been as tempted to let the fierce need that had settled in her chest have free rein.
She wanted him.
A simple emotion with the most complicated set of outcomes.
He was her boss.
He was a wealthy, powerful man who could have anything he wanted.
And he was hiding something.
The first two might be overcome or even ignored in the pursuit of pleasure, but the last was what held her back. She hated secrets, equating them to the same lack of power and control that had ruled her childhood.
She’d vowed to herself long ago never
