by Addison Fox
“You don’t seem happy.”
“You were forced to finish the infinity pool installation all on your own.”
“It was fine. It’s my job.”
“I don’t expect you to work at three in the morning.”
“But that’s what was required to—”
Once again, he cut her off, his frown carving deeper grooves in his cheeks. “It’s not required and it isn’t healthy.”
Although her role as lead of the horticultural program at the Archangel was the pinnacle of her career thus far, Evangeline had worked her way up to the position, taking jobs up and down the Strip since moving to Las Vegas shortly after college. She’d spent her career working long hours and had never once been reprimanded for it.
An image exploded in her thoughts—the burning man on the grounds. She’d briefly forgotten him in the tempting testosterone of the Stavros brothers but the strong memory hadn’t lain dormant for long.
Did Rafe know? Was that why he didn’t want her working late? Curious, she pressed him. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing to my responsibilities.”
“Your responsibilities don’t require you to keep a schedule of eighteen straight hours of manual labor. It’s neither healthy nor good for you.”
“I manage just fine.”
“It’s dangerous work if you’re tired.”
“Yes, well the holiday season comes once a year and leaving beds of empty dirt all over the property where plants should be is hardly festive. I’m not a slacker like your former horticulture lead and I’d think you would appreciate the effort.”
“It’s not a matter of appreciation.”
“So maybe you should say thank you and we can move on.” Evangeline waited for the inevitable result of her bold words—narrowed eyes and a small layer of shock at her frankness—before she pressed her advantage. “Or perhaps you’d like to tell me why there was a burning man on the property at three o’clock this morning?”
* * *
Rafe had to give her credit—Evangeline Kennedy was crafty. Able-bodied and brassy, she’d come into the Archangel like a whirling dervish and almost eleven months later hadn’t slowed down. She fascinated him, with her long, coltish gait and thick, curly hair that was perpetually piled atop her head.
But it was her eyes. A rich brown the color of the finest dark chocolate. Every time he looked at her, he could swear she saw him to the very depths of his soul.
She had old eyes. Ancient eyes. Just like the curse he bore upon his body as surely as it was the greatest gift he possessed.
She’d intrigued him immediately, the woman who’d stood on his property, giving hell to the former horticulture expert they’d had on staff. Although Don Casey had a strong reputation throughout Las Vegas, Rafe and Gabe had soon discovered the man’s penchant for the bottle had dulled his artistic sensibilities to be virtually nonexistent. He’d been on the hunt for someone new when Evangeline took matters into her own hands.
Presumably visiting the property one evening on a stroll down the Strip, she’d seen Don butchering an installation, designed to look like a heard of African elephants marching in a row through the lobby. She’d berated Don, then ripped several tools from his grip. Evangeline was on her knees, patting a thick hoof into place in the lobby when Rafe had come upon her.
Gabe had quickly ushered Don away, saving what small amount of pride the man had left, leaving Rafe to deal with the dirt-stained harpy in his lobby. He’d nearly yelled right back at her until he saw the small, frustrated tears that filled the corners of her eyes.
And damn it to hell, if she hadn’t caught him by the balls in that moment, and all the moments since.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Stavros.”
Images of those big brown eyes, swimming with the lightest sheen of tears, faded in the face of those same eyes, alight in banked fury. “What are you talking about? If anything was burning on my property beyond the couples on the dance floor at Spark, I’d know about it.”
“Last night. The property outside the greenhouse. I saw a man burning.”
“Impossible.”
Rafe knew just how possible it was, but he held his ground, unwilling to break his gaze. “I am aware of all incidents that happen on property and nothing burned last night.”
“Then explain to me what I saw.”
Rafe folded his hands behind his back and stared down at her. He only had a slight height advantage and estimated her around five-nine or -ten to his six-two. “A late-night hallucination after pushing yourself for eighteen hours?”
“I know what I saw.”
“And I know what goes on here at the Archangel. We had no fire last night.”
The slightest tilt of her head was the only sign she mulishly didn’t believe him, but she was all business when she next spoke. “I brought the designs you requested.”
“Let’s get to them.” He gestured her to a seat at the long conference table that dominated the far wall of his office.
In moments, he had visions of a forest glade rising in his mind, scattered with wood nymphs, centaurs and sprites as she walked him through her designs. “You want an evil queen, too?”
“She has to be there.” Evangeline tapped on the edge of the layout, the paper equivalent of the west side of his lobby. “It’s an enchanted forest, drawing the guest from an inviting jaunt past the fairy glade farther and deeper into the installation. Once they realize they’re in the queen’s clutches, it’s too late to turn back.”
“And you can do this in a week?”
“With your approval my team will start construction of the basics this week. We’ll create the forms off-site and bring them in for the final installation just after the New Year.”
“No rest through Christmas?”
He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, the idea that she took no time for herself. He was no stranger to work, the casino business a twenty-four-hour-a-day job.
“I wasn’t aware the casino closed during the holidays. And I’ve made provisions in the timing to accommodate everyone’s reduced vacation schedules.”
“And what about you?” He laid a hand over hers. “Will you be taking some vacation?”
Her hand stiffened beneath his, but Rafe was intrigued to see she didn’t remove it. “I have no need of vacation time now.”
“Nor have you taken any since joining the Archangel?”
She slipped her hand from his, folding the large architectural rendering into a roll. “What’s this sudden interest in the hours I work?”
“I’m a concerned employer. All work and no play makes one dull and uninteresting.”
A small smile tugged the corner of her lips. “I spend my days doing what I love. Vacation is unnecessary.”
Rafe stilled, the security review he’d conducted at five that morning—post-recovery—filling his thoughts. “I love what I do, as well. It doesn’t negate the need to change the scenery every now and again. Do something simply for myself.”
She inclined her head ever so slightly, but didn’t back down. “As is your choice.”
“These designs are approved.”
The rapid change in subject had the desired effect, her eyes hazing over briefly as she sought to keep up. “Approved? Just done?”
“Yes.”
“No one else has to see them?”
“Who else would?”
“Right.”
When that cute look of confusion continued to stamp itself across her face, Rafe added, “I know quality when I see it. I also know an idea that will bring people into my casino, potentially enticing them to stay and play. Your fairy glade and evil witch will be a perfect enchantment once the holidays are over.”
“Thank you.”
“I only have one question.”
&n
bsp; “What’s that?”
“What happens when they get past the evil queen?”
Evangeline tapped the rolled paper on the table, all confusion gone from her eyes. “It’s all up to the guest.”
“Oh?”
“They can turn right back the way they came. Or they can push past her and straight on through to the other side and try their luck in your casino.”
“Cowardice or greed, Miss Kennedy?”
“I’d say it fits most people to a T.”
* * *
He couldn’t say why his conversation with Evangeline unsettled him, but three hours later Rafe was still restless as he prowled the casino floor. He’d spent a few moments glad-handing the high rollers, thanking them for their business and ensuring they were comfortable with all the Archangel’s accommodations. As three of the five individuals he met with had been back several times, he took it as a noteworthy sign his staff was exceeding expectations—as expected.
After the floor visits he moved on up to Security. The command center was the heart of the property’s sophisticated security system and the high-tech room boasted a setup as slick as NASA, only with newer equipment. He and his brother had maintained his father’s practice—all technology was upgraded annually.
The Archangel was their business and their sanctuary and they were committed to it staying profitable and safe. As a result, the security team was handpicked and compensated handsomely for seeing to both.
“Floor’s looking good today.” Charlie, the husband of one of Rafe’s multitude of cousins, greeted him. The grizzled ex-marine had shoulders like a linebacker and eyes as flat as a cobra. And two pictures of his one-year-old twin daughters dotted his console, both decked out in frilly pink.
“No issues with the weeklong bachelor party in quadrant six?”
“Nope. All of ’em already moved on to their rooms, the decidedly overt flirtations of a group of conference goers reassigning their priorities.” Charlie shook his head. “Casino hormones. Nothing else on earth as powerful.”
“Except how cute Alexis and Andie are.”
Those flat eyes warmed immediately, Charlie’s gaze flicking to the photos of his girls. “They’re amazing. And will be locked up in roughly two decades to avoid the same sort of business that recently went down in quadrant six.”
“No casino hormones for them?”
“Over my dead body. And any men who dare to touch them.”
A thoroughly unpleasant image filled his mind’s eye at the clear promise in those words as Rafe patted Charlie’s shoulder. He was about to head to Gabe’s office when something caught his eye on the pool cams. “There.” Rafe pointed toward the top row of screens. “Zoom in on the west pool.”
Charlie moved quickly over the console, the image transferring to a larger viewing screen in the center of the room. “This what you want?”
“Yep. Zoom in on the area in front of the greenhouse.”
Charlie did as he was asked, but his tone was speculative as he manipulated the image on-screen. “Busy part of the property. I hear the night crew spent quite a bit of time on this sector last night.”
“Son of a bitch.” Rafe shook his head, another more inventive curse following his first. “Damn fool woman.”
Although Charlie’s shift to the big screen in the center added breadth and depth to the image, Evangeline was just as unmistakable on the smaller screen. She moved over the area in front of the greenhouse, her steps slow and plodding as she retraced the night before.
But it was the moment she knelt and bent toward the earth, her hands roaming over the exact spot where he’d burst into flames, that had Rafe out of the security room and headed for the far side of the Archangel.
Chapter 2
Evangeline traced and retraced her steps, searching for anything that might prove there was a fire in the area in front of the greenhouse. Yet no matter how hard she searched, each blade of grass was as pristine and green as the one next to it.
She knew horticulture. And the earth. And how the soil nurtured what grew within it. Fire was a natural form of renewal, even with the immediate destruction it left in its path.
But she also knew herself. She trusted her instincts and she sure as hell trusted her eyes.
And last night she saw a man burning in this very spot.
Yet Rafe Stavros stood there this morning, plain as day, and told her nothing had happened the night before on the property.
Was he hiding something? She’d spent her life in Las Vegas and was well aware of the city’s more seedy reputation. More than a few had lost their souls in the desert—gambling was a gateway to any number of crimes. While she’d always believed she worked for one of the more honest and upstanding employers on the Strip, it was always possible the Stavros family was into any number of poor practices.
“What are you doing out here?”
Evangeline popped back on her heels as the low voice washed over her from behind. “Checking the grass.”
“For?”
She thrust her chin out and stared up at him. “Signs of burn marks.”
“Find any?”
“No.”
It shocked her how defeated she felt. She knew what she’d seen, damn it. A man stood in this very spot the night before, on fire. People didn’t just imagine those things.
Even if your mother had?
The small voice whispered through her mind, as scary as it was real. Her memories might be that of a child’s, but Evangeline could still remember the sleepless nights as her mother descended into madness.
“Come with me.” Rafe stood above her, his hand extended. She took in those long, tapered fingers, the strength in them evident as she accepted what he offered.
“Where are we going?”
“For reasons that elude me, you seem offended when I suggest you’re working too hard.”
“I most certainly am no—” Her words—and the corresponding tug of her hand against his—were cut off as Rafe pulled her against his body.
A reply died in her throat as she took in the hard, firm lines of Rafael Stavros. Absorbed them, really. Although she’d—reluctantly—had more than a few thoughts about that body pressed against hers, she couldn’t deny the raw power she felt in the thick musculature beneath that finely cut suit.
Oh, what would it be like to simply stay there, wrapped in the protection of that large, powerful body? He channeled it well, his physicality. Wielded it as easily as he wore five-thousand-dollar suits and several generations of Stavros wealth.
Rafe moved through the gentle swish of electronic doors, the cool, refined air of the hotel wafting over them. His feet echoed on the thick marble floor, a sound of purpose and power, while her sneakers thunked and squeaked beside him. It was only when they reached the entrance to the spa that Evangeline registered their destination.
“What are you doing?”
“You need some rest and relaxation. As luck would have it, I can provide both.”
“I’m not going in there.”
“You afraid of a little massage oil?” The question was flat—bland, even—but Evangeline didn’t miss the unholy light that flared in his gaze. The normal storm-cloud gray had turned a liquid silver, tempting and oh so tantalizing as they stood in the entrance of the spa.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then after you.”
He gestured her forward and she had the choice to stay stubbornly still or nod and move forward.
“Mr. Stavros.” The woman who headed up the spa—Madelina, Evangeline remembered—came up to them immediately. Her gaze showed nothing but Evangeline couldn’t quite squelch the urge to hide her dirt-stained hands behind her back. “How can I be of help today?”
“My friend here needs the full spa package.�
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Madelina’s gaze shifted to assessing, scouring Evangeline head to toe, before she gave a solid nod. “Hot stone massage. Ninety minutes. Facial. Manicure. Pedicure. With paraffin, of course.”
“Of course,” Rafe added, his voice solemn, even if that light in his eyes remained stubbornly, wickedly, bright.
“I don’t need any of this. And I certainly don’t need goop on my fingers when all I’m going to do is shove them right back into the dirt.”
She held out her hands proudly, trying to prove her point when Madelina’s elegant fingers wrapped around hers, stilling Evangeline’s movements. “Then it’s all the more important to protect your greatest asset.”
“Call me when she’s finished.” Rafe bit out the edict before turning on his heel.
Although it nearly killed her, Evangeline threw her last card. “I don’t have the money for this.”
Rafe barely gave her a backward glance. “Then it’s good you know the owner. I’ve got plenty.”
* * *
Rafe flipped through the file he maintained on Evangeline. He managed the materials himself, unwilling to go through the security team on the details of her or her background.
Orphaned at seven.
Bumped to several foster homes before declaring as an emancipated minor at sixteen.
Worked multiple jobs after that, including a flower shop in Henderson, a crummy little casino barely making it down on Fremont, and wedding bouquets for a nearby chapel.
“Doesn’t let any grass grow under her feet,” he muttered, an image of her doing just that filling his mind’s eye. She wasn’t going to give up on her supposed man on fire and he damn well knew a few hours of spa time wasn’t going to change that.
Rafe continued scanning the file, his careful notes an accompaniment to the various pieces of intel he’d gathered over the past year. Her background had been surprisingly easy to uncover, even with his ability to get details on most anyone he wanted. There was easy and then there was easy, and Evangeline fell into the latter category.
And what he’d learned during that investigation had stopped him cold.
Her father had been a Hunter, focused in and around Las Vegas for the legion of Chaos-seekers who hunted Rafe and his people, the Helios. Their age-old enemies, the Hunters believed eradicating the Helios would unleash their master—Chaos—on the world.
