Obsessive Boss (Bratva Brothers 4)

Detective Rylan chuckles like he knows I'm asking for a favor beyond the usual request. Probably because I'm calling him well past his working hours. It's nearly eight. The man probably doesn't work a minute past five o'clock. Club Sage is just heating up, and Rylan is likely winding down, someplace scummy with a drink. Thankfully, he's not at the club, which would put a damper on the situation and my mood.

Heading back inside the club, the VIP room door is still shut. With the music blaring, I can't hear a word happening inside the private suite. It's probably for the best.

I swore I'd never been the jealous type. I also vowed not to get involved with any of the girls who work under me. I'm not the least proud that I'm running information on Savannah and hoping that nothing turns up.

Then, I can assume her curiosity is because she's a handful and not playing me.

The doubts keep itching, and I hurry past the VIP area for the lounge, heading behind the bar. I pour myself a whiskey, needing a bit of a bite to handle the rest of the evening with Mikhail and the ladies.

The girls are in the lounge with fruity cocktails on the plush red sofa, watching Violet dance on their table. She's a cute dancer with a great pair of tits and ass, but she's nothing compared to Savannah.

I've got it bad for the new girl.

She's more than just that to me, more than just a fling unless that fling involves crashing at her place every single night.

It's no wonder Nikita is well aware that I'm seeing someone. He's put it together who that someone is, and it's only a matter of time until Mikhail insists on meeting her. I want to show her off on my arm, take her out, and prove to her that I'm not just her boss.

But it's complicated with her weaseling into my office and snooping.

I try to ignore that Savannah is nowhere in sight. I could watch the cameras and see what she is doing, but last I checked, she was in the VIP Room. She'll be there for quite some time; if anything suspicious or improper happens, the security team will deal with it.

"Can I get you ladies anything?" I ask as I approach Mikhail's entourage. He, however, has disappeared out of sight. I'd surmise that he's up in Nikita's office, going over a few business obligations last minute.

"More drinks," Madisyn says, showing me her empty glass.

Lucy begins to stand, and I give her a pointed look to sit back down. She's off the clock tonight and is not responsible for getting drinks for her friends. "Give me your drink orders, and I'll take care of it."

They rattle off girly, sweet drinks, and I head to the bartender, having him prepare the concoctions. Another waitress delivers the drinks while I wander the club, ensuring everything is going according to plan.

Dmitri stands guard near the door. He's not checking IDs. That's Viktor's job.

"How's it going?" I ask, approaching Dmitri.

He stands tall, his back to the wall as he watches the door. "No recent sign of trouble," he says. The Italians and the Colombians shouldn't be aware that Mikhail is at the club tonight, but his presence always puts us on high alert.

"Recent?" I ask.

"One of the cartel's associates came to the door, trying to get in. We turned him away."

"Good." I should relax at his words, but tonight it's not a time to unwind and relax. I'm on the clock, and the Pakhan is on the floor or, at the very least, in the club.

We have our men constantly watching the leaders of the mafia and cartel. It would be foolish not to expect the same of our enemies.

* * *

The club winds down near closing, and Mikhail has already left with Madisyn. Hannah and Lucy drive back with Nikita while I glance around to ensure the doors are locked and everyone has left.

There's no sign of Savannah. Usually, she's hanging out in my office after closing or in the dressing room if the girls are still changing and packing up.

The lights are off in the dressing room. There's no sign of her anywhere.

Did she leave without so much as a goodbye?

I shouldn't care, but I do. I don't even have her cell phone number on my phone. I could glance at her resume or employment paperwork to grab her number, but I'm not that obsessed.

Maybe I'll swing by her apartment and make sure she made it home.

How did she get home? She doesn't have a car, and I usually give her a ride home. The subway isn't too far, but I hate thinking she walked the streets alone at this hour.

Could she have gone home with her VIP client?

Bile rises in my throat.

No. She wouldn't do that. She's not that desperate for money.

But what if it wasn't about the money? What if she genuinely likes the client?

"You heading out, boss?" Dmitri asks as he pulls out his keys.