Alex Forbes strides into the lobby like he owns every soul in it. My heart slams to a stop. No. It can't be. Trailing him are Max Hastings and Vincent Manning.
No one ever breathed a word about who bankrolled Haus of Sin.
And now here they are, my brother’s three best friends.
Portland's untouchable trinity. Ex-Army Rangers turned billionaire kingpins.
The ground tilts under my feet.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
"Alex," Deanna breathes, her venom morphing into syrupy submission, voice trembling on the edge of a purr.
"It's been a while, Raina," Alex says, his gaze locking onto mine, dismissing Deanna like she's furniture.
"You three know her?" Deanna's voice cracks, shock bleeding through her polished facade.
Vincent cuts her off with a single flick of his wrist, pure authority. "That's enough, Fox. Go."
She shoots me a glare laced with venom and future vendettas, then pivots on her heel, sashaying up the staircase like a queen in exile.
Asher and Delia watch from above, their smiles quiet knives of amusement.
I feel like fresh meat tossed into a den of starving wolves.
"Why don't we step into the office," Alex suggests, his tone casual but leaving no room for debate.
I nod, my pulse quickening as I follow them through the lobby. Their presence shifts the air entirely.
The office is stunning. Masculine. Mahogany, leather, thick carpets. Shelves full of rare books. A wall of windows looking out over snow-dusted statues frozen in their silent worship.
Alex leans against his desk, silver threading through his hair, dark eyes sharp and knowing. He looks like a man who has never been told no and never needed to ask twice.
"It's been too long," he says, crossing his arms as he sizes me up—not predatory, but appraising, like he's seeing the woman I am now, not the foster kid from years ago.
He looks unfairly good for forty-five. Broad shoulders, strong hands, calm authority that could command armies.
I shift my weight, fingers twisting the strap of my bag. "I had no idea it was you three behind this," I choke out, panic clawing my throat. "Kaleb's best friends? Running Haus of Sin? If I'd known, I never would have set foot here."
Max chuckles from his spot by the window, hands in his pockets, all easy confidence. "Yeah, we figured that might be your reaction. Hence the... anonymity. Job posting through our holding company. No names. Standard practice for places like this."
"Places like this," I echo, the words tasting sharp. I glance between them, heart still hammering. "Meaning what, exactly? Kaleb mentioned you guys had side ventures, but this?"
Vincent settles into a leather chair, legs stretched out, his dark eyes steady on mine. "Side ventures that stay private. Investors like discretion. We provide it. But yeah—surprise. How's your brother holding up, by the way? Hillsdale project's keeping him buried?"
"Good. Busy." I hesitate, folding my arms like a shield. "Look, if Kaleb finds out, he'll lose it. You know him."
Alex nods slowly, no defensiveness, just acknowledgment. "He will. At first. But he'll listen if it comes from me." He pauses for a beat, his eyes on me. "Your call, Raina. We're not here to create family drama."
Max tilts his head, green eyes glinting. "Speaking of drama... Kaleb filled us in on Jeremy. The whole mess."
A spike of tension shoots through me. I stiffen, heat creeping up my neck. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"That the guy was an idiot," Alex replies evenly, eyes lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle. "Didn't recognize your worth. Dumped you, tanked your job at The Kane. Classic fool move."
Max leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Idiot doesn't cover it. Firing you? Their loss. We've eaten there—your food was always the highlight. They'll regret it when word gets around."
I force a tight smile, grounding myself in professionalism even as my mind races. "Appreciate that. But let's be clear—I took this job thinking it was a private winter estate gig. Chef only. No... extras."
