Kaz Volkov stood outside the non-descript red-brick building on Damen Avenue in Chicago. Blue summer skies shone above and he shielded his eyes from the sun as he stared up at the pink and white sign affixed above the door.

Charmante it proclaimed in elegant script lettering.

Hmm. Not exactly the digs he would’ve expected for a scumbag like Danny Charman, but with a wily weasel like him, anything was possible. Kaz glanced to either side before straightening his black T-shirt and heading inside, ducking slightly to avoid beaning himself in the head with the shiny brass bells hanging from the door. He fought the urge to cover the Bratva tattoos on his arms. Not that he was embarrassed by his heritage or his work, but in places like this sometimes going more incognito was better.

Inside, the long narrow room had more exposed brick walls and gleaming pickled oak floors. Along each side of the space were racks of clothes in all different hues and lengths and styles. Cold air blew down on him from a vent in the ceiling and the air smelled of lemony floor polish and expensive perfume. It was the sort of establishment where even the brass fixtures screamed pricey.

Several of the snooty ladies milling about the place stopped and openly gawked at him, only making Kaz feel more out of place than he already did. Given his height, six-five, and his profession, Bratva Boyevik or warrior, he was used to getting his share of stares. The frequency, however, did not make him like it any better. He shook off his awkwardness and strode confidently forward through the displays of silk pieces and clean, crisp tailored separates that looked sharp enough to cut him if he handled them the wrong way. He preferred classic, well-made clothes with clean lines and no-fuss details. Like the T-shirt and Levi’s he wore today. Things like that never went out of style.

He headed over to a long white counter against the opposite wall and the woman standing behind the cash register, apparently engrossed in whatever was on her laptop screen. She’d not looked up at all since he’d walked in, only said a polite “Hello” and “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you find today” in a distracted voice.

Broad shoulders squared, he approached the woman, taking in her slim yet curvy shape and brilliant red hair gleaming beneath the recessed overhead lighting. She appeared younger than him—maybe mid-twenties—and had the most spectacular pale skin, like silken cream. Kaz stood before the desk and cleared his throat to get her attention. She still didn’t acknowledge him, which only made him more determined to get her attention. Summoning his most commanding tone, he said, “My name is Kazimir Volkov. I’m looking for Danny Charman.”

The woman kept on working on her books, frowning and tapping the tip of her pen against the paper. It was almost like she purposely wanted to avoid him. Maybe she did. He wasn’t exactly the “right” kind of clientele for her shop. “He’s not here.”

Annoyed, Kaz stepped closer. Usually he stayed in the background, knowing many people found his size intimidating, unless he planned to use his bulk to get his point across. But this woman was pushing all of his buttons today. Either that or it was just a typical Monday afternoon. Or both. “Where is he? It’s imperative I speak with him immediately.”

The brusqueness in his voice finally had her meeting his gaze, the piercing olive-green of her stare nearly knocking him back a step. He’d always been partial to green eyes, but man-oh-man. That gaze of hers took her from being merely pretty to being downright gorgeous. Not that he noticed. Nope. Not at all. Her jaw jutted out stubbornly as the toe of her designer pump tapped a staccato rhythm on the hardwood floor. “What do you want with him?”

It took him a moment to draw his focus away from the way the silky top of her dress hugged her slender curves and the soft plumpness of her pink lips to concentrate on the conversation again. When he did, however, Kaz found her expression showed supreme annoyance.

“We have business together,” he said, matching her prickliness and upping the ante with a side of aloof arrogance. “The rest is none of your concern. He said this was his address.”

“I see.” She closed her laptop at last and leaned forward to rest her arms atop it, giving him a perfect view straight down the V-neck of her black silk top. He could barely see a hint of her black lace bra and the valley between those creamy globes and his body tightened a bit in response. “Well, I’m sorry, but it should be apparent to you, this is a place of business. My brother’s not here.”

“Your brother?” Now it was Kaz’s turn to be irritated. Not at her, but at Mikhail Salko, his Bratva boss or Brigadier. He’d sent Kaz on this critical mission without full background information on his target. Which basically was setting him up for failure. Not a good sign. Then again, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. When Kaz’s half-brother Nik had fulfilled his contract with the family and been released from duty, Salko took over as Brigadier to their group. Now Nik was settled down with his fiancée Daphne and was working for some managed care company in the Chicago suburbs. Nik’s younger brother, Ben, also a former Bratva buddy and Kaz’s half-sibling, was married off to Lucy and running his own construction company in Chicago. They’d just had their first child two months prior. Which meant he was now Uncle Kaz to a delightful, delicate, beautiful baby niece. Until his brothers had been released from their Bratva contracts, Kaz had never given much thought to a life outside the Russian mafia. Perhaps someday, he might want a wife and child too.

But right now, someday seemed like an eternity away. He still had another three years on his contract, unless he performed a duty above and beyond the call—like Nik had done in going after the dirty cop who had killed their friend Tolya or like his other half-brother Ben had done by reclaiming the Bratva’s funds from the traitor who’d betrayed them all.

He covered his shock at finding out that Danny had a sister by giving her his best, most intimidating scowl. She straightened and crossed her arms, but otherwise appeared unfazed.

“What’s your name?” he asked her, his voice gruff from his constricted throat.

“Allie Charman. This is my store.”

“Huh.” He glanced around at the racks of garments again. “You make these things?”

“I don’t make them. I design them. Most of these are my designs, though I do carry a few select other Chicago designers as well.” She raised a brow at him. “Why? Looking for something for your girlfriend?”

“No. I’m here to find Danny. That’s it. Can you tell me where to find him?”

“Maybe. Why are you looking for him?”

“As I said, I can’t tell you that.”

“Then I can’t help you. Sorry.” She flipped open her ledgers again and he fisted his hands at his sides, a muscle ticking near his tense jaw. Without sparing him another glance, she added in a voice with just enough edge to it to keep it from being sincere, “Have a nice day.”

Not used to being ignored, he reached over and closed her book again, lowering his voice to avoid the shoppers nearby hearing. He’d not wanted to deploy the fear card, but she was leaving him little choice. If civility didn’t work with her, perhaps scaring her would get her to reveal her brother’s whereabouts. “He owes a friend of mine some money.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh and hung her head. Given her brother’s past history of shady schemes and bad business dealings, Kaz suspected he was not the first such visit she’d received on behalf of her wayward brother. Which, now that he thought about it, probably explained her rude behavior toward him. That knowledge almost made him feel sorry for her. Almost. Compassion wasn’t an emotion prized in his profession.

“How much does he owe this time?” she asked, her gaze lowered and her cheeks pink.

“With interest? Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“What?” Allie blinked at him then, her eyes wide with horror. She gave a quick scan of the patrons around her then led him over to a small office in the far corner of the shop. The plain white walls of the shoebox sized room were bare, except for a few abstract sketches of couture fashions surrounded by black metal frames. There was a tidy desk, two chairs, and one lonely house plant. Not much else. “Tell me what he’s gotten himself involved in now.”

Kaz stared down at her, a good six-inches shorter than him and rested his hip against the desk to lessen their height difference. He didn’t want to intimidate her. He needed her help to complete his mission. If he didn’t get the money back from her brother, Salko would make Kaz pay it back himself and while he made a comfortable living doing the Bratva’s dirty work, he didn’t have that kind of spare cash laying around either. “Danny borrowed one-hundred-fifty thousand dollars from my organization to invest in an Internet startup company. But the venture folded and now he’s missed several payments on the loan. According to the terms of his deal, he’s in default and now the balance is due in full this Friday. I’ve been sent to collect the debt.”

He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. It was beginning to look like Danny had given them this false address on purpose, probably thinking the Bratva would go easy on his sister and that it might buy him more time to escape. The idea turned Kaz’s stomach—both the running away like a coward and the fact that Danny would put his own family in such a dangerous position. If anyone ever did that to his mother, he’d be livid.

“And what is your organization?” she asked, gaze narrowed, drawing him out of his thoughts.

He considered lying to her, but what was the point? She’d find out sooner or later anyway. “The Bratva.”

“Oh shit.” Allie turned away, the color that had been creeping into her cheeks now draining away. “Dammit. I told Danny not to get involved in anymore of his stupid, half-baked schemes. But he’s always chasing that easy buck that’s just over the next hill.” She shook her head then glanced back at Kaz over her shoulder. “I hate to ask, but what happens if he doesn’t pay?”

“Things would not go well for him,” Kaz said, holding her pretty green gaze. Truth was, the Bratva would do everything they could to take Danny in alive. Otherwise they’d never get their money. But those words didn’t have the same shock value, so he fudged a bit to get his point across. “Your brother could meet with an unfortunate accident and be hurt badly. Or worse.”

“Fuck.” She blinked hard and stared up at the lights above, sniffling slightly. Kaz’s first instinct was to reach out and comfort her, but he quickly squashed that urge. He was a Bratva warrior, hard-hearted and unsympathetic to her woes. Her brother had brought this upon himself and now he needed to be brought to account for his sins. Besides, better Danny than Kaz.

She winced and hung her head again. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Then I would suggest you and your family let Danny face responsibility for his actions. Perhaps it’s the wake-up call he needs to get his life on track again.”

“No.” Allie turned to face him so fast, Kaz nearly got whiplash. “Danny can’t be hurt. Our mom—she’s not well—and if something happened to him? It might kill her.” She exhaled slow and looked around her shop, as if she were adding up the value of each item hanging on the racks. Even so, the passion for her work evident in her expression and the warmth in her eyes. “This place is my life. My dream—I wish—” She shook her head and swallowed hard, as if she was holding back whatever else she’d been planning to say.

Her tragic tone and expression pinched his heart, but Kaz just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He understood having a dream, understood wanting something so bad only to have it taken from you in an instant. But he had to stay strong. This was his job, his responsibility to collect Salko’s money or face the dire consequences himself.

When she didn’t say anything more, he steeled himself against his emotions. “Your brother seems to be nothing but an immature, lowlife cheater trying to skip out on his obligations. I think you—”

“I’ll pay it.” The force in Allie’s voice severed his statement. “I’ll get the money.”

Kaz frowned. “But you just said you didn’t have it. I would guess your family doesn’t either or he would’ve gone to them already. What will you do? You only have until the end of the week.”

“I’ll use this place as collateral. I’ve built Charmante into a strong business. I have clients around the world through my online site, and—Look, I was just going over my financial statements and it’s worth at least two hundred and fifty thousand. Maybe more. Will that satisfy your friends?”

Surprised, Kaz considered her offer. If what she said was true, then Salko should be satisfied. He could sell her inventory as he saw fit to maximize his profit, perhaps even come out a bit ahead on the deal. Of course, Kaz would have to verify all her financials before making any type of decision.

The confident businesswoman who’d greeted him when he arrived, now stood before him brokenhearted and fearful. Regret stabbed him in the chest. For reasons he didn’t want to contemplate at the moment, all he wanted was to restore her arrogance to the glorious levels she’d shown when he’d first walked in the place. Maybe he could solve two problems—get the Bratva’s money and restore Allie’s confidence—at once, if he played this right. “Fine, but we will need to discuss this further. Have dinner with me tonight.”

“What?” A bit of her original boldness returned. “No, I didn’t mean to imply I was part of the deal.”

Realizing his verbal fumble, Kaz quickly recovered. “I didn’t mean to give you that impression. I will need to go over your business records in order to make sure the assets of this business will cover your brother’s debts. I thought doing this outside of the shop and with food might make it more comfortable for you. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Back came that soft pink to her cheeks, and damn if that tightness didn’t return to Kaz’s body again. He shoved it aside, however. He’d been too long without a woman, that was it. Nothing to do with the female before him. Nothing at all. Allie shrugged and had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, I guess that would be all right then.”

“Perfect.” Kaz straightened and headed for the front entrance. “Meet at Villa Italia after closing.”

* * *

At six-forty-five that evening, Allie stood outside the chic Italian restaurant on Monroe Street, staring up at the half circle awning overhead and wondering what in the world had ever possessed her to say yes to this meeting.

Oh, that’s right. Danny. The golden child of the Charman family was in trouble.

Again.

She sighed, then entered the elegant restaurant, glad she’d worn a simple black sheath dress that day. It moved easily from day to evening, as did most of the pieces she designed for the active, modern woman with a career and family. So far, she’d managed the career part just fine. The family part? Not so much. Then again, after tonight, the career part might be down the tubes as well.

A maître d’ greeted her in the foyer. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’m meeting someone here.” She peered around the huge fancy dining room, expecting to be able to pick out the enormous thug who’d entered her shop earlier without an issue. But beneath the golden-toned overhead lights and the swirling burgundy tones on the walls, she didn’t see anyone who looked like the man threatening Danny. She shifted her attention back to the snooty looking man standing behind the reservation book and gave him a small smile. “His name is Kazimir Volkov.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Volkov.” Some of the color seemed to drain from the man’s face as he tucked a menu under his arm and then bowed slightly. “Right this way, please.”

He led her back through a maze of tables and booths to the quieter, more private area of the large dining room. Her thoughts raced nearly as fast as her heart rate, the heels of her designer black pumps clacking on the shiny marble floor. She’d promised to sign over the rights to Charmante in order to protect Danny, but now that she’d had all day to think about it and the time had come to follow through, her courage was faltering. Fashion design had been the only thing she’d ever wanted to do. From the time she’d been seven and won that Halloween costume contest in grade school she’d been bitten by the fashion bug. Her parents had never really understood her obsession with clothing, nor had they realized at the time how important that contest win was to her. In fact, they hadn’t even been there. They’d been off watching her little brother play soccer. Allie had been disappointed at first, but she’d gotten over it, just like she always did. She knew the score. Danny was the favorite, Danny’s needs came first, no matter how important her shop was to her. Danny found a way to ruin everything.

“Here we are,” the maître d’ said, stopping before a cozy table for two in the corner.

Allie blinked twice, having a hard time matching the dapper, tailored suit-wearing man before her with the T-shirt and jeans tough guy from earlier.

Kaz stood and motioned for her to take the seat the maître d’ was holding for her. “Miss Charman, please.”

Stunned, she forced words past her tight vocal cords. “Thank you, Mr. Volkov.”

“Kaz, please,” he said, taking his seat again as the maître d’ handed her a menu then left them alone. Kaz looked so different dressed in his fine black wool and crisp white button-down shirt. The material perfectly conformed to his broad shoulders and muscled arms and the deep red of his tie nearly matched the hue of the abstract artwork on the wall behind him. “I am pleased you decided to keep our appointment tonight.”

She cleared her throat and stared at the menu in her hands instead of him. He looked far too attractive and much more dangerous to her now than he ever had in her shop earlier. A run-of-the-mill thug she was used to dealing with where Danny was concerned. Lord knew this wasn’t the first time one of his dumb schemes had gone south over the years. But this slick, edgy, ruthless-looking businessman was something else entirely. “Well,” she said, picking up her water goblet with a shaky hand and taking a sip. “You didn’t give me much choice, did you?”

His warm green gaze narrowed at that and a slight frown puckered his brow. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Miss Charman.”

“Allie, please.” She went to cross her legs and their knees brushed under the table. Allie pulled back fast, shimmers of awareness floating through her from the brief contact. Yep. This guy was dangerous indeed. “If you’re going to screw me over, we might as well be on a first-name basis, right?”

His dark brows rose and he sat back, a slight smile curving his full lips. “My intention was never to screw you over, Allie.” His gaze made a slow once-over down her body then back to her eyes. “My only goal here is to recover the funds your brother owes to my boss.”

Kaz’s deep, rumbly voice—tinged with that decadent Russian accent—made her feel warm all over. She found it both hypnotizing and soothing, oddly enough. The twinkle in his eyes said he wasn’t unaware of his effect on her. She gulped more water and scowled at her menu. Enough with this silliness. She was a respected entrepreneur in the community, a business owner. She had a frigging college degree from the prestigious School of the Art Institute of Chicago. The last thing she needed to be doing right now was drooling over some Russian gangster in a custom-made Italian suit, no matter how tempting.

Their waiter arrived and they placed their orders—Bistecca di Manzo for him and Tagliatelle alla Bolognese for her—then sat back as a sommelier poured them each a glass of fine red wine.

Once they were alone, Kaz sat forward again. “Tell me about your store.”

She snorted. “Boy, you don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I don’t mean the financials,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “We can get into those later. Tell me why you started Charmante.”

“Why would you possibly care about that?”

He watched her for a moment, a flicker of some emotion she couldn’t quite identify flickering through his eyes. Hesitation, perhaps, or self-deprecation. Kaz exhaled slowly, resting his forearms on the table, the tattoos she’d spied earlier on him hidden by his suit coat. His feet brushing her again beneath the table. This time she didn’t pull away. “I want to understand.”

“Understand what?” She looked away, sipping more wine in the hopes it might help calm her rioting nerves.

“Why you would give up something that obviously means the world to you.”

Damn. She would have to get the tough guy with a heart, which on second thought might be a good thing. Maybe she could prey upon his sympathies to work a deal for her brother that wouldn’t involve her losing her business. She’d not intended to get personal with him in any way tonight, but the alcohol now fizzing in her system coupled with the fact she’d been too busy to eat all day loosened her inhibitions. Allie shrugged. “Charmante is my dream come true. I started the business online before I’d even graduated college. Once I was out on my own, I worked hard and saved for a few years and was finally able to open the boutique on Damen. That place represents five years of my life, five years of my blood, sweat, and tears.”

He shook his head, his expression vexed. “So why would you give it all up for a guy who clearly has no sense or scruples?”

Her own anger rising, Allie stared him down across the table. It was one thing for her to talk badly about Danny, but it was another for an outsider to do so. “Danny’s my brother. He’s family. Don’t you have anyone in your life you’d give everything to save?”

His shoulders sagged and the pain in his intense green eyes made a twinge of empathy swell inside her before she tamped it down. The man was a gangster. She should want to run far and fast in the other direction, not hug all his hurts away. She drank more wine instead, clutching her hand tight in her lap to keep from reaching for him. Kaz leaned back in his chair and toyed with the stem of his wine glass with his long, tapered fingers. “Only my mother.”

“Is she the only family you have?” Her chest pinched with unexpected sympathy for the guy.

“No.” He frowned briefly. “I have two half-brothers, but they don’t need me. They have families of their own now and can take care of themselves.”

Allie bit her lower lip. She couldn’t say exactly why—maybe it was the wine or the fact that this could be the end of everything she’d worked so hard for—but she wanted to know more about him, more about what would drive a man to do what he did for a living. She sensed a wealth of conflict inside him and a plethora of unresolved pain, and that wounded warrior type always drew her in like a beacon. Another thing she could blame on her brother Danny, her need to rescue men who needed saving. “What about your father?”

He gave a derisive snort and looked away. “What about him? He left my mother and me behind to start a new family. The only legacy he left me was the Bratva.”

“You joined because of him?” she asked softly, knowing it was none of her business but powerless now to stop the question from coming.

Kaz shrugged one muscled shoulder. “Him and my two half-brothers, his sons from his new wife. At the time, my mother was sick, so I joined the Bratva to help pay her medical bills. My boss and the family leaders said I should be proud to avenge his death by serving the family, but all I just wanted was the money. Why should I care about a lying bastard who left me behind, eh?” His voice lowered to nothing but a rough whisper. “I shouldn’t.”

Her breath caught at the raw anguish in his tone. He shouldn’t care, but the edge of pain in his tone said he still did. Silence weighed heavy between them until the waiter brought their salads and a basket of fresh bread. The sommelier refilled their wine glasses then they started eating.

About halfway through her salad and his soup, Kaz finally spoke again.

“You should keep that in mind,” he said.

“Keep what in mind?”

“That this is all about the money.” He tore into a dinner roll. “As nice as the items in your shop looked today, I doubt they’re worth a quarter-million-dollars. If you turn all of the inventory over to my boss and give up everything for your brother and it still isn’t enough, what then? How will you pay the remainder?”

She swallowed a bite of crunchy romaine lettuce covered in spicy Italian dressing and frowned. “I don’t know. I guess I’d start over. Build a new brand and business and pay off what I could when I could. I used to waitress and work as an office temp during college. I can do those things again too, if needed.”

He gave her a flat look, his tone disparaging. “See? This is what I’m saying. You’ve already decided your brother deserves everything and you’ll be left working your fingers to the bone to support him. How can you do this to yourself? How can you think so little of yourself?”

“I won’t be left with nothing,” Allie said indignantly, her feelings hurt more by his remarks than she cared to admit. She was a strong, powerful, self-reliant woman. She made her own choices, took care of herself. For him to imply otherwise was infuriating. “And I think plenty of myself. I won’t be left with nothing because I’ll always have my passion for my work. Loving my brother and loving my work aren’t exclusive, you know. My heart’s big enough to hold them both.” She finished her salad then pushed her plate aside and leaned back crossing her arms. How dare he sit there and judge her choices when his own hadn’t been stellar either, at least not if you went by his current occupation. “I happen to believe that if you have love and passion for what you do in life, you’ll always find a way.”

Kaz chuckled, the sound low and deep and infinitely sarcastic. “Bullshit. You can’t live on love. Love won’t pay your rent or put food in your stomach. Love is nice, but it’s a resource like everything else and you have to spend it carefully. And you can’t love two things equally. One of them will always come first. Always.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree then.” She drained the rest of the wine in her glass as the server returned to remove their dishes before the main course was served.

“I guess so.” As Kaz sliced into his New York Strip steak and she twirled her pasta around her fork, they got down to business at last. “Let’s talk about your financials.”