The scent of tobacco and leather curled through the air like temptation.

Hunter Groves sat behind his dark obsidian desk in the upper office of Devil's Den, a space more like a throne room than a workspace. Dark velvet curtains muted the afternoon light, casting the room in shadows and low amber tones. The soundproof walls kept the chaos of the club below at bay, isolating him in his own twisted kingdom.

Two days.

Two goddamn days since he saw her.

Mirabella Antonio.

His little doll.

Her ...