Page 33 of Devil’s Reign

He lifts a curious brow. “Oh, you’ve found some hidden information?”

I hesitate, then sheepishly admit, “Well… No.”

“Then how did it work?”

I straighten my spine. “I’m in your inner sanctum now, aren’t I? I’m bound to find something⁠—”

He lifts a finger to his mouth, shushing me. Despite myself, I swallow my words. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he says, a growl growing in his voice. “No idea what happens to people who see what they shouldn’t.” His warning is full of implied terror, but he also just shushed me, so I won’t let myself back down again.

“Oh, do you kidnap all the women who witness your crimes?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the exception, not the rule.”

That shouldn’t make my heart thud, damn it. I’m not special. “So what do you usually do with people who’ve seen you murder someone?” I’m getting bold now. Too bold. But I’m stretched to my wit's end, and an irresistible curiosity is boiling deep inside my gut.

How many exceptions has Ivan Petrov made in his life?

“I prefer to snuff the life out of anyone stupid enough to be where they shouldn’t be.” The growl in his voice rumbles up like approaching thunder. He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but it still makes a hollow pit open in my stomach. This is who he is. A killer. A man who ends lives without hesitation.

“Is that your way of admitting my brother is dead?”

“Your brother worked for me. Anything he witnessed was meant for him to see. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t hurt him either. Neither did any of my brothers,” he adds, already anticipating the questions forming in my mind. I don’t know how to feel about any of this.

If the Petrov brothers aren’t behind Luciano’s disappearance, what does that mean? Do I even believe him right now? Mamma wouldn’t. Oh, God—my mom.

“Then you need to let me go,” I plead. “I need to find out what happened to him. And I need to let my mom know I’m alright. She must be losing her mind by now.”

Another flash of that possessiveness crosses his face—stronger this time, impossible to miss. “You’re not going anywhere. If you’re truly worried about your mother, I’ll have her brought here.” Before I can even process that, he turns and walks out, slamming the library door shut behind him. Just like that, I’m alone. What the hell just happened?

For a moment, I just stand there, glancing around the beautiful space that had me thrilled minutes ago, entirely unable to reclaim any of that enthusiasm. Then my unfocused gaze lands on the books scattered across the floor, and my thoughts are dragged back to his heated kiss. I remember the way I responded. Fuck. Does he really not know anything about Luciano’s disappearance? Or is he just saying that to lower my guard? To make me soft and pliant so he can have his way with me? You weren’t so worried about Luciano when you were kissing Vanya.

I shove the thought out of my head. I can’t afford to be distracted by this attraction between us. He’s hot—obviously—and clearly interested in me. Of course, I want him back. It’s a normal reaction. Basic biology. Hormones. Nothing more. That doesn’t mean I have to let it control me.

Still, when I glance around the library again, my chest goes tight with conflicting emotions. He dismantled his entertainment room to build this. For me. Spent what must have been a fortune to fill it with books in less than twenty-four hours. Could a guy who does something like that really be that bad? Maybe. But somewhere under that hard, dangerous exterior, there must be a thoughtful, even sweet core…

“No, no, no,” I mutter under my breath. Don’t humanize him. That’s the trap. Keep your distance. Sure, it’s fine to think he’s attractive, to kiss him here and there, maybe even to have sex with him eventually—I’m not delusional enough to pretend that won’t happen. The pull between us is too intense, too combustible. Sooner or later, it’s bound to explode. But that’s all it can ever be. Just sex. Just physical release. I can’t let myself care about who he is as a person or what makes him tick. Can’t let my heart get involved. That would be just begging for disaster.

Frowning, I walk over to the books scattered on the floor and slowly begin picking them up. I try to distract myself as I arrange them on the shelf, but I barely even register the gorgeous covers and spicy blurbs. Normally, an army couldn’t stop me from plopping right down and devouring these one after the other. But my mind is stuck on Vanya. His words replay in my head, over and over, until I get stuck on the very last thing he said.

If you’re truly worried about your mother, I’ll have her brought here.

My stomach twists. He didn’t mean he’d kidnap her… right?

I scoff at myself. Of course he did. If Ivan Petrov says he’ll have Mamma brought here, then he will. Whether she wants to come or not. “Maybe it’s for the best,” I mutter as I slot the last book into place. If Mamma’s brought here, I won’t have to worry about her going out to work or getting caught by the Sciarras. And without that fear hanging over me, I could focus entirely on finding Luciano. My racing heart sinks. Oh, Luciano, where are you?

I walk to the sofa and collapse onto my back, staring up at the golden light of the chandelier. The warm glow is hypnotic, and I watch the light play across the ceiling as conflicting thoughts and emotions swirl through my mind. I don’t know how long I’m lying there before the idea pops into my head. An idea so insane that I nearly smack myself for even thinking it… or for not thinking of it sooner.

What if I could get Vanya to fall for me?

I mean, obviously he’s just as attracted to me as I am to him. He’s also clearly willing to go out of his way to make me… well, “happy” probably isn’t the right word—but comfortable? He built this library just because I asked for some books. And that’s not even counting the bathroom he stocked with every product imaginable or the wardrobe that rivals a department store.

If that’s what he does when he wants me… what would he do if he loved me? The thought makes my heart squeeze, and I sit up on the sofa, really contemplating the possibility.

What would it feel like to be loved—truly loved—by a man like him? Someone intense, consuming… maybe even tender beneath all of that hardness? Suddenly, I want nothing more than exactly that. Vanya’s love.

But how do I get it? I don’t have much experience with men… but I have read books. Lots of them. Some of them have to be helpful, right?

I’ve heard it said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But I don’t read cookbooks. I read smut. And smut says the way to control a man is through his cock.