6

Asher

There’s an old saying: the devil resides in calm waters.

I doubt Camila knows this proverb. Unfortunate for her, but advantageous for me.

Inside the car, darkness envelops us. In this space, only she and I exist. The driver is inconsequential to me. The men waiting to follow us are irrelevant. Right now, all that matters, if only for a moment, is the satisfaction of having her. Camila is in my grasp.

Pulling out my phone, its screen casts a faint blue glow in the car’s interior. It outlines the edges of her jaw, highlighting each strand of hair that has come loose from her once pristine updo. She’s beautiful, even in fear. Perhaps... more so, in a peculiar way. She reminds me of a vibrant butterfly resting on a flower. They stand out in the world, demanding attention. Yet for all their splendor, a gentle touch can crush them into dust.

“What are you going to do with me?” she demands.

Such boldness. Even now, here, trapped with me. I ignore her, focusing on typing a message to Mila. It’s crucial to inform her promptly of the situation. There’s an opportunity—a significant one—to accomplish something monumental tonight.

Me: I have what I need to swiftly end the conflict with Yannick. Now, you must play your part.

After sending the text, I return my phone to my pocket. Turning to face Camila, I interlace my fingers on my lap. Her eyes widen, her chin quivers as she struggles to maintain composure. She’s on the edge of breaking.

“I asked,” her voice trembles, “what are you planning to do with me?”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

Camila falls silent and draws her knees together, tucking herself into a ball. She wedges into the window to get as far from me as she can. Without a word, she makes it clear what she expects. Movies have done a wonderful job creating the cultural fear that a gorgeous woman like her would be captured for only one thing.

I don’t bother correcting her fear.

It’s good for her to be afraid.

The car jolts forward, startling a small gasp from her plump lips. She has a thin indentation down her bottom lip that fascinates me. During our meeting tonight, it was a frustrating struggle to stay focused instead of staring at her damn mouth. The mouth that called you a murderer, I remind myself. She’s not wrong.

Still … I’m amazed she had the spine to come see me tonight, knowing what she did.

Reclining in my seat, I roll my neck to loosen the muscles. “As long as you cooperate, ptichka, you have nothing to fear. But if you try to turn against me?” Lifting my fist between us, I crack my knuckles. Camila flinches. “Now, please, enjoy the ride.”

She doesn’t speak after that. I’m tempted to goad her into some kind of response; I have a wicked urge to get a rise out of this woman. I can’t explain the desire, or more likely, I don’t want to. You’re just riled up because you’ve got her. That’s all it is. I’m a cat playing with his food. Raw instinct doesn’t need an intelligent explanation.

A whiff of orange peel enters my nose. In the small pocket of the car, there’s no avoiding her smell. Shifting around, I make myself stare out the window. The city sprawl is vanishing the further we drive. There’s less light pollution, but I can still make out the shapes of scraggly trees, their bodies bending to the will of the breeze. Briefly, I wonder if Camila might bend to my will.

She breathes out softly. My fingertips clench on my thighs, digging into the muscles. How can she capture so much of my attention when she’s doing nothing?

I send a covert glance her way. That’s when she notices me noticing how she’s trying to slide her phone out of her jacket. Quick as a whip, she shoves it down deep, looking nervously out her window. We both pretend she wasn’t trying to call for help. I’m impressed she tried, but it’s a useless gesture.

I don’t tell her that though. Why not let her have a little glimmer of hope? It’s always better to give her that glimmer before extinguishing it for good.

“Here we are,” I say, spotting the hard lines of my home’s tall gates in the distance.

Camila leans forward to look. It brings her only an inch closer to me, but I feel every bit of it. “That’s where you live? It’s huge.”

“Plenty of room for guests like you.”

She gawks at me in disbelief. With a vague smile, I rest my chin on my fist, elbow on the door beside me. The car rolls through the massive gates with their spade-shaped tops. Anyone crazy enough to try and climb over would gut themselves before they managed it. And even if they did manage to get over, the guard would make quick work of them long before they reached where they needed to go.

The floodlights spanning the vibrant green yard illuminate the red and white roses. The chilly weather hasn’t beaten them down. Their soft petals wave as we pass, the edges of their wicked thorns gleaming from the corner of my eye. Camila’s gaze lingers on the flowers. She cranes her neck in the car to watch them through the rear window. I take note of that. I notice everything about her.

She’s still looking behind us when the car halts in the huge circular parking area by the mansion’s front doors. “The ride is over,” I say softly.

Camila has just enough time to look at me, and that’s all she gets before I reach for her. Grabbing her by the elbow, I yank her from the car. She shouts, thrashing the whole time.

“Let go of me!” she demands.

“In a moment.” Spinning her with ease, I press her chest against the side of the Escalade. She lets out a shocked whimper. The sound is decadent to my ears, and it sends a thrill through my body. I didn’t plan to enjoy this part. I’d never claim I was a good man, but maybe I’m more twisted than I realized. Leaning my weight against her spine, I breathe into her ear. “Hold still. I need to blindfold you.”

“Why?”

“Be a good girl and do as you’re told, for once.”

One of my men approaches and passes me a thick black square of cloth that I expertly twist around Camila’s eyes. Tying the knot behind her head, I’m careful not to tangle her long hair in the binding. My fingers trail through her luscious strands as I finish. It’s impulsive … exciting. The carnal lust in me flares again.

Focus on your task, I remind myself firmly.

I go to grab her jean jacket. In the process, my fingers slip beneath, exploring the curve of her shoulder blades through her sweater dress. The ribs on the cloth tease my fingers with their soft texture. A whimper exits her lips. I shut my eyes, gathering myself. She’s a walking sex dream. Shit.

Ten of my boeviki, my soldiers, are gathered in a tight perimeter around us. “Listen closely. Camila is a guest and not to be harmed.” One by one, I look them in the eye. “If you break this rule, I’ll find out; then I’ll break every single finger in your hands.”

None of them react. They know better than to defy me.

Holding Camila by her jacket, I shove her toward two of my men. I do it harder than I need to, like she’s a hot furnace that scalds to the touch. She rocks away from the hands that hold her. I can’t see her eyes, but I can tell she’s searching for me. Staying where I am, I watch and wait for her to argue. She’s been making demands since the beginning. There’s no way she’ll stop now.

Amazingly, she angles her head downward. Her pretty lips form a grim frown, but she doesn’t speak. I’m confused by her sudden compliance. She’s not fighting … not even begging. My urge to taunt her, to get a rise out of her, is interrupted by my phone buzzing.

The men haul Camila toward the mansion while I walk further away. Eagerly, I look at my phone. My joy shatters when I read the text.

Mila: Yannick showed up, just like you predicted. Couldn’t get a clear shot without causing too much extra damage.

Clutching my phone hard enough that the veins throb in the back of my hand, I growl under my breath. I push my knuckles between my eyebrows. The pressure hurts at first, but slowly, it relieves the tension in the back of my skull. It’s okay. Stay calm.

Exhaling through my nose, I gaze back at my mansion. My men are nowhere to be found. I don’t have to see them to know that they’re there. Some prowl the perimeter of the yard; others are tucked away like bees in a hive, ready to swarm at a single word from me.

No one can get inside. No one can get out.

I didn’t get Yannick tonight. But now I have her, which means there’ll be many more chances.