Page 26 of Deadly Devotion
I’m torn between feeling like I belong with him and knowing I must escape the mansion and go to San Francisco with Sandy. It’s the best thing I can do to stay safe and keep my baby and Sandy safe. Aleksandr will find Mikhail’s killer with or without my help, so he doesn’t need me to stick around.
“I’m feeling a bit wiped out. I should get to bed,” I tell him, stifling a yawn.
“I will take you.” Before I know what’s happening, he scoops me in his arms and cradles me to his chest.
“I can walk,” I giggle, feeling awkward letting him carry me.
“Why walk when I can carry you?” Aleksandr smiles at me, and I melt in his arms. Moments like this make it difficult for me to want to leave the mansion—to leave him.
Snuggling into his neck, his scent of cinnamon and cloves engulfs me. He carries me into the house, up the stairs, and to my bedroom. Laying me gently on the bed, he covers me with a blanket and then kisses me sweetly on the head.
“Good night,kiska. Have pleasant dreams.“ He turns off the light and closes the bedroom door behind him.
I lie there staring at the door. The room feels empty and cold without Aleksandr. I pull the blanket up to my neck and wrap it tightly around my body. I want so badly to tell him about the baby and my feelings for him, but I’m scared—too scared to consider ever telling him. Tomorrow, I will figure out a way to leave the mansion.
Chapter 18
Aleksandr
Sleep eludes me tonight, just like every night since Mikhail’s death. The weight of vengeance hangs heavy on my shoulders, and Talia’s unexpected presence complicates matters further. She’s a means to an end, a bargaining chip until I find Mikhail’s killer. But my heart, traitorous as it is, yearns for something more with her—a connection I dare not entertain.
Curbing the need to go to Talia’s room, I slip out of bed and go to the office, seeking solace amidst the papers and shadows that fill the space. She has gotten under my skin like no other woman ever has. I thought I could forget her. I thought I left her behind in San Franciso. But as luck would have it, she wound up in my city, my mansion, and my life. Pouring a glass of whiskey,I ask myself if it really is luck or if I manifested her here. I’ve thought about her every day since I left San Franciso.
The ringing of my cell phone distracts me from my thoughts. Reading the name on the display, I see it is Dimitri.
“Tell me you have good news.”
“I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” Dimitri replies.
“Give me the bad news.”
“I didn’t get any new information about Mikhail’s killer. But we did find Adachi’s men. Two of them escaped, but we caught the third little fucker. He’s bound and gagged in my trunk.”
Finally.“I’m glad to hear our plan worked. Take him to the dungeon,” I command over the phone, my voice low and unwavering. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.” The dungeon is a relic of our darker past, buried deep in the mansion’s basement. It’s a special place where I get information from people unwilling to share it.
An hour later, I descend the stairs into that cold, stone-walled chamber. The captive’s eyes widen with fear as I enter. Interrogation is an art, one that demands precision and patience. But tonight, my patience wears thin.
Adachi’s man is tied to a chair in the middle of the cold room. There are no windows and only one door at the top of the staircase. The only illumination comes from a single light fixture hanging over the chair. Old, dried blood splatters stain the walls and floor. A steel table is flush against the wall in the corner of the room. Instruments of torture are laid out neatly on the table.
Pulling out my gun, I push the barrel against the captive’s forehead. He blinks rapidly, focusing on the gun between his eyes. “Do you know who I am?” I ask.
“Y-yes,” he sputters.
“If that’s the case, then you’ll know I’m a man of few words. Tell me where my drugs are.”
“I-I don’t know,” the captive lies.
His wide-eyed stare bounces wildly between me and Dimitri. I push the gun harder against his forehead.
“I swear!” he squeals. “I don’t know where they are!”
I pull the gun away from his forehead and strike him with the butt. He spits out blood and a tooth.
“Talk,” I instruct.
“Adachi doesn’t tell us anything. I don’t know where he’s keeping the drugs.” He coughs, and blood dribbles down his chin.
“Wrong answer.” I point the gun at his foot and pull the trigger. He howls in pain as blood pours out of the bullet hole.