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Chapter Three : A world of his own
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The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Ninety-four : Isolde Calls
The tracker was now in the back of a delivery van. Lorenzo's people had arranged it within two hours, a nondescript vehicle making a genuine route across the city, moving at the pace of ordinary commerce, stopping at the intervals that ordinary deliveries stopped at. If her aunt was monitoring its signal, what she would see was a tracker travelling through the city in a pattern that suggested someone was running errands. Going somewhere unremarkable. Living an unremarkable life. Natalie watched the van's progress on the screen in the study for a few minutes and then stopped watching because there were more important things and because there was a particular satisfaction in it that she didn't entirely trust herself to sit with for too long. Satisfaction like that had a way of making you careless. She was reviewing supplier contracts at her desk when the call came in. Not Isabella. Not her aunt. Not any of the numbers she had grown accustomed to monitoring. Isolde. She stared at
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Ninety-four : Isolde Calls
The tracker was now in the back of a delivery van. Lorenzo's people had arranged it within two hours, a nondescript vehicle making a genuine route across the city, moving at the pace of ordinary commerce, stopping at the intervals that ordinary deliveries stopped at. If her aunt was monitoring its signal, what she would see was a tracker travelling through the city in a pattern that suggested someone was running errands. Going somewhere unremarkable. Living an unremarkable life. Natalie watched the van's progress on the screen in the study for a few minutes and then stopped watching because there were more important things and because there was a particular satisfaction in it that she didn't entirely trust herself to sit with for too long. Satisfaction like that had a way of making you careless. She was reviewing supplier contracts at her desk when the call came in. Not Isabella. Not her aunt. Not any of the numbers she had grown accustomed to monitoring. Isolde. She stared at
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Ninety-four : Isolde Calls
The tracker was now in the back of a delivery van. Lorenzo's people had arranged it within two hours, a nondescript vehicle making a genuine route across the city, moving at the pace of ordinary commerce, stopping at the intervals that ordinary deliveries stopped at. If her aunt was monitoring its signal, what she would see was a tracker travelling through the city in a pattern that suggested someone was running errands. Going somewhere unremarkable. Living an unremarkable life. Natalie watched the van's progress on the screen in the study for a few minutes and then stopped watching because there were more important things and because there was a particular satisfaction in it that she didn't entirely trust herself to sit with for too long. Satisfaction like that had a way of making you careless. She was reviewing supplier contracts at her desk when the call came in. Not Isabella. Not her aunt. Not any of the numbers she had grown accustomed to monitoring. Isolde. She stared at
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Ninety-Three: Aunt Zulu's Visit
The letter took forty minutes to read. Not because it was long , two pages, front and back, the handwriting small and unhurried , but because certain things needed to be set down and picked back up again. Certain sentences required the particular attention that you gave to things written by people who knew they were running out of time and had chosen to spend what remained of it on you specifically. When they finished Lorenzo had taken the letter and folded it back exactly as Irina had folded it and placed it inside the notebook and closed the cover. He had done it with a care that struck Natalie as one of the most quietly reverent things she had ever watched another person do. Neither of them spoke for a while after. The morning had moved on around them, the light in the kitchen shifting from early grey into something warmer, the sounds of the house staff beginning their day filtering through from other rooms. Ordinary life, proceeding as it did. "She named names," Lorenzo said
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Ninety-Two: Irina's Last Letter
The notebooks arrived at seven in the morning. Four of them. Bound in dark cloth, the kind of plain, practical notebooks you bought without caring how they looked because what went inside them was never meant to be seen. Anita had arranged the courier overnight , some chain of hands and locations that Natalie didn't ask about and Anita didn't offer , and they sat now on the kitchen table in a row, slightly worn at the corners, the handwriting on the covers small and precise and entirely ordinary. Irina Roman's name was on none of them. Just numbers. One through four. The discretion of a woman who had learned to keep her most important things unmarked. Natalie made coffee. She made enough for two, which meant she was expecting Lorenzo, which meant she knew without having checked that he had been awake since before she was. She poured both cups and sat at the table and looked at the notebooks for a moment before opening the first one. She had read the transcription last night. Th
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Ninety-One: The woman who hid Matteo
By eleven that night, the house had gone quiet. Lorenzo was still upstairs, buried in calls. Natalie sat alone at the kitchen table with Anita's file open in front of her and a cup of tea she had forgotten to drink. The first thing she found was her name. Not hers. Irina. Irina Volkov before she became Irina Roman. Natalie read slowly. Forty-one when she died. Breast cancer. Officially. A clean death. Almost too clean. She went back to the page. The diagnosis had come six weeks after Irina found Matteo. Natalie stopped. Six weeks. She circled the date. Then she kept reading. --- Irina had been a teacher when she met Viktor. No money. No powerful family. No reason to belong anywhere near the Roman empire. She was twenty-eight. They met at a gallery opening. Viktor had been there for reasons she never knew. He charmed her, married her within a year, and slowly changed the shape of her life. She stopped teaching six years into the marriage. But she never gave up the
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Sixty-Two : Little to Imagine
His gaze sharpened, a shadow passing over his face. “That’s irrelevant now. It was a mistake to even consider it.” “Tell me,” she urged, stepping closer, her hand finally reaching out, her fingers brushing his arm. The contact was electric, a jolt of raw sensation. “Please, Lorenzo. Tell me the t
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Sixty-One : Begging for mercy
The next morning, the mansion felt different. The air was heavy, thick with unspoken words and an oppressive silence. Lorenzo was gone. His usual early morning presence, the faint scent of his coffee, the distant sound of his voice on the phone—all absent. Anita, her eyes downcast, brought her a
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter Two : The devil's wife
Natalie looked around for the source of the voice. Her eyes found a pair of intense sea green eyes.With long black hair and a rolled up shirt. At the corner of the altar, her uncle stood eyes bulging in surprise, sweat broke out on his forehead. He dabbed at it furiously. Viktor's eyes narro
The Devil Who Bought Me Chapter one : Her wedding Day
Natalie stared at her reflection in the mirror and barely recognized the girl looking back. Her hair was curled and pinned like a porcelain doll’s. Her makeup, subtle and expensive, masked the growing storm in her eyes. The gown—a soft champagne gold with crystal embroidery—clung to her body like
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