Chapter 4

THE DEVIL POV

It doesn’t take five minutes before Uccellina was found. (little bird)

Her escape plan was doomed from the start. If one of my many men guarding my house haven’t caught her, my trained dogs would have her running back into the house for safety.

I stare across the backyard lake, vodka cooling in my tumbler. She’s been under my roof less than an hour and she’s already a headache I didn’t need.

It isn’t too late. I could throw her out on the street and be done with it. Better yet put a bullet in her skull like I meant to. The latter leaves a metallic tang in my mouth. No.

Anger knots in my chest at the very idea that I might feel anything for her. I don’t do soft. I don’t keep people alive for sentiment. Elara is the daughter of a traitor. Nothing more.

I take another sip and the vodka bites down, but it doesn’t warm me. It only sharpens the edge of my irritation.

Luca’s voice blooms behind me. “She’s been found.”

I glance over my shoulder to see him filling the doorway. I stand six feet four, but Luca is a giant who is about six feet eight.

“Take her to the room in front of mine.”

“Yes boss.” He disappears promptly, leaving the quiet to settle back in, heavy with the consequences of my choices.

I stay a beat longer than necessary because I can. Because I want to prove that I’m not eager to see her again. Then I stride down the corridor and stop at the door where Elara waits.

She stiffens the instant I step in, sliding back on the bed until her spine hits the headboard. Good. Fear is useful. I need her to fear what I can do.

Her dress has ridden up, revealing a smooth sweep of exposed leg that makes my fingers itch for violence.

For a second, I almost reach for my gun and shoot anyone who saw her like this. The thought tastes of iron and madness. Thankfully, self-preservation drowns it out. No way I’d spill my men’s blood for a woman.

Elara watches my every move as I cross to the side window by the bed. I let the quiet sit in the room, heavy and suffocating, knowing how it unsettles her. When I turn back, I pin her with my gaze and let her feel the weight of it.

“Did you enjoy your little run, Uccellina?” I murmur, tasting the tremor that slides down her spine at my voice. “Did the night air taste like freedom?”

She says nothing. Her fists clench the sheets like a venomous thing. It’s almost laughable. So much fury in such a small frame, as if she could tear me apart with her bare teeth.

A thrill spreads in my chest. I’d like to see her try. Then my forehead pinches with disgust at the thought.

“Your escape attempt was cute. Ill-informed. But cute,” I add.

“You’re sick,” she spits.

I tilt my head. “Strange. So far, women have only called me handsome.”

“They should get their eyes checked,” she blurts out, biting her lip already too late.

I smirk. She can’t even help herself.

“You should get your eyes checked.”

She sighs, her shoulder slumping. Disappointment claws at me. Giving up already? How boring.

“Just let me go, okay?” she says after a beat, licking her lips like she’s bargaining. “If you do, I won’t report you to the cops. You don’t even have use for me.”

“I can think up a few.” And it starts with her beneath me, her face flushed in pleasure, and her lips parted in moans while I—

No. I have better control than that.

She presses on. “I have a sick sister who needs me.” I already have one of my men watching her sister where she is, but I don’t tell her that. “She’ll worry if I don’t show. Please just let me go.”

I tilt my head, letting the silence hang over my words so she can feel it.

“No.”

Her pleading face darkens with anger. “You can’t keep me here forever. I’ll keep trying.”

Before my brain catches up with my limbs, I’m on her.

Her eyes widen and for a second, I catch the softness of her skin as I lift her chin to meet my gaze. Fuck. Regret snaps through me the instant I pull my hand back. Now I know how she feels under a touch.

“Did you truly believe you could run away from me?” I ask, voice level, more amused than cruel. “You think there’s a corner of the earth you would go that I couldn’t find you?”

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t try,” she whispers.

I shove a hand into my pocket and nod. “Of course you could. Free will.”

 The words send something raw through her. Rage pours out of her in a hot, trembling rush. “Free will? You kidnapped me. Had me dragged here against my choice.”

“You’re here because of your father,” I say simply. “That was his choice.”

If Adrian hadn’t stolen from me, I’d know nothing about his children. If blame belongs anywhere, it belongs with him.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, despair crosses her face quickly, but I catch it before she masks it with cool resentment.

I smirk. “You know that already, don’t you?” I close the distance between us, voice calm, almost indulgent, as she shakes her head in denial. “You just don’t want to face the part your father played in all this.”

The look flashes back in her eyes hotter, fury and heartbreak tangled together.

My hand finds her chin again before I can stop myself. She gasps, the sound soft in my chest. Those green eyes pull me in like a riptide.

“You know why you’re at my mercy?” I murmur. “Because your father couldn’t care less. He stole from me, vanished, and left you and your sister behind, knowing exactly what I’m capable.”

A single tear slips down her cheek, her lips trembling. I release her before I do something reckless like brushing it away.

Nausea coils in my throat with the tightness in my chest. For reasons I can't name, the idea of her crying makes my skin crawl.

My tongue clicks. Is this what they call love at first sight?

I scoff it down. I don’t possess a heart. Or perhaps I lost that the first time I tasted warm blood.

I was twelve when my step mother handed me a gun and I shot the man who had been trailing me for a week, hoping to take advantage of a homeless, scrawny kid who couldn’t fight back.

I knew something was wrong with me when instead of recoil, I felt a rush mere staring at blood drain out of him. And a grin split my face for the first time after my mother’s death.

Whatever this is, it’s nothing a good fuck won’t fix. Once I’ve had her, this spell she cast on me will die where it began.

“So tell me,” I say, holding her gaze, “am I the cruel one here or is your father?”

“Why?” she rasps. “Why go this far?”

I sigh. “Beats me.” Hell, I’ve been asking myself the same question since the moment I brought her here.

I turn on my heel and walk for the door, leaving the question, and her trembling silence behind me.

“I hate you,” Elara sneers, and the sound makes me smirk.

“Get in line.”

“I hate you so much,” she shouts after me. “Every day I’ll pray for your downfall—”

I stop mid-step. I’m not religious, but I’m superstitious enough to not welcome anyone praying for my end.

“Appreciate the sentiment, but no.”

Her eyebrows knit, and I just clear my throat, already moving for the handle.  

“Diana,” I call.

I’ve decided I need to fuck her; might as well get it over with.

Diana appears a heartbeat later, eyes flicking to Elara behind me and then landing on me.

“Clean her up, and bring her to my room.”