All Chapters of Sinfully His: Craving The Devil's Son: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

120 Chapters

Red Lights

POV: ClaraOne second I was blinded by the crystal chandeliers and Victor’s terrifying smile, and the next, I couldn't even see my own hands. The silence lasted maybe a heartbeat before the screaming started. People were stumbling into each other, glasses were shattering on the marble, and the air got thick with the smell of spilled champagne and panic.I felt a hand clamp onto my upper arm like a vice. It wasn't a gentle "are you okay" kind of touch. It was Victor. His fingers dug into my skin, right into the muscle, and I gasped as the pain flared up my shoulder. He was squeezing so hard I thought my bone might actually snap under the pressure."Don't move a muscle, Clara," he hissed into my ear. His voice was vibrating with this raw, jagged edge that made my blood turn to ice. He sounded like a man who was finally losing his grip on the mask he’d been wearing for fifty years."Victor, you're hurting me," I managed to choke out, my voice lost in the noise of the crowd.He didn't

Wrecking Ball

CHAPTER 62POV: NikolaiI watched the mansion go black from the shadows of the hallway, the silence following the crash of the circuit breaker feeling like a punch to the gut. It was my hand that pulled the lever, and honestly, it was the best thing I’d felt all week. That sick performance on the stairs—the pink dress, the crystal glasses, the "heir"—it was too much. Victor was parading a ghost around the room and calling it a future. I had to kill the lights just to stop myself from walking up those stairs and taking his head off in front of the whole board.I moved through the dark like I’d practiced, my boots silent on the heavy rugs. I reached the study in less than a minute, the heavy oak doors feeling like a barrier between me and the truth. I slipped inside, the air smelling like stale cigars and the kind of ego that only a man like Victor can cultivate.I pulled out the tiny, silver discs from my pocket. They were the latest tech, smaller than a dime and twice as lethal if yo

The Weight of a Promise

POV: ClaraVictor arrived at noon, the way he always did when he wanted to remind me that even my meals were his to control.The door opened without a knock — because why would he bother? — and two of his men brought in a silver tray draped with a white cloth. The kind of tray you would see at a five-star hotel, the kind that made cruelty look refined. Victor followed behind them, hands in his pockets, already talking before he had even settled into the chair across from me."I have been speaking with the architects about the East Wing," he said, crossing one leg over the other as his men set the tray on the small table near the window. He did not dismiss them immediately. He let them stand there, as though witnesses made his performance more worthwhile. "There is a room at the end of the hall that gets the morning light. I want it for the nursery."I sat on the edge of the bed and said nothing, because that was the only thing I still had — the choice not to give him words he could tw

Red Wine and Raindrops

POV: Nikolai'Rain, rain, go away... Come again another day. Little children want to play... rai, rain fo away.'It was loud, it was chaotic, and it was the perfect cover for everything Camille and her father weren't supposed to hear happening upstairs.I sat at the head of the table, leaning back with a look of practiced, expensive boredom. My father’s formal dining room always felt like a museum—cold, stiff, and smelling of beeswax and old money. I hated it. I hated the way the candlelight flickered against the heavy silverware, and I especially hated the way Camille was looking at me from across the table. She was wearing a dress that probably cost more than a mid-sized sedan, something silky and champagne-colored that clung to her in all the right places. Usually, I’d at least pretend to appreciate the view, but tonight, every time she blinked those perfectly lashed eyes at me, I felt a twitch of genuine irritation under my skin."Nikolai, darling, you haven't said a word about t

Worth The Risk

POV: NikolaiThe guards are right outside the door.I can hear them shifting their weight, the creak of leather boots on hardwood. They're maybe ten feet away. Maybe less.And I've got Clara pinned beneath me on this bed, her dress already halfway up her thighs, my mouth on her neck like I'm trying to devour her whole."Nikolai," she breathes, and I can hear the fear mixed with want in her voice. "They're right there. If they hear us—""Then be quiet," I tell her, my hand sliding higher, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thigh. I want to leave marks. I want her to feel me tomorrow, the day after, every damn day until Victor's claim on her is nothing but ash.She bites her lip, stifling a sound, and I grin against her skin."Good girl."I shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not now, not with Victor's men standing guard like we're prisoners in her own damn room. But that's exactly why I am doing it. Because she's mine. Not his. Never his.My hands move with purpose, pulling her

His plaything

POV: ClaraI was staring at the beige paint on the wall, trying to count the tiny bumps in the plaster, when the door finally clicked open.For the last hour, the silence in this hospital wing had been heavy, the kind of silence that feels like it’s pressing against your eardrums. I knew the lead doctor was out there talking to Victor. I knew they were discussing the blood results.My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a desperate, rhythmic thumping that seemed to say, please let it be true, please let there be a miracle.But the look on Victor’s face when he walked in told me everything I needed to know. The miracle was dead.He didn't look angry. That was the problem.If he had been red-faced, if he had been smashing the expensive medical equipment or screaming at the nurses, I would have known how to handle it. I was used to the storm. But this? "The doctor is very sorry, Clara," Victor said. His voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon, and just as toxic. "H

Rushed plans

POV: NikolaiThe text came through at three in the morning, a jagged line of words that made my blood turn to actual ice. It was from Elena, one of the kitchen maids I’d been slipping envelopes of cash to for months.She usually just told me what Victor was eating or if he’d had a bad day at the office, but this was different. This was a death sentence."They're giving her hormones," the message read. "And they're in high doses. Victor ordered the medical team to prep the suite for permanent residence. She’s not coming out, Nikolai. He’s going to keep her under there permanently."I stared at my phone screen until the light burned my eyes. Permanent residence. That was just a fancy way of saying a gilded cage where she’d be too drugged to remember her own name. My hands were shaking, and I had to grip the edge of the kitchen counter just to stay upright. I’d been playing the long game, trying to be careful, trying to be smart. I thought I had time. I thought I could chip away at Vic

Escaping From Victor (1)

POV: ClaraThe clock on the wall was ticking so loudly it felt like someone was tapping a hammer against my skull. Every second that passed was a second closer to the end of me. I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, my fingers digging into the thin mattress, watching the red second hand sweep around and around. Six o'clock. That was the deadline. That was when the nurses would come in with the first round of "treatments" that Victor promised would make me a perfect, mindless vessel."I’m not a doll," I whispered to the empty room. "I’m not a doll."I kept repeating it like a mantra, but my voice sounded small and hollow. The hospital room felt like a tomb. The air was too clean, the sheets were too white, and the silence was way too heavy. I kept looking at the vent near the floor, hoping for another vibration, another sign from Nikolai, but there was nothing. Just the hum of the building and the sound of my own panicked breathing.What if he didn't come? What if the guards caugh

Escaping From Victor (2)

POV: NikolaiI didn't find the stacks of offshore cash or the gold bars I expected. Instead, the inside of the safe was packed with rows of black leather-bound ledgers and thick, expanding files. My hands were shaking as I pulled the first one out. I flipped it open, and my stomach did a slow, sickening roll. It wasn't just corporate greed. It was a map of a nightmare. Drugs, human trafficking, routes through ports I’d personally guarded. Victor hadn't just built an empire; he’d built a slaughterhouse."Nikolai, look at this," Clara whispered, her voice trembling.She pulled out a dusty blue folder from the back of the safe. Her family name was scrawled across the tab in Victor’s sharp, arrogant handwriting. She opened it, and I watched the color drain from her face until she was as white as the hospital gown she was still wearing under her coat."Ten million," she breathed, her eyes darting across the pages. "It says here the total debt was ten million dollars. Nikolai, he told us

Caught In His Own Trap

POV: VictorThe air in the basement was cool and tasted of expensive dust and old secrets, just the way I liked it. I looked at the two of them standing there, huddled together like a pair of stray dogs in the rain, and I couldn't help it. I laughed. It wasn't even a forced laugh. It was a genuine, deep sound that echoed off the stone walls and the glass bottles of my collection. They looked so small. So utterly convinced that they had actually done something significant."Look at you two," I said, my voice steady and light. "The hero and the damsel. It’s almost poetic. If I weren't so bored by the cliché, I might actually be moved."Nikolai didn't move. He stood there with that stubborn set to his jaw, the one he inherited from me, holding that bag of papers like it was the Holy Grail. He thought he had the world in his hands. He thought those ink stains on paper were going to be my undoing. It was adorable, really."You’re finished, Victor," Nikolai said. His voice was trying to

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