Page 13 of Devil’s Embrace (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #10)

Emory

I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, my thoughts racing between escape plans and the confusing pull I felt toward Luca.

Sleep wouldn't come, not with the memory of his touch still burning on my skin where his thumb had traced circles on my back.

I needed to take control of this situation before I lost myself completely.

With newfound determination, I slipped from the bed.

If Luca wanted to play mind games, I could play too.

I knew his weakness now—his past, his humanity, his strange connection to Mina. And I intended to use it all.

The mansion was quieter now, the security scare from earlier apparently resolved.

I listened at my door, hearing no footsteps or voices in the hallway.

I tried the handle, expecting it to be locked, but to my surprise, it turned easily in my grip.

Had someone stopped by and unlocked it at some point?

I remembered hearing him lock me in earlier.

I padded silently down the hallway, my bare feet making no sound on the plush carpet.

The path to Luca's study was etched in my memory now, each turn and corridor mapped in my mind from my earlier exploration.

A sliver of light beneath his door told me he was still awake, still working, despite the late hour.

My hand hovered over the doorknob, doubt momentarily freezing me in place.

Was I really going to do this? Use what I knew to manipulate a dangerous man?

But then I thought of Mina, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the precarious nature of our safety.

For her, I would do anything. Even dance with the devil.

I knocked once, softly, then opened the door without waiting for permission.

Luca sat behind his desk, papers spread before him, a glass of whiskey at his elbow.

He looked up at my entrance, his eyes showing only mild surprise, as if he'd been expecting me.

The dim light from his desk lamp cast shadows across his face, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and the slight furrow between his brows.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked.

I stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. "You left my door unlocked."

"Did I?" A ghost of a smile touched his lips, confirming what I'd suspected. A test, then.

"That fire that killed your parents." I watched his face carefully. "Did you see it happen?"

His hand stilled over the document he'd been reviewing. The muscles in his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but I caught the reaction. Good. I needed to keep him off-balance.

"No. I was staying with a family friend that night. Mateo made sure of that."

I moved closer to his desk, trailing my fingers along its polished edge. "Convenient timing."

His eyes tracked my movement, narrowing slightly. "What do you want, Emory?"

"The same thing you do." I maintained eye contact, willing my heart to slow its frantic beating. "Control."

A flicker of interest crossed his face. I'd caught his attention. I took another step closer, letting my hip rest against the edge of his desk.

"You need allies." I continued to observe him. "People who understand what Mateo is. What he's capable of… What he did to you."

Luca's shoulders tensed beneath his shirt. He set down his pen with careful precision. "And you think you're that ally? Some secretary with no ties to my world?"

"I think we could help each other." I let my voice soften, let a hint of my Southern accent slip through—not the hard edges that came with anger, but the gentle lilt I’d been told was rather charming.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with those unreadable eyes. "And what exactly do you think you have to offer me?"

The question hung in the air between us. I took a calculated risk, moving around the desk until I stood closer to him, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne mingled with whiskey.

"I've seen how you look at Mina. How you treat her. The care you take with her. That's not the behavior of the man they call The Devil."

His expression hardened. "Don't presume to know me because of a few kind gestures toward a child."

"I don't presume." I held his gaze. "I observe. You have more humanity than you want to admit, Luca. More than Mateo thinks he left you with."

He went completely still at that, his breathing barely perceptible. I'd hit a nerve.

"You protected us from him," I continued. "Kept us secret. Why do that if you're truly what everyone believes you to be?"

Luca rose from his chair in one fluid motion, his height suddenly intimidating as he stood over me. But instead of backing away, he circled the desk slowly, like a predator sizing up prey. I forced myself to stand my ground as he approached, though every instinct screamed at me to retreat.

"Perhaps I just haven't decided what to do with you yet," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.

"I don't believe that." I tilted my head up to maintain eye contact as he stopped directly in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

He reached out, not touching me but bringing his hand close enough to my face that I could feel the air disturbed by his movement. "You're playing a dangerous game, Emory Scott."

"So are you." I refused to be intimidated despite the hammering of my heart. "Keeping us here, right under Mateo's nose. What happens when he finds out?"

"He won't." The certainty in Luca's voice was absolute.

"Unless someone tells him." I let the implication hang in the air between us.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I glimpsed the killer from the alley. "Is that a threat?"

"An observation." I swallowed hard but didn't look away. "You need me on your side, Luca. Just as much as I need you."

He moved closer still, using his height to loom over me. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, could see the faint scar near his temple that hadn't been visible from a distance. His proximity was overwhelming, but I refused to step back. This was a test of wills, and I couldn't afford to lose.

"And what side would that be, exactly?”

I squared my shoulders, looking up into his eyes with all the courage I could muster. "The side that keeps Mina safe. The side that gives us both what we want."

His gaze locked with mine, searching for weakness, for deception. I let him look, kept my expression open but determined. Whatever happened next would set the course for everything that followed. I'd laid my cards on the table. Now it was his move.

Luca's hand finally made contact with my face, his fingers tracing my jawline in a gesture that could have been a caress or a threat.

I should have pulled away. Should have slapped his hand aside and maintained the distance between captor and captive.

Instead, I made a decision that would change everything—I leaned into his touch, just slightly, just enough to see his pupils dilate in response.

"What game are you playing, Emory?" His voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper, his thumb now brushing across my lower lip.

"The same one you are." My words vibrated against his thumb. "Just with different stakes."

His eyes darkened as he studied my face, looking for deception, for weakness. I gave him neither, meeting his gaze with a steadiness I didn't entirely feel. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I refused to let him see how his proximity affected me.

"And what would those stakes be?" He slid his fingers from my face to curl loosely around my throat—not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder of his power.

I swallowed against his palm, feeling the slight pressure increase with the movement. "Freedom has different definitions. Different... values."

His eyebrow raised slightly. "Are you attempting to negotiate, or offering something else entirely?"

"Maybe both." The words came out huskier than I'd intended, betraying the unwelcome heat building low in my belly. This was supposed to be calculated, a means to an end. When had my body started responding to him against my will?

His other hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with unexpected gentleness. "You have no idea what you're playing with."

"Don't I?" I took a half-step closer, eliminating what little space remained between us. "I think I understand exactly what I'm doing. The question is, do you?"

Something shifted in his expression—a crack in the careful control, a flash of something raw and hungry.

Without warning, he moved forward, backing me against the bookshelf a few feet away.

My spine pressed against the hard edges of leather-bound volumes, and his body pressed against mine, solid and unyielding.

The shelf rocked with the impact, several books tumbling to the floor with heavy thuds.

"You think you can manipulate me?" His hands bracketed my face now, holding me still as his face hovered inches from mine. "You think because I've shown mercy to your daughter, I've somehow gone soft?"

"I think there's more humanity in you than you want to admit. And I think you want something from me that has nothing to do with the fact that we witnessed your kill."

His grip tightened, not painfully but possessively. "Careful, Emory. You're making assumptions that could get you hurt."

"Am I?" I deliberately rolled my hips against his, feeling the hard evidence of his desire. A calculated move that backfired instantly as heat flooded my body in response. "Seems like I'm making the right assumptions."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, his control visibly fraying. "This won't change anything. This won't buy your freedom."

"I don't expect it to." The honesty in my words surprised even me. "But it might change the terms of our captivity."