Page 95 of Evil Hearts
Chapter One
A melia Lancaster emerged from her sleek black car, locked the doors, and made her way up the steep driveway of Shadowfield Manor. Her stilettos clicked against the uneven pavement as her gaze took in the Gothic mansion looming over the estate, an architectural marvel.
Lifting the hem of her dress with one hand, she strolled toward the grandiose entrance, the sounds of conversation, laughter, and music carried on the autumn breeze.
She smoothed a trembling hand over her midnight blue gown, the heavy fabric clinging to her slender frame. Auburn curls tumbled from her intricate chignon, surrounding her dainty features and porcelain skin. A delicate mask of silver filigree framed her bright green eyes.
Ameila paused at the huge double doors. “Maybe tonight I’ll be able to finally break free from all this…honor and duty.”
Stepping into the grand foyer, Amelia felt instantly overwhelmed by the opulence and mystique. The ballroom had been transformed for the Halloween masquerade.
“This is incredible,” she whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the transformation of the ballroom.
Cobwebs floated from the crystal chandeliers, bats dangled from the ceilings, and glinting candelabras pitched quivering shadows onto the walls. The guests’ faces were hidden behind elaborate masks embellished with skulls, pumpkins, and other Halloween-themed symbols.
While she moved through the room, Amelia suddenly felt the burden of her family’s expectations bearing down on her. She hated attending these affairs just to please her family. And the heavy gown seemed to symbolize the traditional values her parents forced upon her. Their request for her to conform to society made her hands clench.
She sighed. At least the delicate mask she wore helped give her a touch of anonymity and freedom. Tonight was a chance to break free from the shackles of her privileged upbringing. Possibly meet someone new—
“Amelia, dearest!” called a high-pitched female voice, pulling her from her reverie. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”
Amelia nodded, forcing a smile as she engaged in the customary pleasantries. “Thank you, Mrs. Winters. Your dress is exquisite.”
Amelia glided past masked faces, exchanging banal conversations with friends and acquaintances. But her heart ached for something more, for a genuine relationship that would shatter the facade of her gilded cage.
“May I have this dance?” asked a short, balding man, his gloved hand extended toward her.
“Of course.” Amelia placed her hand in his.
Even as they moved gracefully across the marble floor, her thoughts remained elsewhere. The man’s touch was polite but uninspired, and their conversation hardly penetrated the surface of small talk. When the music flowed around them, Amelia found herself glancing toward the French doors that led to the garden. The lure of fresh air and solitude became impossible to ignore.
“Thank you for the dance,” she said, when the song ended.
Without waiting for a reply, she slipped through the crowd and made her way to the French doors. With one last glance over her shoulder at the opulent ballroom, she stepped outside.
The night air was crisp and cool against her skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling balminess inside. Above, the sky stretched out in a canopy of glittering stars, an ethereal backdrop that seemed worlds away from the artificiality of the Halloween ball. A gentle gust shook the leaves of the trees surrounding Shadowfield Manor.
Amelia wandered the winding garden paths, her heels clicking on the stone. Click, click, click. Marble statues watched her, their gazes cold and regal among the blood-red roses. She paused at a moonlit pond, its glassy surface a mirror.
“Isn’t it lovely how the night can feel so alive?”
“Most definitely.” A deep voice emerged from the shadows.
Amelia startled. A man stepped out of the darkness. He was tall, devastatingly handsome, with dark hair slicked back. His eyes, a beautiful blue-black in the shafts of dim light, mesmerized her. He wore a suit of timeless elegance, every detail perfect.
“Forgive the intrusion,” he said, moving closer. “I’m Dimitri Volkov, the owner of Shadowfield Manor.”
“Amelia Lancaster.” She smiled shyly. “Your gardens are lovely.”
His lips quirked. “Well, it is my home and I do admire beauty.” He cocked his head. “And what brings you to my Halloween ball tonight, Miss Lancaster?”
“An escape, perhaps.” Her expression caught, vulnerable. “A chance to find something real amidst the pretense.”
Her neck grew warm. Amelia’s confession glided on the air like a fragile admission of her deepest desires. She had spent too many nights confined within the expectations of high society, where every interaction felt like a performance and every smile a mask.
Dimitri nodded, his expression softening. “Ah, authenticity. A rare and precious thing in our world.”
“Do you believe in fate, Mr. Volkov?”
He rubbed his chin, pensive. “Fate has a way of guiding us, whether we realize it or not.”
Fate. The word lingered in Amelia’s thoughts like an old melody she couldn’t quite place. Was it fate that had led her to this enigmatic man? Or was it merely her restless heart seeking solace in the unknown?
She had constantly been told that fate was a grand design beyond human comprehension—a mysterious force that wove destinies together with invisible threads. Standing here with Dimitri, she wondered if fate was simply a series of choices leading her to this very moment.
Amelia’s pulse quickened. “Do you think it guided us here tonight?”
“Possibly.” A casual shrug. “Or perhaps a fortunate coincidence.”
Coincidence or destiny—did it matter? The intensity of his gaze made her question everything she thought she knew about herself and her aspirations. In Dimitri’s presence, the lines between reality, duty, and fantasy blurred, leaving her breathless with lustful wanting and powerful cravings.
Her cheeks warmed. “Either way, I’m glad for it.”
“As am I, Miss Lancaster.” His accent was low, captivating. “May I have the honor of showing you my gardens’ beauty?”
“I’d love that. Thank you.” Her heart fluttered in her chest.
They walked in sync in the garden and an astonishing sense of belonging swept over Amelia.
The night air was cool against her skin, yet there was a heat emanating from Dimitri that drew her closer despite herself. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His profile was both hauntingly beautiful and achingly sad—as if he were a man burdened by secrets as dark as the shadows around them.
For the first time that night, Amelia allowed herself to hope she had found what she had been searching for all along: something real amidst the pretense.
Dimitri gestured to the mansion with a sweep of his hand as they stepped onto the patio etched by moonlight. “Did you know that Shadowfield is full of stories? Each room holds a tale of the past. It’s been in my family for generations.”
Amelia’s gaze followed Dimitri when he moved. She observed the ease with which his presence commanded the space around him, an island of calm amid the sea of opulence and extravagance. He turned and caught her eye, a coy smile curved his lips, and in that moment, she felt a surge of lust and desire flow through her.
He took her into his arms, and they began to sway in a slow waltz to the music inside.
“Tell me one,” Amelia said.
“Once, this was a place of secret gatherings, where forbidden knowledge was shared under cover of night.” His intonation was a soft murmur that tickled her ear.
“Secrets?” Her eyes widened, imagination alight. “Like hidden passageways or ghostly apparitions?”
“Possibly both,” Dimitri teased, his gaze holding hers captive. “But some secrets are closer to the heart, waiting for the right moment—or person—to be revealed.”
Her laughter was a light and airy sound. “You make it sound so romantic.”
Amelia and Dimitri danced, their bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. His hand rested on the small of her back, guiding her with a touch that was both tender and electrifying. She allowed herself to be led, savoring the thrill that zipped through her veins at his proximity.
Amelia tilted her head back, drinking in the star-studded sky. “I’ve never seen the stars shine so bright before,” she whispered, a little breathless. “Like a million diamonds against the darkest blue.”
Dimitri’s gaze followed hers upward before settling back on her face with a force that made her quiver. “They’re no match for you,” he purred, his accent slight. “You outshine them all, Amelia.”
Heat flooded her cheeks at the compliment, even as a small voice whispered a warning. Could she trust his flattery, or would he prove as false as the other men who had courted her? She pushed the thought away, losing herself in the dance, in the solid warmth of his body against hers. Tonight, she wanted to believe in the fairy tale.
“I’m finding it quite difficult to share you,” Dimitri admitted as they swayed to the music. A wry smile jerked at his lips. “Perhaps we could stay here a while longer? Keep the rest of the world at bay?”
Amelia met his stare, saw the glimmer of vulnerability there beneath the charm. “Why, Mr. Volkov,” she teased, “are you suggesting we hide away from all the other guests? How scandalous.”
“Ah, but you forget.” He spun her out and back into his arms in a move that left her breathless. “I’m a scoundrel, Miss Lancaster. Scandalous is my specialty.”
Amelia’s breath caught in her throat as Dimitri pulled her closer, the heat of his body radiating through the thin layers of her gown. His cologne, resonant and intoxicating, enveloped her senses, stirring a primal hunger within. She fought the urge to surrender completely, to lose herself in the passion of his smoldering gaze.
“You’re a flirt, Mr. Volkov,” she said, her proclaim betraying the slightest tremor. “But I seem to find it intriguing.”
Dimitri’s lips curved into an unfathomable smile, his expression smoldering. “Ah, but the greatest mysteries are those that unfold slowly, layer by delicious layer.” His fingers trailed along the bare skin of her back, igniting a trail of delicious fire.
Amelia’s skin heated, her knees threatening to buckle beneath his seductive touch. She clung to him, desperate to maintain her composure, even as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. This man, this beautiful, dangerous man, held a power over her that defied all reason.
“Then I’ll try to be a patient student…if you’ll be my teacher.”
Dimitri’s chuckle was a low, rumbling sound that reverberated through her very core. “A most tempting proposition.” His fingers traced the curve of her jaw, his thumb grazing her parted lips. “But be warned—some lessons are not easily unlearned.”
She laughed, the sound bright and carefree in the night air. She felt free. For tonight, she would dance with this beautiful, mysterious man beneath a canopy of stars.
Then the garden’s tranquility shattered. Henry, the distinguished butler, approached with a brisk gait that wrinkled his immaculately pressed suit. The light shone on his salt-and-pepper hair, giving him an ethereal halo. His hazel eyes held a hint of urgency as he neared.
“Excuse me, Master Dimitri,” Henry said, his tone a blend of deference and insistence. “The ball is still ongoing, and propriety dictates your presence inside…before sunrise.”
Amelia felt a pang of disappointment. She took in Henry’s stern expression, softened by concern, and knew that this was more than just a call to social etiquette.
“Of course, Henry. Thank you,” Dimitri replied, his tone polite yet laced with reluctance.
Dimitri led her back toward the mansion, and she glanced over her shoulder at the secluded spot where they had danced, where she had felt something awaken within her—a wild, untamed yearning.
Once inside, the noise of the ballroom was jarring. Amelia felt the loss of Dimitri’s nearness even before he excused himself with a courteous nod and disappeared into the crowd.
“Miss Lancaster? Are you all right?” Henry said, his gaze scrutinizing.
“Yes. Thank you, Henry,” she said with a faint smile, her thoughts still chasing the enigma that was Dimitri Volkov. Her heart hammered with the promise of seeing him again, the desire for more than just a waltz under in a secluded garden.
She felt a newfound rebellion rise within her, as she watched the door swing shut through which Dimitri had vanished, wondering when their paths might cross again.