Page 23 of Her Cruel Empire (The Devil’s Plaything #1)

Robin

W armth. That’s the first thing I register as consciousness creeps in—not the usual warmth of a blanket, but a solid, human warmth pressed against my back.

Then I feel it—the weight of an arm draped possessively across my waist, the gentle rise and fall of breathing that isn’t my own.

I turn my head slowly, hardly daring to breathe.

Eva.

She’s still asleep, her face softer than I’ve ever seen it.

Those sharp cheekbones that could cut glass look so delicate in the morning light.

Her clouds of black hair spill across the pillow like dark water, and her usually perfect composure is nowhere to be found.

She looks…real. Like a person instead of an untouchable queen who bought me at auction.

I lie perfectly still, afraid that the slightest movement will shatter this moment. Eva sleeps like she does everything else—with complete confidence, one arm flung across me as if she owns me. Which, I suppose, she does. But right now, in this quiet morning light, it doesn’t feel like ownership.

It feels like happiness.

She stirs against me and I hold my breath. Any second now she’ll wake up and remember who she is, what this is. She’ll pull away with that cool air and pretend this intimacy never happened.

But instead, Eva stretches out, her body arching against mine. Her amber eyes open slowly, lazily, and when they focus on my face, she doesn’t immediately recoil. Instead, a faint smirk tugs at her lips.

“Good morning,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. “Aren’t you late for your...empire?”

Eva’s smirk deepens as she catches sight of the digital clock over my shoulder. “Mm. I should be heading to a meeting right now,” she murmurs, her accent thicker with sleep. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my bare shoulder, and I shiver.

I try to tease my way past the nervous energy crackling between us. “And yet you’re still here.”

“Perhaps I’ll play hooky.” Her smile becomes something true, something that transforms her entire face. “You’re far more interesting than contract negotiations.”

Suddenly, she rises, the sheet sliding down her bare back, and announces, “Yes, I’ve decided. We’re going out for the day.”

My stomach flips. Eva Novak, terror of the criminal underworld, is choosing me over work. Over the empire that consumes her every waking moment.

“Where?” I ask. Eva doesn’t do spontaneous. Everything in her life is strategic. I haven’t known her long, but I already know that about her.

“You’ll see.” She’s already moving toward the bathroom. But something’s different. There’s an almost playful energy about her that makes my pulse quicken.

She’s really skipping work.

For me.

The car ride through Paris is still magical. I press my face to the window like a child, watching the city unfold around us—narrow cobblestone streets, sidewalk cafes with their cheerful striped awnings, elegant Parisians walking tiny dogs. Everything looks like it belongs in a movie.

Eva sits beside me in silence, but I can feel her watching. When I glance over, she’s studying my face with that unreadable expression she gets sometimes, like she’s solving a puzzle.

Leon and the other bodyguards are with us, their presence a reminder that even in this fairy tale moment, Eva’s world is dangerous. But right now, I don’t care. I’m in Paris with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and she chose to be here with me instead of conquering the world.

She can do that tomorrow instead. The thought makes me grin even harder. But when the car stops, I gasp.

The Eiffel Tower rises before us like something out of a dream, its iron lattice gleaming. Tourists swarm around its base, snapping photos and chattering in a dozen languages.

“We’re going up?” I breathe. “What’s it like?”

Eva gives a little shrug. “I’ve never been. Too touristy.”

“You’ve never been?” I repeat, shocked. “You’ve never…” I trail off.

“What?” she asks, curious.

“You’ve never taken a—a companion up there?”

She studies me for a moment. “Paris was only ever a place I visited with my father.” Before I can stammer out an apology, she smiles.

“And besides, I’ve never taken a companion with me on a business trip before.

Which this is supposed to be. But I’ve never blown off a meeting before, either.

So I suppose there’s a first time for everything.

” She leans forward to Leon in the front and says something in their native language.

He responds in a low, disapproving tone, but Eva waves him off with an imperious gesture.

“Stay down here,” she says stubbornly, and in English. “Let us have some time alone.”

Leon’s jaw tightens, but he nods. Eva takes my hand and leads me toward the entrance, past the long queue of tourists. A few words in French, and we’re whisked to the front of the line.

Of course Eva gets VIP treatment. She gets everything.

And while I’m with her, so do I.

The short elevator ride up to the second floor—which Eva assures me is supposed to have the best views—is a blur of nervous chatter on my part about heights and enclosed spaces, but Eva barely seems to notice the city falling away beneath us.

Instead, she watches me with that same intense focus, like I’m the most fascinating thing in her world.

When the elevator doors open onto the viewing deck, I rush to the railing and press my hands against the metal barrier.

Paris spreads out before us like a living map—tiny cars threading through streets, the Seine winding through the city like a glittering path, people reduced to dots of color moving through their lives.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, then louder, “Eva, look at this! Look how beautiful it is!”

I find myself pointing out landmarks I recognize from movies and guidebooks—the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, the boulevards lined with trees. Everything looks so perfect from up here, so orderly and peaceful.

When I turn to share my excitement, Eva is standing a step back, watching me instead of the view. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s something soft in her eyes that makes my breath catch.

Eventually we get to the summit, which is even more breathtaking as I see the size of the city spreading out around us.

“You should take a picture,” I say, gesturing at her phone. “When will you ever be up here again?”

With a shrug, she opens the photo app for me and leans against the railing with her usual inscrutable expression. “Smile!” I demand.

Eva raises an eyebrow. “I don’t smile for cameras.”

“Humor me.” I snap the photo anyway, catching her with a faint smile playing on her lips. She looks happy. Actually happy, not just satisfied or amused. “Perfect.”

I turn back to the railing, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. “I wish the kids could be here,” I say without thinking.

“‘The kids’?” Eva prompts.

“Oh—my siblings. My family. They would love it all so much.” I shake my head with a smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring them up.”

She regards me with a curious expression. “You must have thought about them often, during your time away.”

I give a huff of laughter. “That’s an understatement. If anything, I try not to think about them. It makes me way too worried and homesick.”

She’s silent for another moment, and then she nods at her phone, still in my hand. “Call them.” I stare at her, barely daring to believe I heard her right. She nods. “Call them. See how they are, so you can enjoy Paris without fear.”

I don’t wait another second, even as I half expect her to snatch the phone back from me.

I memorized all their numbers after Maisie’s first trip to the ER, so if Adrian doesn’t answer, I can call one of the others, but he picks up after what feels like forever.

“Robin?” Adrian’s voice crackles through the line, bleary and confused.

“It’s, like, four a.m. here. Is everything okay? ”

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” I say quickly, grinning even as my heart lurches just hearing his voice. “I didn’t think. I just—I had a minute and I needed to hear you. How is everyone? How are you?”

There’s the faintest pause that I assume is a slight lag from Paris to Las Vegas. “We’re fine,” he says. “Everything’s just the same.”

I close my eyes briefly, relief flooding through me. “Thank God. And Maisie? How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. She’s fine. We’re all fine. Just missing you.”

“Oh.” I let out a breath. “Me too, Adrian. Me too .”

He sounds slightly more awake as he asks, “How’s the TV show? Are you winning?”

I force a laugh. “I’m slaying, obviously.”

He chuckles, and it feels so good to hear it, even if I feel guilty about lying. “Of course you are.”

“Look, I should probably go,” I say, wanting to avoid any further questions. “Give everyone a hug from me, okay? Tell them I love them.”

“Will do,” Adrian says, soft now. “Love you too, Big Sis.”

I hang up, the screen fading to black in my hand, and hand it back to Eva. “Thank you,” I tell her, wiping away a few happy-sad tears. “That was really kind of you.”

“Please don’t go spreading that around,” she says ironically. She’s been observing me through the whole conversation, watching my face.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend to be untouchable up here,” I tell her with a smile. “It’s just me.”

Eva’s expression flickers, something vulnerable crossing her face before she locks it down again. “That’s the problem,” she says quietly.

What does that mean?

Before I can ask, she’s raised her phone again and snaps an impromptu photo of me.

“Hey!” I laugh. But she’s already moving away to the elevator, signaling that our time here is over.

As we descend, I steal glances at her profile, trying to decode the tension in her shoulders, the way she won’t quite meet my eyes.

It’s hopeless. Eva Novak is still a complete mystery to me.