Page 28 of Her Cruel Empire (The Devil’s Plaything #1)

Eva

I watch from my bedroom window as the black car disappears down the winding mountain road, carrying Robin back to her pathetic little American life.

My chest tightens like a vise, but I force myself to remain perfectly still, remind myself that this is no different from any other woman I’ve had in the past.

She was nothing more than a distraction—a sweet little plaything who forgot her place.

I press my palm against the glass, and for one insane moment, I want to chase after that car. Want to drag her back to my castle where she belongs.

Mine. She was mine.

No—that was always a lie. She was a mirage, not salvation. And now it’s back to business.

The next few hours pass in a blur of action. This is what I know how to do—command, organize, control. It’s all I have left.

I organize the cremation, the urn, the plaque.

After that, with nothing else to do, I find myself in the medical wing, staring at the empty bed where my father once lay. The machines are gone, disconnected and wheeled away by the same careful hands that tended him for months. The room feels hollow, sterile. Dead.

I press my palm to the cool mattress and close my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. Papa teaching me to aim a pistol when I was barely tall enough to hold it steady. The way he’d laugh when I beat him at chess, proud of the strategic mind he’d helped shape.

He’ll smile at you again , Robin’s voice echoes in my memory, soft and certain. I know he will .

Lies. All of it. Hope is poison, and I was fool enough to drink it.

I slam my fist against the wall, the impact sending shockwaves up my arm. The pain is grounding, real. Unlike the fairy tale Robin spun with her optimism and her ridiculous faith in happy endings.

My phone buzzes. Leon, checking on funeral arrangements. I text him back curtly, then realize I should see him in person. He took a bullet in Paris—for me—and I’ve barely given him a thought since we returned.

Guilt is an unfamiliar emotion. I don’t like it.

I find Leon in the security room, his massive frame hunched over surveillance monitors. His left shoulder is bandaged, his arm in a sling, but his fingers are still flying over the keyboard. Still protecting me, even when I don’t deserve it.

He looks up when I enter, and I see something flicker in his weathered face—concern, maybe. Or pity. I hate both.

“You look like hell,” he says bluntly. Leon’s never been one for sugar-coating.

“Charming as always.” I move to stand behind him, studying the screens. “How’s the shoulder?”

“I’ve had worse.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “You did the right thing. Sending her away.”

I say nothing, but my hands clench. He’s right. I know he’s right. But knowing doesn’t make the hollow ache in my chest any less devastating.

“She asked me to take care of you,” Leon says suddenly. “Before she left.”

“She what?”

“Asked me to watch out for you.” Leon’s smile is sad. “Smart girl. Stupid, but smart.”

Even after everything I said to her, even after I called her a whore, she was still trying to care for me. For the monster who tried to destroy her.

I close my eyes, and suddenly I can hear her voice as clear as if she were standing beside me, begging me not to shut her out.

But she’s not here. She’s gone. And it’s my fault.

I retreat to my private study and pour myself a glass of the Novak family’s aniseed liqueur. Sweet and rough, it slides down my throat, warming my chest but doing nothing to fill the hollow ache inside.

I pour another.

Then another.

I send for Mrs. Kovacs. “That guest room,” I tell her. “Clear it out.”

“She…left a great deal,” Mrs. Kovacs says.

“Then get rid of it!”

For the first time I’ve known her, Mrs. Kovacs hesitates slightly. “Some of the clothes are very expensive?—”

“Burn them.” The words come out harder than I intended. “Or pass them out in the damn village. I don’t care what you do with them. Just get them out of the castle.”

She nods quickly and hurries away. I pour another drink.

This won’t do. I can’t get drunk; I’ll make stupid decisions. Stupider than I already have…

I set down the glass and go for a walk around my domain.

The Great Room draws me like a wound I can’t stop picking at.

I stand in the doorway, staring at the rug in front of the massive stone fireplace, and I swear I can still smell her in the air.

Still hear the echo of her laughter bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.

She was mine. Every breath she took, every tremor of pleasure, every soft moan in the darkness—they were mine .

But I threw her away like she was nothing. Like she meant nothing.

The thought sends a fresh wave of rage through me, but I can’t tell if I’m angry at her or at myself. She was just another acquisition, I tell myself. A foolish little girl with big blue eyes, led by her silly heart, a beauty who thought she could save the beast.

But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie.

I’m still standing there when I hear footsteps in the hall. Uncle Stefan appears in the doorway, his silver-threaded hair gleaming, his face creased with concern.

“You look like Zoltan did after your mother died,” he says gently, and the observation cuts deep.

I straighten my spine, snapping out of my haze. This is not who I am. I am not some lovesick fool mourning a girl who meant nothing.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, but my voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.

Stefan studies me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. “The shooting in Paris—how is Leon?”

Another stab of guilt. “Recovering. He’ll be fine. And I will find the shooter and make them suffer.”

“Good. And…the girl?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Gone. Back to America where she belongs. I don’t have time for distractions right now.”

Stefan’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Is that…all she was?”

“Of course,” I continue, hating how defensive I sound.

“Of course.” His tone is carefully neutral. And then he breaks into a sad smile as he shakes his head admiringly. “Zoltan would be so proud of you, Eva. You’re no wildcat. You are every inch the Beast of the Blacklake that he was.”

The praise should feel good.

So why doesn’t it?

Stefan moves closer, his expression growing serious. “And now you know what you must do. It’s time to prioritize avenging him.”

“Yes.” I lift my chin. “I will make the world tremble once more at the might of Novak vengeance.”

“That’s my girl.” Stefan nods approvingly.

“I’m grateful for your support, Uncle. And for your love of family.”

“Family is the most important thing,” he says gruffly, pulling me into a brief embrace. “It’s all we have in this world.”

We hug, and for a moment I feel almost steady. Almost whole. Stefan is staying for the night, but leaves me to make some business calls. “We’ll dine together,” he promises.

And then I’m alone again with my thoughts.

I pace the Great Room, trying to focus on plans for revenge. Someone killed my father. Someone will pay. This is what matters now—not some naive girl with strawberry blonde hair and impossible dreams.

But my mind keeps drifting. Robin, stepping off that plane in Vegas. Robin, walking back into her small apartment with her sick sister and her mounting bills. Robin, with no protection, no security, and potentially a target on her back.

I stop pacing.

In Paris, we were seen together everywhere. At the hotel, in restaurants, walking through the streets. Anyone watching would have drawn the obvious conclusion—that Eva Novak had found herself another pretty little pet.

But what if someone got the wrong idea? What if someone thought Robin actually meant something to me?

She doesn’t, of course. But she’s soft. Foolish. All that hope and determination that made her so infuriating also makes her incredibly easy to manipulate.

To hurt.

And I sent her away without protection. Without even a warning…