Page 4 of Her Cruel Empire (The Devil’s Plaything #1)

Robin

T he heat from that woman’s touch still burns across my fingers as I watch her leave the bar, my cheeks blazing like I’ve been standing too close to an open flame.

I can’t seem to catch my breath. She looked at me like I was something to devour .

Like I was a candy she wanted to unwrap slowly and—and suck on…

And she was gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in real life, with that silky black hair and eyes that seemed almost golden.

“Jesus, Shirley.” Logan’s voice cuts through my daze. “You look like you just got hit by lightning. What the hell was going on with that woman?”

“Nothing.” But my voice gives me away, coming out breathier than I intend. “I just served her a drink.”

Logan snorts. He can read me like an open book. “Uh-huh. And did this ‘nothing’ involve you flirting with God herself?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Right. And I’m straight.” He leans against the bar, studying my face with sharp eyes that see everything. “Spill. Who was she?”

I busy myself arranging bottles that don’t need arranging. The memory of her amber eyes, the way her mouth curved when she smiled, the accent that made her sound so classy —it all crashes over me in waves.

“I don’t know. I have no idea. Some businesswoman, maybe?

” I chance another look at the empty booth, disappointed all over again.

“She had this accent. European, maybe? And she was…” Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it.

Devastating. Magnetic. The kind of woman who could make you forget your own name.

“And she was what?”

“Way out of my league.” Women like her don’t look twice at girls like me. She was probably just amusing herself, playing with the poor little bartender before moving on to bigger, better things.

But she touched my hand. She smiled like she already owned me.

Logan’s expression softens. “Robin?—”

“Forget it.” I force a laugh, but it sounds hollow even to my ears. “She’s gone anyway. She realized she didn’t belong in a dump like this and she made tracks.” Just like I wish I could.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of mixing drinks and forcing smiles. But even as I serve beer after beer, part of me keeps replaying those few minutes. The way looked at me. The heat in her gaze. The way my body responded to her proximity like I was iron and she was a magnet.

And the two hundred she dropped for no reason at all other than liking my smile. That two hundred will help cover the next medical debt payment, which means I only have to worry about rent. I’ve got a bit of breathing space. That’s the amazing thing about tonight.

Not the golden-eyed woman.

By the time last call rolls around, my tips jar is fuller than usual, but my mind is still spinning.

Logan and I work in companionable silence as we clean up, the bar slowly emptying until it’s just us and a few stragglers nursing their last drinks, including the slightly creepy guy that Logan pointed out to me as a “new face” when I came in.

He’s been more respectful than a lot of the regulars, but there’s something definitely off about him.

Logan already said he’d walk me out to the car when we’re done.

“So,” Logan says, wiping down the bar top. “Want to talk about what’s really eating you?”

I pause in my glass-stacking. Logan’s one of the few people who knows about my family situation—about the bills piling up, about Maisie’s medical needs, about how I lie awake at night adding and subtracting numbers that never balance.

“I mean, it’s just the usual.” I lean against the bar, suddenly exhausted.

“Maisie needs a new prescription and I’m about to lose my family insurance.

Alicia’s teacher says she needs a tutor, which we definitely can’t afford.

And our landlord sent another notice about a rent increase next month, and that’s on top of the three weeks I’m behind. ”

Logan’s face crumples with sympathy. “Jesus, Robin. I wish I could help more. I’ve got maybe a hundred I could loan you, but?—”

“No.” I shake my head quickly. “You’ve already done too much. I’ll figure something out.”

But that’s the problem. I’ve been trying to figure something out for months, and I’m running out of options.

The loan applications were all rejections.

This second job barely covers groceries and leaves me exhausted.

And every time I think we’re finally getting ahead, something else breaks or someone gets sick or the universe finds another way to kick us back down into the gutter.

The creepy New Face guy slides up to the bar. “One more whiskey,” he cajoles, settling onto a barstool like he owns the place. “For the road?” He holds up a fifty. “You can keep the change.”

I glance at Logan, who pauses, but then gives a nod. He knows how much I need the money, and I’m grateful to him.

I pour out the drink, trying not to notice how the man’s eyes linger on my cleavage. Men like him come in here all the time—guys who think their money gives them license to undress me with their eyes. But I’m hardly going to complain, not when I need every red cent I can get.

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he says as I slide the glasses across the bar. Logan has gone into the back room to unload the dishwasher. “Sounds like you could use a miracle, sweetheart.”

Every instinct I have screams danger, but I keep my expression neutral. “Just down on my luck this month. Nothing I can’t handle.”

His laugh is oily. “Everyone’s got bills, sweetheart.

But not everyone’s willing to do what it takes to pay them.

” He leans closer, and I catch a whiff of too-much cologne mixed with something that makes my skin crawl.

“You know, I work for a very exclusive private club. Very discreet. Very well-compensated. It’s Shirley, right?

Shirley, this could be your lucky night. ”

I almost laugh. Logan might call me Shirley Temple, but even I’m not naive enough to misunderstand what this asshole’s talking about. “I’m not interested.”

“Hear me out.” He slides a business card across the bar—cream-colored, heavy stock, with nothing but a phone number embossed in gold.

“We cater to a very specific clientele. Wealthy. Refined. Lonely. They’re looking for companionship, nothing more.

Someone to accompany them to dinner, maybe a weekend getaway. Keep them company.”

The euphemisms make my stomach turn. “I told you, I’m not?—”

“A hundred grand,” he says quietly. “For thirty days. Think about it—thirty days of partying with someone who knows how to treat a lady right, and you walk away with enough money to solve all your problems.”

My mouth goes dry. One hundred thousand dollars? That could pay off our debts, get us insurance to at least partially cover the operation that Maisie needs.

It could change everything.

But I know what he’s really asking for. What he’s really selling.

“I’m not the partying type,” I tell him.

Jim’s smile never wavers. “Everyone’s the partying type for the right price, sweetheart. Think about your family. Think about what that kind of money could do.”

Before I can respond, Logan appears like an avenging angel. His face is set in hard lines as he snatches the card from the bar and glares at Jim.

“She said no. And it’s time for you to leave.”

Jim holds up his hands in mock surrender, but there’s something unpleasant glittering in his eyes. “Just offering a business opportunity. No need to get hostile.”

“The lady’s not interested in your kind of business,” Logan says flatly. “Door’s that way.”

Jim picks up his glass, drains it, and sets it back down with a grin.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Logan turns on me.

“That guy’s a Gatto. As in organized crime.

Anything he offers you? Not worth the price.

” He rips the business card in half and dumps it in the trash can we keep under the bar.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. ”

“Of course not,” I say quickly, but my eyes stray down to the torn pieces of cardstock. “I would never—well, you know.”

“Good.” Logan’s shoulders relax slightly. “Because girls who get involved with the Gattos have a tendency to end up missing.”

We finish closing up in silence, but my mind is churning. One hundred thousand dollars. The number keeps echoing in my head like a drumbeat. Enough money to save us all.

But at what cost?

The drive home takes me through the worst part of town, where streetlights flicker and broken glass sparkles on the sidewalks. Our apartment building skulks ahead, complete with cracked concrete and peeling paint. Home sweet home.

I climb the stairs to our unit, my feet heavy with exhaustion. I can hear a baby crying through the thin walls again.

I slide my key into the lock as quietly as possible, hoping everyone’s asleep. But Adrian meets me at the door, and one look at his face tells me everything I need to know.

“What happened?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

“Pipe burst in the bathroom. Flooded everything. I had to call the emergency plumber.”

My heart sinks. “How much?”

“Four hundred.” He won’t meet my eyes. “I had to put it on the credit card. The landlord said he wouldn’t pay until we caught up on the rent.”

Four hundred dollars. Four hundred dollars we don’t have, charged to a credit card that’s already maxed out. Four hundred dollars that was supposed to be our grocery money, our gas money, our maybe-we-can-catch-up-on-the-electric-bill money.

The walls feel like they’re closing in. The weight of my siblings’ expectations, their trust, their need—it’s crushing me. I’m drowning, and I’m taking them all down with me.

“Robin?” Adrian’s voice seems to come from very far away. “You okay?”

I shake myself back to the present, forcing a bright smile onto my face. “Of course. Just tired.”

“I’m so sorry about the plumber, I just?—”

“It’s fine,” I say firmly. “You did what you had to do.”

And as I lie awake staring at the ceiling, I realize what I have to do. I just have to find the most convincing lie that will keep my family in the dark while I do it.

By morning, I’ve come up with a foolproof plan.

I come out humming and smiling, and call everyone over to the table. “Family meeting,” I announce. I look around at their worried faces, and grin. “No need to look like that, everyone. Something amazing happened last night.”

They all perk up slightly, hope flickering in their eyes.

“I got offered a spot on a reality TV show.” The lie flows out of me, smooth and natural. “It’s the pilot for a new show. Like Survivor, but for people who’ve been through hard times. The producers think I’d be perfect.”

Maisie sits up, her blue eyes bright with excitement. “Really? Like on actual TV?”

“Really. The only thing is, they want to film for thirty days. So I’d have to go away. But the grand prize winner gets a hundred grand.”

Dane’s jaw drops. “A hundred grand? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” I look around at all of them, seeing their excitement build. “But like I said, I’d have to be gone for a month.”

Adrian frowns. “A whole month? Robin, I don’t know if?—”

“You can handle it,” I say firmly. “You’re eighteen now. And it’s only thirty days.”

“We’d miss you,” Alicia says quietly.

My heart clenches. “I’d miss you too. But we need this break. It’ll help us get back on our feet.”

“You think you can win?” Maisie asks softly.

“Heck yeah, I do. I’ll beat the competition into submission.” I keep smiling. “What do you think?”

They all start talking at once, excitement bubbling over. Alicia is still hesitant, but she can’t argue with the money. Dane’s already planning how he’ll help take care of everyone while I’m gone. Maisie’s asking if she can watch the show when it airs.

Only Adrian stays quiet, studying my face with eyes that are too wise for eighteen. “You sure about this, Robin?”

I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m very sure.”

It’s not until I lock myself in the tiny bathroom that I allow myself to fall apart. I stare at my reflection in the cracked mirror. One hundred thousand dollars , I mouth at myself.

I pull the torn pieces of the business card from my pocket, where I put them after rescuing them when Logan wasn’t looking.

Thirty days of “companionship.” Thirty days of being some rich man’s toy. Because let’s face it, it’ll be a man.

I haven’t been with a man for a very long time. Can I really pretend for thirty days?

Thirty days of pretending to save my family.

I think about Maisie’s pale face. About Alicia struggling with homework she can’t understand. About Dane wanting to drop out of school to work. About the rent demands and the medical bills and the credit cards maxed out beyond reason.

And then for some reason, I think about the woman from the bar—her amber eyes, her knowing smile, the way she made me feel like I was something interesting and fresh, instead of just another struggling girl in a city full of broken dreams.

But that woman is gone. She was never real anyway, just a fantasy that lasted all of five minutes.

This is real. This card, this choice, this chance to save the people I love most in the world.

I piece the card back together, lining up the torn edges until the phone number is whole again.

I pull out my cell and stare at the screen for a long moment. Once I dial this number, there’s no going back. Once I cross this line, I’ll become someone else entirely.

But maybe that’s what it takes. Maybe saving the people you love means sacrifice. And I would sacrifice anything and everything to keep my family together.

I take a shaky breath and dial the number.