Page 14 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Eva

I n the gray hours just before dawn, I wake and leave Robin sleeping in my bed. If last night told me one thing, it’s that I can influence her—can make her think good things about me, even—but I can’t give her what she really wants.

What she deserves.

And besides, Uncle Stefan is arriving today. I expected him for the interment but he was held up in Poland, tracking down a lead on my father’s killer, and possibly my own attempted assassin. He seems to think they are not the same person, but I’m not sure I agree.

Either way, I have entrusted him to deal with the matter. When he finds the killer, then I will exact vengeance. But as head of the Consortium, I don’t have time to be running around the world checking out leads that go nowhere.

But when I hear the car approaching, I find myself nervous to go down to greet him in the courtyard, simply because I know she is in the Great Hall, and might see me as I pass.

This morning, from the CCTV footage in my study, I watched Robin wake alone. She stretched with a smile, and then reached out to find an empty bed. Her smile died, and I felt something I’ve never felt before.

Shame.

So after spending most of the day avoiding Robin, I watch now in the late afternoon from the second floor as Uncle Stefan steps from the car, leather gloves tucked neatly under one arm, his silver-threaded hair immaculately combed.

Leon, who drove him in from the airfield, is there as well and looking around for me, since I told him I would meet them in the courtyard.

But Robin must have heard the arrival too, because as I watch, she comes out into the courtyard with a hopeful smile.

She must have thought it was me.

Her smile only wavers for a moment when she sees Stefan instead, who greets her with a gallant bow. “Miss Rivers, isn’t it?” he says. I can hear them faintly if I listen carefully. “I remember you from my last visit. Stefan Novak. Eva’s uncle.”

Robin relaxes and nods, laughing at the next thing he says, though I don’t catch it. She finds him polite, I think bitterly. Even comforting.

So unlike her surly, intimidating host.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Novak,” Robin says, accepting his offered arm as he escorts her up the castle steps.

“A much greater pleasure for me to see you , I can assure you,” Stefan replies with that easy charm, and Robin laughs.

Of course she’d respond to him. Everyone does. Stefan has always possessed the kind of effortless charisma that I never inherited from my father’s side of the family. Where I command through fear, Stefan wins hearts with warmth.

I’m lucky that I was born beautiful, because I really am horrifying underneath this outward shell. It’s why I take such care of myself, why I dress in the finest designer clothes and use the most expensive creams and cosmetics.

If my outsides matched my insides, I’d never get laid.

Perhaps that’s why I’m so attracted to Robin. She has a light inside her that I’ll never have myself.

As I head down the staircase I can hear them in the Great Hall.

Stefan compliments Robin’s rosy cheeks, says something about how nice it is to see life returning to the castle, that she must have brought the spring with her.

Robin giggles—actually giggles —and I can picture her blushing faintly, ducking her head with pleased embarrassment.

My jaw tightens as I descend the stairs and enter the Hall. “Uncle Stefan. How lovely to see you.”

“I’ve been eager to see you,” he replies, turning to embrace me. In our own language, he adds, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here for the interment. Dimitri sends his condolences, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll go down and pay my respects tomorrow, but I wanted to see you first.”

“That’s very kind of you,” I reply stiffly, and then add, “and Robin knows about it all, by the way, so you may speak freely about my father in her presence.”

He pulls back to look into my face, then glances over at Robin, and I see surprise in his eyes. “Is that so?” he asks. “Well, perhaps it’s good that you had someone here to comfort you.”

Yes. That’s all it was, this lapse of judgment. Tavern lunches and picnics and sleeping with my arms around another—just a need for comfort.

“I’ll let you rest before dinner,” I tell him in English, and then say quickly, as Robin sends me a hopeful look, “I have work to get on with in the meantime.”

I embrace Stefan again and then I try not to look like I’m hurrying away.

I wish I didn’t feel like such a coward.

At dinner, Stefan holds court with stories of Zoltan Novak—reminiscing about my father’s commanding presence, his sense of duty, his devotion to the Consortium’s legacy.

Robin listens intently, occasionally meeting Stefan’s eyes across the table, nodding politely at his tales of the great man who shaped our family empire after the fall of the Soviet Union.

“He had such vision,” Stefan says, carving into his roast duck. “Such dedication to preserving what our grandfather built, while expanding with so many new opportunities. Everything he did was for the family, for the future.”

“He sounds like a remarkable man,” Robin offers softly.

“He was.” Stefan’s expression grows wistful. “I do wish I could have been here with you, Eva, when you interred his ashes. But as I said, I’d like to pay my respects tomorrow. Visit his memorial, maybe speak to some of the locals who remember him, if they were as fond of him as Robin says.”

Robin’s contribution to the conversation tonight was to talk glowingly of the villagers’ love for my father.

Her face brightens now. “I’d be delighted to walk down with you, if you’d like.

I know some of the villagers now, and they have such wonderful stories about the Novak family’s generosity over the years. ”

Stefan’s smile deepens, taking on an almost paternal quality. “That would be wonderful, my dear. Thank you.”

I stab my fork into my duck a little harder than necessary, the silver scraping against porcelain. The easy way they connect, the natural warmth between them—it doesn’t feel fair .

Robin hasn’t been so at ease with me since…

Well, since Paris.

After dinner, Stefan and I retreat to my study for brandy and the real conversation. The fire crackles as we settle into the armchairs in front of it, and he swirls the brandy with approval in his crystal snifter.

“You’ve always been your father’s daughter, Eva,” he says softly, studying me over the rim of his glass. “But perhaps it’s time to remember what that means.”

The words carry an edge despite his gentle tone. “And what does it mean, exactly?”

“Duty before personal desire. The Consortium before individual wants.” Stefan’s eyes, so like my father’s, fix on mine with uncomfortable intensity. “Strength and focus.”

I sip my brandy as I consider my reply. “I assume this is leading somewhere specific.”

“There’s unrest in the Consortium,” Stefan says bluntly. “Whispers of discontent that even your recent European trips haven’t quelled. Some of the older families are questioning your priorities.”

“My priorities?” My voice drops to that dangerous tone that usually sends men twice Stefan’s size scrambling for cover.

“You’re spending so much time in America, and I can’t blame them for wondering why . They think you’re forgetting the old alliances.” Stefan leans forward, his expression earnest. “The business requires your full attention now more than ever, Eva.”

“The business has my full attention.”

“Does it?” Stefan’s voice softens with something like sympathy.

“I can tell that’s not true.” He pauses, studying my face with the same analytical expression my father used to employ.

“You cannot take your eyes off the American girl when she’s in the room.

And when she’s not, you unconsciously look for her. ”

Am I really so transparent?

“Surely you must see the danger to her ,” he goes on. “The lives we lead—it is selfish to pull someone into our world who doesn’t belong here.”

We’ve been speaking in Russian, as befits Consortium discussions, but I switch to English now, unwilling to mix Robin’s name with business.

“Robin is worth no more to me than any of my other girls,” I tell him coldly. My grip on the brandy snifter tightens until I’m surprised the crystal doesn’t crack. “When I’m tired of her, I’ll send her on her way, just as I always do.”

Stefan nods slowly, though he doesn’t look convinced.

A faint movement catches my eye—a shadow flickering under the doorway. Then I catch it because I’m listening for it: the soft sound of footsteps hurrying away down the corridor.

My stomach drops like a stone.

Robin. Those were Robin’s footsteps, quick and light. She must have heard what I said, my casual dismissal. The way I classified her as just another in a long line of bought companions, interchangeable and disposable.

And so whatever fragile connection has bloomed between us over picnics and village walks and tender moments in bed, I’ve incinerated it once more with a few carelessly chosen words.

Stefan doesn’t seem to have heard. He continues talking, something about maintaining appearances and remembering our obligations, but his voice fades to background noise. All I can think about is the look that must have been on Robin’s face when she heard me reduce her to nothing.

“Are you listening, Eva?” Stefan’s voice cuts through my spiral of self-recrimination.

“Yes,” I lie, forcing my expression back to neutral. “Of course.”

But I’m not listening. I’m wondering how much damage I’ve just done, how many steps backward I’ve taken, how many walls I’ve just rebuilt between myself and the one person who’s made me want to be better than I am.

I don’t know if it can be fixed. Not again.

And so perhaps Uncle Stefan is right. Perhaps it’s time for me to put distractions aside and focus on business.