Page 27 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Eva

B ottles appear from the sideboard. Soon the fire roars, and Dimi lounges like the wastrel he is, teasing me mercilessly until, despite myself, I smile.

“Your taste in lovers is appalling,” I tell him.

“My taste is impeccable. They just can’t handle me.” He points at me with his glass. “Whereas you finally find a woman who makes you feel something, and what do you do? Push her away.”

“Don’t.” My voice is low, sharp.

He softens again, shrugging. “I’m only saying. We’re a tragic pair, aren’t we?”

The hours blur into warmth and haze. We talk nonsense, trade jabs, laugh too loud in the hollow of the hall. For a little while, the ache in my heart dulls.

And eventually, when I close my eyes, sleep sneaks up on me.

Morning arrives before we realize it. Light slants through the huge window, stabbing at my eyes. My head throbs dully; Dimi is sprawled across a velvet divan like a felled cat.

The noise of feet outside the doors breaks the silence. A moment later, one of the kitchen staff peeks in. “Ma’am—sir—forgive me, but we’ve just had word from Mira?—”

“Mira?” Dimi says, sitting up. “She’s that gorgeous villager who tears around the forest on a dirt bike, isn’t she? She might be just the antidote to my broken heart.”

“Absolutely not,” I snap at him, and then turn back to the kitchen maid. “What news did Mira bring?”

“Your uncle’s on his way to the castle, ma’am,” she blurts, breathless. “And, well, we thought you’d like to know, seeing as…” She gestures toward Dimi, who groans and clutches his head.

“How ghastly to face my father with a hangover.” He turns beseeching eyes on me. “Eva, I beg you. Hide me. He’ll lecture me for hours about wasted potential. I couldn’t bear it.”

“Coward,” I say, though affection tugs at my mouth.

“Pragmatist,” he corrects.

I glance back to the maid. “Is Mira still here?”

“She is, ma’am.”

“I suppose you’d better beg her for a ride back to the airfield, Dimi,” I sigh.

“Tell them I said to loan you one of the helicopters. Or the Vision jet, if you prefer,” I add, as he starts to whine again.

Dimi has always hated helicopters. “Your choice. Now off you go—better run fast if you want to catch Mira.”

He stumbles to his feet, pulling on his coat. “Point me to the nearest escape before I’m dragged into some dismal family conference.”

I gesture toward the side wall. “Secret passage,” I remind him. He should have thought of it before I did. He was crazy about them as a child, always looking for new passages that time forgot. He found more than a few, in fact. “Go. Quickly .”

He grins at me then, wolfish again, despite the pallor of his hangover. “See you soon, cuz.”

He slips out through the hidden panel. I press up against the windows and just catch sight of Mira revving her dirt bike by the side gate. Dimi swings onto the back, arms wrapped around her waist, shouting something undoubtedly cheeky as they roar away toward the village, through the forest.

I find my smile lingering. Dimi is exasperating and reckless, but somehow, he’s the only one who’s made me feel even a little bit better since I left Vegas.

Stefan arrives soon after. I hear the car in the courtyard, the slam of heavy doors, the familiar cadence of his footsteps. He enters my study with only a brief knock, his silvered hair immaculate despite the journey.

“Eva.” His eyes, so like my own, take in my appearance as he pauses in the doorway. “You look terrible.”

“It’s been a long few days.” I gesture to the chair across from my desk. “Coffee?”

He accepts the coffee I pour out, settling into the leather with a satisfied sigh. “I was so worried when I heard about the attack. Are you hurt?”

“Nothing serious. A mild concussion.” It was a little more than mild, but I can’t stand being fussed over.

“And Robin? How is she handling the shock?”

I keep my expression neutral, take a sip of strong black coffee before answering. “I have no idea. I discarded her, just like all the previous women.”

Stefan’s concern morphs into surprise, and I know I’ve played the role correctly. Eva Novak doesn’t do emotional attachments. Eva Novak uses people and throws them away when they become inconvenient.

It’s the best protection I can offer Robin now—an indifference that will convince everyone she meant nothing to me. That targeting her would be pointless because I’ve already moved on.

Stefan watches me carefully for a long moment. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Eva. She was a lovely young woman.”

I give a bored sigh. “As I told you, she was a temporary amusement. Nothing more.”

But even as I say it, I remember Robin’s hand on mine in that hospital room, the way she whispered that she loved me.

The way she walked away without looking back because she knew it would break me.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Stefan says, “because the attack in Vegas confirms a lead I picked up in Sicily. The Gattos have been planning this for a long time—not just the hit on you, but attempts to disrupt the entire Consortium.”

I set down my glass. “The Gattos ?”

“I know. I could hardly believe it myself. But I’ve found evidence they were behind your father’s shooting, and the attempted shooting in Paris. The auction where you met Robin? That was a Gatto operation designed to draw you in—you were never supposed to leave their casino that night.”

“How do you know about the auction?” I demand. I know I’ve never told him before.

“Leon,” he says gently. “I’m afraid Leon thought I should know. I’m sorry if it embarrasses you?—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s embarrassing is that the Gattos are the ones behind all this and we didn’t find out until now.” The Gattos—a third-rate Family—have been orchestrating attacks against the Novak Consortium? Against my father? Against me ? I give a frustrated scoff. “You’re certain?”

Stefan nods grimly. “I have confirmation from three independent sources. That’s why I’m here, Eva. To fulfil my duty to you. To deliver your father’s killers into your hands. I’ll go through all the evidence with you, of course, but…”

Stefan talks on as I let it sink in. The Gattos targeted my father. Killed Marcus and God knows how many other loyal soldiers. Put Robin in danger simply by proxy of her connection to me.

“We will eradicate them completely,” I say at last, my voice deadly quiet, but Stefan falls silent at once. “Every last one.”

Stefan raises his coffee in a toast.

“Uncle.” I lean back in my chair, studying his face. “I owe you an apology for how I spoke to you before. When you tried to warn me about…Robin. You were right. I was being selfish.”

Something flickers in his expression—surprise, maybe. “I was looking out for you, Eva. That’s all I was doing. I have no desire to see you lose anyone else in your lifetime. You’ve suffered enough. Family looks out for family.”

“Family,” I echo. “Yes. We need to stick together, especially now.”

He rises from his chair, moving to the window that overlooks the black lake below. “Your father would be very proud of you, Eva. You’ve become everything he hoped you’d be.”

Later that day, after Stefan leaves, I sit alone in my study as darkness falls over the castle grounds.

The village is having some sort of traditional celebration to banish winter and welcome spring, and I can hear the music even up here in the castle.

I think about Robin walking those village streets, buying bread and smiling at children who now attend a newly renovated school.

I’ve become everything my father hoped I’d be, Stefan said.

Is this really what he wanted for me? A cold, loveless existence with only power and money to keep me warm? A castle full of shadows and the echo of my own footsteps, no laughter to break the silence, no warmth to chase away the chill?

I think of Dominika Kusek, sneering at my attempts to lure her away from Brie Colombo with promises of wealth and influence. I know what you can’t offer me, she’d said. Love .

At the time, I’d been insulted by her dismissal, angry that she’d chosen sentiment over strategy. But now I understand how pitiful I must have seemed—a woman with everything money could buy, offering more of the same to someone who’d already found something infinitely more valuable.

For the first time, I wonder if Nik was right to walk away. If love really is more powerful than all the weapons and influence I could ever provide. But now isn’t the time for philosophical musings about the nature of power versus affection.

Now is the time for war.

I pick up my phone and dial Brie Colombo’s number. She answers on the second ring, her voice crisp and professional.

“Eva. I was wondering when I’d hear from you. I hope you’ve recovered after that attack here in Vegas? It wasn’t us, if that’s what you were?—”

“I need to know your decision,” I cut in, because of course the attack in Vegas didn’t come from the Colombos.

Brie is neither stupid nor reckless enough to try to take me out, but the Gattos are, and the evidence Uncle Stefan showed me during his visit was enough to convince me.

“The Colombos, the Syndicate, the Bianchi Family—are you going to help me wipe out the Gattos, or has your lover poisoned the well?”

There’s a pause, and I can hear a smile in Brie’s voice when she responds. “Nik really riled you up, huh? As a matter of fact, she wanted to nix the whole thing. But…”

“But?”

“Hadria Imperioli talked her around in the end.”

“Hadria Imperioli?” I repeat, startled. She wasn’t exactly my biggest fan.

“Yeah. You know, Hadria’s relationship didn’t exactly have a traditional start, either. She said the important thing was that you seemed committed to destroying a group that was selling women.”

They don’t seem to have heard that Robin and I broke up. If we were ever really together. That’s probably for the best. “And my commitment remains absolute,” I tell Brie. “The Gattos must be obliterated.”

No need to mention their possible involvement in my father’s death, or attempts on my own life. Dominika will just start throwing unhelpful terms like “hidden motives” around, and scare them off again.

“Good.” Brie’s tone shifts to pure business. “Then I’ll send over that contract we talked about.”

After I hang up, I pour out a glass of wine and toast the empty air. To power. To the Consortium. To the deaths about to rain down on the people who dared to threaten me and mine.

Even if what was mine is already gone.

Even if she’s better off without me.