Page 3 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Eva

T he Vegas Strip is as gaudy as it ever is, the red, yellow, blue flickers distracting from the empty promises of a city built on greed.

And yet here I am, back in this monument to human weakness.

I should be thinking about the meeting ahead. About Brie Colombo and her cronies. About the Gattos and their destruction.

Instead, Robin Rivers’ voice echoes in my mind like a song I can’t silence.

“There isn’t enough money in the world to take me away from my sister right now.”

The defiance in her voice, the steel in her spine as she faced me down in that dreary hospital room—it shouldn’t surprise me anymore.

Robin has always been stubborn, has always been slow to obey.

It’s one of the things that drew me to her in the first place, that fierce loyalty in her that burns brighter than common sense.

It’s also one of the things that will destroy her if she’s not careful.

I have to force my hand down from my mouth, where I’d been about to chew on a nail, a nervous habit I broke years ago as a child.

Leon notices—of course he does. Leon notices everything.

But he doesn’t comment, simply sits across from me with that perfect posture of his, hands folded, waiting for me to speak.

The child in that hospital bed haunts me as much as Robin. Maisie, isn’t it? Maisie, with her pale skin and fragile face, hooked up to machines that beeped out the rhythm of her struggling life. She’s so young, so breakable, but there was something in her sleeping face that reminded me of?—

Don’t .

But the thought comes anyway, of course. She reminded me of my father. Not physically, of course—Zoltan Novak was never fragile, never weak—but in that same stubborn refusal to surrender until the very end.

Maisie has a chance, though. A future that my father lost the moment some bastard put him in a coma. She has potential, hope, years of life ahead of her if she gets the right treatment.

If Robin accepts my offer.

If Robin doesn’t, well...

Then I’ll ensure the child gets what she needs anyway. Robin can hate me for it—God knows she already does—but I won’t let an innocent child die because of her pride.

The realization is unexpected. When did I become someone who saves children? When did I start caring about anything beyond my own empire, my own carefully constructed world of power and control?

I know the answer, even if I don’t want to acknowledge it. It started with Robin. Everything started with Robin.

“Arrange for the girl’s treatment,” I say.

Leon’s dark eyes meet mine. “The sister?”

“Whatever it takes. Money, specialists, transport if necessary.” The words come out clipped, businesslike, as if I’m discussing a routine weapons shipment instead of a child’s life.

“And pay off that bloodsucking slumlord who’s been threatening them, too.

” Leon’s report to me yesterday about all of Robin Rivers’ current woes came complete with the paltry sum that she owed on her rent.

Paying it off will give her some breathing room.

And I want Robin to make her decision with a clear head.

To remember the benefits of bending to my will.

Leon takes out his phone and begins making calls. He doesn’t ask why. Doesn’t probe into my motives or question the wisdom of spending Consortium resources on a dying child in Las Vegas, or paying someone’s overdue rent. He knows when to speak and when to simply execute orders without judgment.

The car glides to a stop outside the Golden Sands Casino, its facade glittering as much as the woman who now runs it.

My bodyguards appear immediately from the cars in front and behind, the security convoy Leon always organizes for my meetings.

They cover my exit from the car—after Paris, we can’t be too careful—and usher me toward the entrance.

I walk through the marble lobby in the midst of them, my head barely coming up to their shoulders.

But my presence here in Vegas is the same as everywhere else.

Conversations falter as I pass. Patrons glance my way and then quickly look away, some primitive instinct warning them not to stare too long.

They know power when they see it. They know danger. And they don’t want to attract it.

If only they knew how fractured I feel beneath this perfect exterior. How one woman has taken a sledgehammer to the foundations of everything I thought I was.

The private boardroom is exactly the same. Brie Colombo sits at the head of the table in a cream suit and a lot of heavy gold jewelry, her blonde hair swept back from her face in a style that makes her look every inch the successful businesswoman.

She has grown into her role. Even I have to admit that.

But she is not the only person present in the room.

Dominika Kusek sits at Brie’s right hand, silent and watchful as a hawk. She still has her father’s eyes. Mikolaj’s eyes, the same ones that used to look at me with something approaching affection when he served as my father’s bodyguard years ago.

Before his daughter betrayed everything our families had built together.

Seeing her here, serving Brie Colombo instead of me, is salt in a wound that refuses to heal. Dominika should have been my lieutenant, a trusted ally. Instead, she sits at another woman’s table, and every time I look at her I’m reminded of my failures.

Perhaps that’s why I hate her so much. Not for who she is, or even what she’s done, but for what she represents.

Another mark against me in a ledger that’s already too long.

“Shall we begin?” I take the seat across from them, Leon moving to stand behind my chair like a sentinel. His presence is comforting, a reminder that while some people may choose to betray the Novak Consortium, others have loyalty stronger than death.

Brie’s smile widens. “I’ve spoken to the Styx Syndicate. They’re interested in lending a hand, but they’re not willing to risk their own resources without certain assurances from the Novak Consortium. So with that in mind, let’s talk over this new contract.”

I incline my head slightly, the picture of icy composure.

On the surface, I’m focused on strategy, weighing the implications of this three-way alliance against the Gattos.

Considering supply lines and Brie’s requests and the delicate balance of power that she wants to maintain with other organizations in Las Vegas, to keep the criminal underworld from devolving into open warfare.

But underneath, my mind isn’t in this boardroom at all.

It’s back at that hospital, tangled up in Robin’s strawberry blonde hair.

It’s replaying the fire in her blue eyes when she told me there wasn’t enough money in the world to make her leave her sister.

It’s remembering the way her voice shook even as her spine stayed straight, the contradiction of vulnerability and strength that defines everything about Robin Rivers.

My impossible, infuriating Robin.

She’s not yours , I remind myself viciously. You sent her away, remember? You chose your grief over her warmth, your pride over her heart.

“This shipment routes through the port authority in LA,” Brie continues, spreading documents across the mahogany table. “So we’d need to coordinate with your people in Cali, make sure the weapons reach us without interference.”

I should care about this. Should be dissecting every word for hidden meanings, every pause for signs of deception. Any alliance with her—even one that I initiated myself to rid the world of the Gattos—requires constant vigilance.

Instead, I find myself wondering what Robin is doing right now. Is she still sitting beside her sister’s bed, holding that fragile hand and pretending she’s strong enough to carry the weight of her family’s world? Is her brother arguing with her, pleading with her?

Or is she already planning to accept my offer? Already resigning herself to another thirty days in my castle, in my bed, under my control?

Leon shifts behind me, the movement so subtle that anyone else would miss it. But I understand his warning. He knows I’m not fully present. Knows my mind is elsewhere.

He knows me too well, sometimes.

Brie Colombo is waiting expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“The timeline?” I ask after a moment.

“Six weeks,” Dominika speaks for the first time, flat and professional.

She doesn’t look at me, keeps her eyes fixed on the documents spread between us.

“The Gattos have been shoring up their territory and making friends. If we’re doing this, the response needs to be sudden and complete. There can be no loose ends.”

She could have been sitting at my table instead of Brie’s, planning strategies that served my interests instead of my rivals’.

But that was before she chose love over duty and walked away from everything. From me .

Just like Robin will walk away again, even if she swallows her pride and crawls back to me for another thirty days. Once she’s paid her debts and saved her sister, she’ll have no reason at all to stay with me.

“Fine,” I say abruptly, the word cutting through Brie’s detailed explanation of the weapons they require. “Whatever you need. The Consortium will provide it all.”

Silence falls over the boardroom. Brie’s eyebrows arch once more, but in surprise this time. Even Dominika looks at me now, her dark eyes narrowing as she studies my face.

“You’re very agreeable today,” Brie says carefully, and I can hear the suspicion in her voice.

“I have other pressing matters to attend to. Las Vegas might be the center of your world, but it is not the center of mine.”

Brie studies me for a long moment. She’s looking for weakness, for some sign that the great Eva Novak might finally be showing cracks in her armor. Part of me wants to give her something to sink her teeth into, just to see if she’s brave enough to try.

But I don’t have time for games. Not when Robin is sitting in that hospital room, weighing my offer against her pride, deciding whether to save her sister or preserve what’s left of her dignity.

Not when every second I spend in this boardroom is another second away from the only person who’s ever made me feel fully alive.

“I have given you my word,” I tell her. “The Consortium will provide whatever resources the Colombos or the Syndicate think they need. There will be no hold ups.”

“Excellent,” Brie says finally, though she still looks like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I’ll speak to the Syndicate again, but if you can push these deliveries through, that will do a lot to build goodwill from them.”

I rise from my chair. Leon falls into step behind me without a word.

“Eva.” Nik’s voice stops me as I reach the door. I turn, meeting her dark eyes for the first time since entering the room.

For a moment, something flickers across her face—concern? Regret? But it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

“Be careful while you’re here,” she says. Leon scowls at her, hearing—as always—a threat, but I put a hand on his arm.

“Why?”

“Because the Gattos didn’t take your hot-and-cold act well. If they get a chance to show their displeasure, they will. And after what happened in Paris…” She shrugs. “We all heard about that. It was a close call, wasn’t it?”

I scoff. “If the Gattos want my head, they’ll need to improve an awful lot.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t take skill,” Dominika says. “Sometimes all it takes is a little luck. And we are in Vegas, after all.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” I reply, my voice light despite her gravity. “And I won’t hide myself away just because some third-rate mobster got his feelings hurt. Besides, if you Colombos do what you say you will, I won’t have to worry much longer. Correct?”

Dominika almost smiles at that. Almost. “Correct.”

I leave without another word, striding back through the casino’s marble lobby with the same purposeful pace that brought me here.

But everything feels different now. The lights seem brighter, the sounds sharper, the air thinner.

Like I’m moving through a world that doesn’t quite fit anymore, wearing a skin that no longer belongs to me.

I shouldn’t have come back to Vegas. Dominika was right about that. But not because of the Gattos.

Still, it’s too late to back out now.