Page 4 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Robin

T he hospital hallway, where I drew Adrian aside to speak to him, feels dark despite the overhead fluorescents.

I pace its narrow length for the hundredth time, my boots scuffing against cheap linoleum that’s seen too many desperate families wearing paths in its surface.

But I can’t stop moving. If I stop, I’ll have to think about Eva’s offer hanging over my head like a sword, and I’m not ready for that.

Not yet. And I’m not ready to hear Adrian’s reaction to my story, either.

His older sister selling herself at auction, bargaining with her body. When I shoot a nervous glance at him, he looks thoughtful.

Not horrified or shocked or disgusted, like he should be.

I told him bluntly, straight out, so that he could understand the real cost of that ten million dollars dangled in the air.

My arms are crossed so tightly across my chest that my ribs ache, but I can’t seem to unwind them. Everything feels too tight—my clothes, my skin, my throat. Like I’m being slowly strangled by choices I don’t want to make.

Eva Novak. That goddamn viper . The way she looked at me in Maisie’s room—like I was a particularly interesting specimen she wanted to add back to her collection. The casual way she threw around numbers that could change our lives forever.

The arrogance of it. The sheer fucking arrogance .

She thinks she can waltz back into my life after destroying me, after sending me away like I was nothing more than a used tissue, and buy me all over again. She thinks money solves everything, that enough zeros can erase her casual cruelty, get me eating out of her hand once more.

But it’s not about the money, is it? And she knows that.

It’s about Maisie lying in that bed, pale as paper.

“You’re wearing yourself out,” Adrian says quietly from his spot against the wall. His voice is gentle, but I can hear the exhaustion underneath it. Everything is taking a toll on him, too, and that just makes me feel worse.

I spin to face him, and I must look like a wild thing because he takes a small step back. “She’s toxic, Adrian. She thinks she can throw money at me and buy my soul all over again.”

My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate it. Hate the vulnerability it betrays, the way it reveals exactly how much Eva Novak got under my skin. How much she hurt me.

“I know. I get it. We’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way.”

Adrian’s expression shifts, becomes something softer and sadder.

He knows. Of course he knows. Adrian has always been able to read me like an open book, has always seen through my attempts to pretend I’m stronger than I am.

He exhales heavily, tugging at the hair curling at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t want to save one sister at the expense of another,” he says. “We’ll find another way.”

I stop pacing at last and throw up my hands. “There’s no other way,” I say again. But this time it’s without heat.

Without hope.

“I already did it once,” I go on. “What’s thirty days compared to the rest of my life—and Maisie’s life, more importantly?”

It’s true, isn’t it? I already stood on an auction stage and let myself be sold to the highest bidder because Maisie needed surgery and we were drowning in debt.

Already let myself be taken away to Eva’s castle, taken into her bed, let her touch me and taste me and make me feel things I’d never felt before…

All for my family. All for love.

“I’m doing it,” I say firmly. “I’ll do it.”

“Robin…” And for the first time, I hear past my own selfish pain to hear the agony in Adrian’s voice. “I can’t let you do this. Mom would never forgive me if I…”

I stare at him, this brother who’s grown up too fast, who’s shouldered burdens no eighteen-year-old should have to carry. His eyes are steady on mine, unflinching, and I can see the guilt there. The self-hatred.

He hates himself that he’s hoping I’ll do it anyway. Hates that we’re in a position where letting his older sister sell herself is the only option left.

“You don’t get a say,” I say flatly. “No,” I go on, as he tries to argue again. “This is my choice, Adrian. And it’s made. You can’t do anything about it except support me in it, and—and if you think Mom would be ashamed of me, then you don’t even need to do that.”

He blinks rapidly and looks away. “Of course I’ll support you,” he says roughly. “Whatever you need.”

“I need you to take care of everyone while I’m away.” Now that I’ve made the decision, come to terms with it, I feel suddenly calm again. Because this is what love looks like sometimes. Making impossible choices and living with the consequences.

And damn this whole rotten world that forces human beings to choose between dignity and survival.

“Robin,” Adrian says, and closes the few steps between us to take my hand. “That wasn’t what I meant about Mom. She wouldn’t be ashamed of you. I just wish I could have done more so that you didn’t have to…do what you did.”

I squeeze his hand, about to tell him how much I love him, when footsteps sound at the end of the hallway, and we both whip around, tense and on edge. But it’s just the doctor—Dr. Martinez, a kind-faced man in his fifties who’s been treating Maisie since we brought her in this time round.

He’s carrying a clipboard and despite the fact that he’s wearing a smile, my stomach drops, preparing for another blow.

“Good news,” he says, and the words are so unexpected that I blink stupidly at him. “We can prep Maisie immediately. It’s an excellent protocol—she should respond very quickly, and will probably be home by the end of the week.”

I stare at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Wait—what? Did the insurance company finally come around, or?—?”

The doctor’s smile falters slightly, confusion flickering across his features. “Didn’t anyone tell you? An anonymous benefactor has offered to cover all costs for Maisie’s operation. Everything—the medication, the procedure, aftercare, home visits from a nurse. It’s all been arranged.”

Anonymous benefactor, my ass.

There’s only one person in Las Vegas with a motive for this, and she just happened to visit us a few hours ago.

Heat floods my cheeks. Fury and humiliation and—so much worse— relief .

Because of course Eva did this. She couldn’t wait for my answer, couldn’t give me the dignity of making my own choice. She had to swoop in like some twisted fairy godmother and solve our problems without permission.

Just to rub my nose in it.

Adrian catches my gaze, his expression solemn. He doesn’t say a word, but I can see the deep relief in his eyes. Eva has backed me into a corner so neatly I almost have to admire the strategy. Almost.

“That’s…great news,” I manage, my mouth tasting like sawdust. “Let’s get started.”

Dr. Martinez beams, obviously pleased to be delivering good news for once. “Wonderful. I’ll get the paperwork started immediately.”

And then he hands me the first form and heads off to get more, leaving Adrian and me alone. I sink into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs against the wall, suddenly exhausted beyond measure.

“Maybe she—” Adrian starts, but I hold up a hand to stop him.

“No. She only ever does things for one reason: to benefit herself.”

He sighs and just sits silently next to me as I fill in form after form. And after that, with knowing certainty, I use my phone to check the online portal where I’m supposed to deposit the rent each month. Usually it’s bright red, an angry reminder that I’m well behind.

When I log in this time, it’s a calm blue. The backlog has cleared and the rent has been paid up for the next six months. I show Adrian silently, who just sighs again.

Because there’s nothing left to say. Eva has made her move. The trap is already sprung. And there’s only one currency she’ll accept as payment.

Hours later, as dawn begins to creep around the window blinds, and long after Adrian left to check on Dane and Alicia, I’m sitting beside Maisie’s bed watching the first of many medications drip slowly into her IV line.

We’re in a private room now, rather than the four-bed, curtained-off space from before.

Another requirement from our “anonymous benefactor,” the nurses told me.

The operation was simple, quick, but the change is almost immediate—color is returning to Maisie’s cheeks, her breathing is easier, the tight lines of pain around her eyes are smoothing away.

She’s going to be okay.

I have to bite my lip to keep from sobbing with relief. After years of watching her fade away, of feeling helpless and desperate and scared, she’s really going to be okay.

“Robin?” Maisie’s voice is soft but stronger than it’s been in days. Her blue eyes—so much like my own—flutter open to focus on my face.

“Hey, baby girl.” I stroke her hair back from her forehead, marveling at how much better she looks already. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” She manages a small smile.

“I bet you are. But you’re going to be fine, Maisie. You’re going to get better and come home and drive us all crazy with your terrible jokes.”

She giggles weakly at that, and the sound is like angels singing, better than anything I’ve ever heard. For the first time, the grip in my chest eases just slightly.

Some things are worth any price.

A faint sound from the doorway makes me glance up. Eva Novak stands there like a gathering storm in human form. She’s not smiling, exactly, but there’s something satisfied in her expression—like a cat that’s just caught a particularly clever mouse.

Of course she’s here. Of course she couldn’t just send a car to pick me up for what she knew would be an inevitable “yes” from me. She had to come and witness the moment when her “generosity” bought her what she really wanted.

Maisie follows my gaze and her eyes widen with curiosity rather than fear. “Who’s that?” she whispers. “She’s really pretty.”

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay level. “A friend. She’s the one paying for your treatments.”

Friend. As if Eva Novak is the kind of person who has friends instead of assets and enemies.

Maisie’s face lights up with pure joy. “Really? Thank you!” She tries to sit up and I fuss over her at once.

Behind me, I hear Eva takes a few steps closer. When I glance up, her amber eyes fix on Maisie with an intensity that should be frightening, but somehow isn’t.

“You’re very welcome,” Eva says, and her voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it. “But your only job now is to get better. Can you do that?”

Maisie nods solemnly, taking the request with the seriousness that children bring to adult conversations. “I totally promise. I’m going to get strong so Robin doesn’t have to look after me anymore.”

“I’ll never stop looking after you,” I tell Maisie at once, grabbing her hand. “So don’t you dare even think that.”

Something flickers across Eva’s face—something that’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it. But for just a moment, she doesn’t look like the ice queen arms dealer who bought me at auction. She looks almost...human.

Don’t tell me she has a heart in there somewhere, I think bitterly. She’s not capable of genuine feeling.

She’s only capable of faking it when it suits her purposes.

“What’s your name?” Maisie asks.

“Eva.” She’s close enough now to reach out and take Maisie’s hand.

I rise abruptly just before her fingers contact, my chair scraping against the tile floor with a harsh sound that makes Maisie wince. “Eva and I need to discuss some details,” I say, my voice tight.

“Okay,” Maisie says, settling back against her pillows with a contented sigh. The pain medication is already making her drowsy, pulling her into a healing sleep. “Thank you, Eva. You’re…very…”

I wait a moment to make sure Maisie is asleep, and then I stalk toward the door without looking back. “Come on,” I toss sharply over my shoulder, not caring how I sound.

Eva follows, and we walk in silence down the hospital corridor, past nurses who duck their heads and visitors who instinctively move out of our way as they see the look on my face. I don’t know where I’m going—just away from Maisie, away from witnesses to whatever conversation we’re about to have.

I find an empty family conference room and shoulder the door open, stepping inside without waiting to see if Eva will follow. She does, of course, closing the door behind her with a soft click that sounds unnaturally loud in the silence.

The room is small and sterile, furnished with uncomfortable chairs and a table that’s seen too many difficult conversations. The usual fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting everything in that same sickly yellow glow that invades everywhere in this place.

I turn to face Eva, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. She stands near the door like she’s blocking my escape route, though we both know I’m not going anywhere.

Not when Eva holds all the cards.

“Well?” I demand. “Are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?”

Eva’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in her eyes. “What I wanted was to help a sick child. Forgive me if that offends your delicate sensibilities.”

The words are delivered in that cool, mocking tone I remember so well. The one that used to make me want to slap her and kiss her in equal measure. The one that made me feel like a naive little girl playing games with a lioness.

“Don’t.” I take a step toward her, anger overriding common sense. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend this is about charity. You manipulated this entire situation. You forced my hand.”

“I offered you a choice,” Eva says calmly. “You still have a choice.”

“Of course I don’t! You did all that for Maisie without asking me. Without giving me any say in the matter.” My voice is rising, but I can’t seem to stop it. “You decided that my sister’s life was yours to bargain with!”

For the first time since entering the room, Eva’s mask slips slightly. Something hot and dangerous flashes in her eyes—not quite anger, but close enough to make my pulse spike.

“Your sister was dying,” she says, her voice still level but carrying an edge that could cut steel. “I could see that the moment I laid eyes on her. I didn’t save her life for you , Robin. I saved it for her . Don’t be so damn solipsistic.”

Maisie was dying, Eva just saved her life, and here I am complaining about the method instead of being grateful for the result.

But how can I be grateful when it comes with strings attached? Eva’s generosity is just another form of control, another way to bind me to her will.

“What do you want? ” I ask quietly, suddenly exhausted by the whole charade. “What’s the real price for this miraculous intervention?”

Eva studies me for a long moment. When she speaks, her voice is soft.

“You already know. I want you , little bird.”