Page 6 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Robin

T he hospital room feels different now that Maisie is so much better, as if hope itself has taken residence in the sterile white walls.

But I know better than most how cruel hope can be.

Maisie sits up in bed, her blonde hair sticking up in adorable tufts as she giggles at something Adrian says.

The sound is untainted by the weeks of pain and fear that came before.

Her cheeks have color again, her eyes bright with the kind of mischief that belongs to healthy eleven-year-olds everywhere.

I watch her laugh, and my chest aches with a complex tangle of emotions I can’t begin to untangle.

Relief, of course, sweet and heavy as honey, but it’s laced with something bitter and poisonous.

This is what Eva Novak’s money can buy—miracles tied up in tangled strings I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to cut.

Part of me regrets telling her so blatantly that she’s a terrible person. She won’t forget that. Will probably punish me for it, once we get back to her—her lair . But I’m also glad I did, glad I showed her that while she might occupy my body and even my mind, my heart remains my own.

“Robin, tell Adrian about the nurse with the funny walk,” Maisie demands, shaking me out of my reverie as she bounces slightly in her excitement. The IV was removed from her arm soon after the operation, leaving only a small bandage now as evidence of how close we came to losing her.

I force a smile, pushing down the dread that’s been building in my stomach as we get closer to the time I can’t avoid: telling Maisie that I’m going away. Again.

“Which nurse?” I ask. “There are at least three nurses here with funny walks.”

Maisie dissolves into fresh giggles, and I store the sound away like a light I can pull out later when the darkness gets too thick.

Would Eva still demand I leave if she could understand the sacrifice she’s asking me to make? If she could witness this miracle she bought and paid for, see the joy in Maisie’s face, would she have any second thoughts about dragging me back to her castle?

The answer comes immediately. Of course she wouldn’t care. Eva Novak is a complete megabitch who doesn’t care about anyone’s happiness but her own.

And I can’t be stupid enough, naive enough, to let myself believe that she has anything resembling a heart beneath all that designer armor.

“Honey,” I begin carefully, with a glance at Adrian, who gives a brief nod. It’s time we told her. “We need to talk to you about something.”

Slowly, Maisie’s smile dies as she takes in my face. “What is it?”

Later, in our cramped apartment that suddenly feels more like home than it has in months, Adrian helps me pack my single suitcase. It feels like preparing for execution.

We pack in silence for the most part, and I’m grateful for that. But the closer we get to completion, the more agitated Adrian seems.

He doesn’t want me to go. After Maisie’s operation, he argued, why should I? It’s not like Eva Novak can rip the heart out of Maisie’s chest for reparation.

The very image of it made me wince.

Besides, it’s not Maisie’s heart I think Eva wants to get her claws into. It’s mine. What fun is owning and humiliating someone when they won’t give over every last piece of themselves? I might be naive, but I already learned that much in my time with her.

She’s a big black hole of neediness that will never be filled, but she’ll keep trying. Keep taking, keep swallowing people, countries, whole worlds in the pursuit of fulfilment.

“You’ll check in every day,” Adrian says, folding one of my sweaters. His voice is steady, but I can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes can’t settle on one thing.

I roll up and throw a pair of jeans into the bag forcefully, channeling my frustration into physical action. “I will. And if Maisie has any issues, or anything feels off— anything —you call me immediately.”

“I will,” Adrian promises, meeting my eyes with the kind of solemn certainty that makes my throat tight. “And Robin? If you need to come home—if things get really bad—just come home. Maisie is better. That’s all we need for now. We’ll figure out everything else.”

As if there are unlimited options. But I nod anyway, because Adrian needs to believe it.

The goodbye at the hospital is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Maisie hugs me fiercely, her thin arms stronger than they’ve been in weeks. I breathe her in, my heart beating fast. The doctors have suggested she can go home at the end of this week, but I didn’t think Eva would let me get away with asking for that extra time.

“You’re coming back, right?” Maisie whispers against my shoulder.

My throat tightens. “Of course I am, honey. It’s just for a little while.”

We told her the same story Eva floated when she first barged in: that I’ve been called back to the reality show for another chance to win.

Maisie pulls back to study my face, looking for lies, for the cracks in my confidence that I’m trying so hard to hide. I’m pretty sure she can tell something isn’t right. But finally, she gives me a brave little smile that just about shatters what’s left of my composure.

“Okay. But don’t be gone too long. Adrian’s cooking is terrible.”

“Hey!” Adrian protests from across the room, but he’s forcing a smile, too.

I kiss her forehead and tell myself to let go, even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to stay. To protect her. To never let her out of my sight again.

But I’ve learned that sometimes love means walking away. Sacrificing yourself so the people you care about can live.

Outside the hospital, Eva waits by a sleek black car, Leon hulking over her and looking this way and that as though there might be a sniper waiting somewhere around the hospital.

I give a quick shiver as I think of Paris, of the sudden shock as Leon bundled Eva back into the car and dived in after her.

I was afraid for her.

But it was foolish to fear for her. It’s like worrying about a shark or a lion as they’re about to devour you.

I square my shoulders and walk toward her with steady steps, each one carrying me further from everything I love. I refuse to show fear, refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

She’s already won. The least I can do is make her work for the victory lap.

“You ready?” Eva asks, her voice smooth. There’s something almost lazy in her tone, like this is all just a minor inconvenience in her otherwise perfect day.

I lift my chin, channeling every ounce of defiance I have left. “Don’t push me, Novak.”

Her lips curl in that faint, predatory smile I remember so well. The one that used to make my knees weak, back when I was naive enough to think she might actually care about me.

“I’m going to enjoy our time together, little bird,” she says softly.

Little bird. Like I’m something fragile and helpless, trapped in a cage of her making.

Like I’m prey.

The drive to the airport passes in tense silence.

I stare out the window and Eva stares at her phone.

The private jet is exactly as ridiculous as I remember—butter-soft leather seats, crystal and silver dining ware, and the faint scent of Eva’s perfume clinging to everything like an invisible claim.

It’s beautiful and luxurious and feels exactly like the gilded cage it is.

Eva settles into her seat like a queen awaiting tribute and, as the plane begins to taxi down the runway, she lays her amber gaze on me, as if enjoying the fact that I can’t back out now. Not unless I throw myself out of the damn plane.

I don’t much like flying. I’ve discovered this thanks to Eva’s penchant for air travel. And being on this plane forces me to remember that time we…

As if reading my mind, she asks casually, “Would you like to accompany me to the bathroom again once we’re in the air?”

The memory floods into my mind—the way she touched me, made me come apart in the clouds while the world spread out below us like a map of all the places I’d never see. The way my body responded to her…

I keep my voice icy despite the fire burning beneath my skin. “I’d prefer some sleep, if you can restrain your libido for a few hours.”

Eva just laughs. She slides a silk eye mask over her face with theatrical flair, settling back in her seat like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Please yourself,” she murmurs, and her mouth curves into that cat-that-got-the-cream smile that makes me want to slap her.

Or kiss her.

I hate myself for that. Hate that even now, even knowing what she is and what she’s capable of, my body still responds to her like she’s some kind of drug I can’t kick.

I stare out the window as the plane lifts off, even though it scares me, watching the lights of Vegas fall away beneath us like jewels sinking into a dark sea. The city gets smaller and smaller until it’s just a faint glow in the black, and then even that disappears.

My stomach twists with dread. I’m going back. Walking back into her world. Her castle. Her rules.

The memory of Eva’s hands on me—inside me—at the hospital flashes through my mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she touched me like she owned me already, made me respond despite my anger and hurt. The way I’d let her, even knowing it was another kind of surrender.

I squeeze my eyes shut, furious at myself for the desire that flares in me at the memory. This is exactly what she wants—for me to remember how good it felt, despite everything else being wrong.

But I’m not the same naive girl she bought at auction just a few weeks ago. I’m not the same woman who let herself believe that Eva Novak could care for someone more than she cares about herself.

No. Now I understand that women like Eva don’t change. They just get more twisted and better at hiding their true nature.

The plane climbs higher, slicing through clouds that look like silver cotton in the moonlight. Below us, the world is dark and vast. I glance over at Eva, still reclined in her seat with that silk mask covering her eyes. She looks peaceful, almost innocent in sleep.

Maybe Eva’s not the same woman she was a few weeks ago either, I think darkly. Maybe she’s worse now. Maybe losing her father broke something in her that was already hanging by a thread.

Last time I escaped, but not unscathed.

This time I might not escape at all.