Page 34 of The Devil's Dilemma

Had there been so many stairs? By the time we reached the top, I was panting.

Dante, on the other hand, hadn’t broken a sweat.

I eyed the door. How far could I get before someone took me down? I wagered far enough, and while Dante spoke to one of his security men, I made a dash for it.

As if the door heard my prayers, it slid open.

I ran past the delivery man who had given me an escape path, breaking away from the man who would keep me captive.

“Stop right there,” a voice shouted. Did they really think I would?

I made it as far as the car park, but huge arms wrapped around my body, and I was unceremoniously tackled to the ground, the little air I had in my lungs forced from my body.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” I cursed at the weight pinning me to the ground.

A pair of Doc Martens appeared in my line of sight. I didn’t need to look up to see who was standing before me.

“Now, why did you do that? I thought I was being nice, but now you’ve made me mad.”

The heavy soles pressed my fingers into the concrete, cracking the knuckles. I shut my eyes and winced at the pain shooting through them.

I made no sound, not wishing to give him the satisfaction.

“Get him up. Bring him to my suite.”

The feet stepped away, and I was pulled to my feet.

“Move.” It had to be Conrad. “Now you’ve done it.” He frogmarched me back into the casino, my feet barely grazing the ground.

“Wouldn’t you have tried to run?” I asked, still struggling to get my breath. Goddammit, my fingers hurt.

“All you had to do was play along, do as he said. Now you’ve annoyed him. You really shouldn’t have done that.”

What was he going to do? He wasn’t some big-time gangster. He was a fucking casino owner. A hot one at that, but that was beside the point.

He was a nobody. Except even as I said the words, I didn’t believe them. The things I’d seen him do.

How had he killed Joel with a click of his fingers? How had his horns grown and his eyes flashed?

No way was he the devil. That was stupid. The devil didn’t exist. But maybe, just maybe, there was something more to him. Deep down, I knew he was something else and why my body reacted to him when he was near. After all he’d done, I couldn’t explain that.

We stopped in front of a lift, and the doors opened. Conrad pushed me inside and pressed a button, all the while keeping a hold of me. Not that I could go anywhere.

A minute later, the lift opened into a lobby, several doors leading off it. Conrad walked me down to a set of double doors, rapped on it, and opened them both.

Wow. A wall of windows overlooked the city. I’d never seen it from this angle, and although parts of it were undesirable, from here, it looked amazing.

Dante lounged on a black leather sofa. If Grandpa were here, he’d be telling him to take his boots off the furniture.

But he wasn’t. All I’d been trying to do was get back to him and away from this place.

Away from Dante and the uncertainty I felt when I was around him.

“Leave us,” he commanded.

Conrad let me go, leaving me standing in the centre of the room, unsure what to say or do.

“I should kill you, you know. No one disobeys or disrespects me, and you have done both in the last twelve hours. You’ve stolen from me, you’ve cheated, you’ve argued, and now you’ve tried to run away when all I wanted to do was help you.”

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