Page 37 of Sinful Games

She was fucking right.

Who the hell was I to judge her when my own life was a goddamn cesspool of darkness, sins, and evil? But I couldn’t resist firing a shot at her, aiming straight for her ego and hitting the mark.

I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t need to guess, sweetheart. Just looking at your Papa tells me all I need to know.”

Without warning, she shoved her plate aside with a harsh scrape, her ponytail swinging as she leapt to her feet. The little devil on her shoulder seemed to flip me off, matching the fury in her eyes. She yanked on her coat and stormed toward the door.

Fuck! I don’t know why I fucking said that.

I rushed after her, my breath searing her neck as I caught up just as her fingers touched the doorknob. My hand wrapped around hers, yanking her back. I spun her around and pressed her against the door, her breath escaping in a soft gasp. I pinned her hands above her head, my grip firm and unrelenting.

Anger flushed her neck and cheeks as she tried to fight me off, but I stayed calm, pressing myself closer, her chest touching me and tightening my hold on her wrists.

“Let me go.”

Her heartbeat thudded rapidly against the delicate skin of her wrists, and it struck me how vulnerable she was pressed against me—so light, I could shatter her with a single touch. The thought tightened in my throat, and the image of her lifeless form on the floor was disturbingly vivid.

“Nyet.”

She gritted her teeth. “Let me go, Romaniev.”

“Caia—”

A flash of raw hatred sparked in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

I held her gaze, my hands gently gliding down her arms. “I’m glad you did.”

Her mouth parted slightly as her arms fell to her sides, my hands sliding from her shoulders, tracing her waist before settling on her hips. “Stop insulting me.”

“I’m not insulting you. I’m just furious that Mankiev is your father.”

That bastard didn’t deserve a daughter as beautiful and fiery as her.

“Why? You don’t even know him that well,” she protested softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I traced a finger gently along her jawline, leaning in until our faces were inches apart. “I know enough.”

“Stop talking about him,” she breathed out, her warm breath mingling with mine.

“Then come finish your dinner.”

She shut her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll get you home later.”

“No, now,” she breathed urgently.

I took her hand and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the top of it. “I promise to be nice,” I murmured, letting my lips brush her skin.

She scoffed. “You’re such an asshole, Romaniev.”

“I know,” I replied with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t trust you.”

“Wise choice.”

“I feel a bit dizzy,” she admitted, closing her eyes and resting her head back against the door. “You better not have poisoned me.”

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