Page 24 of Sinful Games

I watched as the Mankiev’s car sped away from the Manor before turning back and leaning against the window.

"Nyet, I need to check on Dve and the guys in the city. I'll be in Moscow for the next week or so."

I’d done my homework on Caia, or rather, her father had spilled all the details about her tonight, making it easy to know where and when to find her. Her mix of studying photography and working in a retirement home was unusual, to say the least.

My game had officially begun, and I was determined to make my little witch fall into my arms.

Igor may have forbidden me to fuck the girl, but he never said I couldn’t toy with her a bit, right?

"But Volk will go with you, boss," I said, nodding toward him. "I’m pretty sure Marina’s eager to see him again."

He scoffed. “I’d rather eat my own shit.”

"Coming from the guy who fucks her whenever he's bored."

Igor laughed and rose, wishing us a good night.

Volk flipped me off before standing as well, finishing his drink in one go and devouring a blini. "That little Mankiev seems to have magic fingers. I wonder how they'd feel?—"

I shot him a hard look.

"Good luck with that one. She looks like she’d rather catch the plague than fuck you," he said before leaving the room.

What’s with everyone and the fucking plague.

Chapter

Nine

“I'll die for your sins if you live for mine.”

?Jim Carroll

Caia

"You're free to choose whoever or whatever for your models, just make sure to reveal a part of yourself through your pictures," Professor Rankov explained. "And, oh, they have to be in black and white," she added with a smile, erasing the board and closing her bag.

I sighed, hands on my face, feeling the weight of the whole world on my shoulders.

"You've got a week, so let those creative juices flow!"

Usually, I love these kinds of assignments—getting out, capturing moments, and spinning stories. But the heaviness of the past few days made ithard to focus.

My father had been relentless, constantly asking why I hadn't slept with Romaniev yet.

The mere thought of it makes me sick.

I told him it’s too soon, that I’m all about building anticipation. But honestly, I’m just inventing excuses to put off the inevitable.

The conversation with Romaniev in the hallway, which happened four days ago, kept replaying in my mind. My plan seemed to be working—men do love a good chase.

The more I pulled back, the more he’d lean in.

It feels pathetic, but I couldn’t deny he had a way with words. He always knew just what to say to make me want to roll my eyes or slap him.

I grabbed my coat and hurried out of the auditorium, heading toward the bus station.

A glance at my watch told me it was 4 p.m.

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