Page 66 of Sinful Games

His laughter was dark and merciless. “Oh, but you will. Alexsei made this deal, and when the Silas men decide they want something, they don’t just ask for it—they take it, no matter how unfair it seems.”

Chapter

Twenty

“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.”

?Oscar Wilde

Alexsei

I tossed the bag onto Mankiev’s table, and without missing a beat, he started counting the cash inside. 500k, to be fucking exact.

"Perfect," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You’ll see, my daughter will know how to keep youhappy."

I didn’t want to dwell on what he meant, because if I did, I’d probably end up putting a bullet in his head. So, I just focused on signing our wedding contract.

After watching Francesco Ricci’s fingers linger on her face and seeing the way she smiled at him, a faint blush spreadingacross her skin, I felt a fierce pang of jealousy—something I’d never experienced with any woman before.

Then, after spending the night at her place, watching her sleep with her face pressed against my chest, her warm breath on my skin, and her leg tangled with mine, I knew I had to claim her.

I wanted to make sure no one else even thought about having her.

So, I snapped a simple picture, knowing it’d set everything ablaze but also satisfy my damn desires. I was hell-bent on having her in my bed, and if marriage was the only damn way, then fine. I needed a wife anyway.

"Let’s grab dinner tonight," Mankiev grunted, raising his vodka. "I’ll make sure Caia’s there to hear the good news."

I took a drag of my cigar. "Perfect."

I was sure Caia would put up a fight, maybe even try to run, but I’d been tailing her for days.

My days were spent ensuring her safety but also catching glimpses of her when she wasn’t looking. She moved through the streets with her head down, lost in the rhythm of her music, trying to blend into the background.

The girl I met a few weeks ago—high heels, feline eyes, confident red lips—felt like a completely different person from the one engaged in mundane tasks. It was as if Caia embodied two entirely different personas in one. And fuck, that turned me on even more.

Mankiev grinned, a sinister glint in his eyes. "The wedding’s happening tonight here, at the Manor. That way, Caia can leave with you right away."

I nodded, blowing out a puff of cigar smoke. "Works for me. The sooner, the better."

Mankiev chuckled, taking a sip of his vodka before rising from his seat. "Just make sure my daughter knows who’s incharge. If she steps out of line, you set her straight; otherwise, she can be a pain in the ass."

I clenched my fists, struggling to keep from punching his ugly face. In a twisted way, I was almost relieved that Caia was now mine. I’d never let him near her again. This bastard didn’t deserve to be her father or have any part in her life.

Mankiev must’ve sensed my irritation because he cleared his throat and quickly left the room.

I couldn’t help but wonder what Caia was up to. Maybe she was out there, snapping pictures of unsuspecting strangers or reading heartwarming stories to her grandma, blissfully unaware that her life had taken a one-way trip to my arms.

She’d probably call it hell, but the girl clearly had some PTSD, so I’m cutting her some slack.

"I can’t believe you’re still going through with it.” Volk strolled over, casually pouring himself a glass of vodka, his hands still stained with blood.

"Why not?" I shot back with a smirk.

He shrugged. "Never thought you were the marrying type. Honestly, why bother? Let’s ditch the whole thing. We could hit the town, meet up with Marina and her crazy cousins."

"Nah. I need a beauty nap. I’m getting engaged tonight, in case you forgot."

Volk scoffed. "Right. Sweet dreams of your happily ever after. As if a nap’s gonna fix that ugly mug of yours."

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