Page 93 of Sinful Games

“Oh my God,” I breathed, my heart racing.

The man in the picture looked exactly like Alexsei, just a hell of a lot older. It was like looking at a twisted reflection of him from a bygone era.

I scanned the document, trying to make sense of the situation.

Sergey Rovanski was a patient on the third floor, a floor I rarely visit. I usually stick to floors four, five, and six.

So, I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve been in his room.

Sergey Rovanski:

57 years old. (08/07/1964)

Born in Moscow

Family?: No.

Diseases: Throat cancer.

Admitted: 09/12/ 2014

“Wait… Sergey Rovanski? That can’t be Alexsei’s father. Alexsei’s a Romaniev, not a Rovanski, Valeria.”

Valeria shot up from her chair, slamming her desk in frustration. “That’s exactly what I thought! But then I dug deeper. Sergey came to us nearly seven years ago, and his voice was already pretty weak back then,” she said, moving toward me and grabbing my shoulders with a fierce grip. “But he kept calling, barely audible, asking for an Alexsei.”

I exhaled, “But Alexsei said he had no family.”

She shrugged. “Maybe he ditched his old life, changed his name, and started over!”

Alexsei Rovanski, what other secrets are you hiding from me?

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text.

Lucifer:

Party tonight. Be ready by 8.

Me:

Sorry, who’s this?

Lucifer:

I don’t know, baby. Let’s ask your pussy, I'm suresheremembers me.

This man is so freaking inappropriate.

My cheeks turned as red as a lobster, and when I looked up, Valeria was giving me a smirk that said she knew exactly what was going on.

Me:

Leaveheralone!

Lucifer:

Nope. Your pretty pussy’s mine now.

Me:

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