Page 96 of Sinful Games

He laughed, exhaling smoke. “Touché.”

I scanned the room, half-expecting to see Volk skulking in a corner. He didn’t usually show up to these things, but with him, you never knew.

“Can’t believe Mankiev has such a pretty daughter,” Sadiek sneered. “Poor thing must’ve suffered with him, and now... with you.”

Fucking bastard.

Sadiek always played the hero, pretending he wanted to save people, but he was just a dirty cop like the rest. Money, power, women—it was all he ever wanted.

Everything was just for show, like Caia had said.

My smart little witch.

Where the hell was she? She should’ve been back by now.

“Maybe I’m the one who saved her from hell,” I muttered, not giving a fuck about his opinion.

Sadiek scoffed, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Or maybe you dragged her deeper into it.”

I took a step closer, towering over him. "I'm nothing like Mankiev. And I sure as hell ain't anything like you, Sadiek."

Without waiting for his response, I stalked off, following the path Caia had taken through the haze of cigar smoke, laughter, and the pretentious classical music filling the room.

Where the hell is she?

Fuck, what if she ran away? If she had, I’d lose my damn mind. I’d track her down, drag her back if it came to that, and cuff her to the bed so tight she’d never even think about leaving again. And believe me, I wasn’t fucking bluffing.

"Where the fuck are you, Caia?" I muttered, slamming another door shut, frustration bubbling inside me. This mansion was a labyrinth of fucking archives, room after room, and not a single sign of her.

I’ve scoured every floor—each one either dead empty or packed with people too busy snorting coke, screwing, or spilling useless gossip.

Another goddamn useless room, this time with a jungle theme so revolting it mademe grimace.

I found myself pacing to a massive ceiling window, pressing my palms hard against the glass. Outside, the neatly trimmed garden maze with its frozen fountain and stone bench caught my eye. And there, like a fucking dream, was Caia, sitting hunched over, her face buried in her hands.

Finally.

Without a second thought, I bolted from the room, practically flying down the stairs and weaving through the ballroom toward the back door. Just as my hand was about to grasp the handle, nails—long, sharp, and irritatingly familiar—latched onto my suit.

"Alexsei, darling, where’s Volk? I was told he’d be here tonight, and you know I didn’t travel all the way from Nura to Moscow just to be ignored!"

Rolling my eyes, I peeled her hand off my suit. "Marina, find a fucking hobby. You’re obsessed with a guy who’s made it clear he doesn't give a shit about you."

She crossed her arms, her sheer white dress doing little to cover her as she jutted out her chin. "Is he here or not?"

"I don’t know. Now move, I’ve got somewhere to be."

"Wait! Just tell him to answer my text! Please!"

"Fine," I snapped. "Now move, my wife’s waiting for me."

"Wife?" Her eyes widened like she’d just heard the apocalypse was coming. I didn’t bother with an answer, leaving her standing there in shock.

The cold night air hit me the second I stepped outside, and I strode toward the maze. Snowflakes drifted lazily down as I entered the twisting path, relying on the moon’s faint glow to guide me. Each step through the snow-covered maze made my chest tighter.

Fuckin’ horrible snow.

I pushed deeper into the maze, winding left, then right, until I finally spotted her again. Her shimmerygold dress gleamed in the moonlight, but her body shook with sobs, her arms trembling as they held her knees. Fuck, she was crying.

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