Page 228 of Evil Hearts

“You’re a flirt, Mr. Volkov,” she said, her proclaim betraying the slightest tremor. “But I seem to find it intriguing.”

Dimitri’s lips curved into an unfathomable smile, his expression smoldering. “Ah, but the greatest mysteries are those that unfold slowly, layer by delicious layer.” His fingers trailed along the bare skin of her back, igniting a trail of delicious fire.

Amelia’s skin heated, her knees threatening to buckle beneath his seductive touch. She clung to him, desperate to maintain her composure, even as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. This man, this beautiful, dangerous man, held a power over her that defied all reason.

“Then I’ll try to be a patient student…if you’ll be my teacher.”

Dimitri’s chuckle was a low, rumbling sound that reverberated through her very core. “A most tempting proposition.” His fingers traced the curve of her jaw, his thumb grazing her parted lips. “But be warned—some lessons are not easily unlearned.”

She laughed, the sound bright and carefree in the night air. She felt free. For tonight, she would dance with this beautiful, mysterious man beneath a canopy of stars.

Then the garden’s tranquility shattered. Henry, the distinguished butler, approached with a brisk gait that wrinkled his immaculately pressed suit. The light shone on his salt-and-pepper hair, giving him an ethereal halo. His hazel eyes held a hint of urgency as he neared.

“Excuse me, Master Dimitri,” Henry said, his tone a blend of deference and insistence. “The ball is still ongoing, and propriety dictates your presence inside…before sunrise.”

Amelia felt a pang of disappointment. She took in Henry’s stern expression, softened by concern, and knew that this was more than just a call to social etiquette.

“Of course, Henry. Thank you,” Dimitri replied, his tone polite yet laced with reluctance.

Dimitri led her back toward the mansion, and she glanced over her shoulder at the secluded spot where they had danced, where she had felt something awaken within her—a wild, untamed yearning.

Once inside, the noise of the ballroom was jarring. Amelia felt the loss of Dimitri’s nearness even before he excused himself with a courteous nod and disappeared into the crowd.

“Miss Lancaster? Are you all right?” Henry said, his gaze scrutinizing.

“Yes. Thank you, Henry,” she said with a faint smile, her thoughts still chasing the enigma that was Dimitri Volkov. Her heart hammered with the promise of seeing him again, the desire for more than just a waltz under in a secluded garden.

She felt a newfound rebellion rise within her, as she watched the door swing shut through which Dimitri had vanished, wondering when their paths might cross again.

Chapter Two

Amelia stood beforethe imposing gates of Shadowfield Manor, her heart like a little fluttering bird in her chest. She hesitated for a moment, taking in the sight of the grand Gothic mansion that loomed against the overcast sky. Then, with a determined breath, she walked up to the heavy wooden door and knocked.

The door creaked open, revealing Henry’s composed figure. “Miss Lancaster,” he greeted with a respectful nod, his lined face reflecting years of quiet wisdom. “How can I help you?”

“I, um, wanted to see Mr. Volkov. Is he at home today?”

“Yes, miss. Please, do come in.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Amelia stepped into the grand foyer.

The interior was just as she remembered—opulent and lavish. Henry led her through the maze of corridors, past portraits whose painted eyes seemed to follow her every move, until they reached the library.

The manor felt like a relic from another time, each corner murmuring secrets she longed to uncover. She wondered what it must be like for Dimitri to live among such echoes of the past—did it comfort him or haunt him? Her own life seemed so small in comparison, confined by societal expectations and familial duty.

“Master Dimitri is inside,” Henry said, opening the large mahogany doors.

“Much obliged.” Amelia entered the cavernous room, her breath catching at the sight of Dimitri seated by the fireplace, engrossed in a thick, leather-bound book.

The towering bookshelves lined with dusty tomes gave the space an almost sacred feel. The faint light from the chandelier overhead created a golden hue over everything, including Dimitri.

He looked up, and grinned. Those sexy blue eyes, like sapphires set against the shadows, drew her in. His dark hair was slicked back, and he wore a tailored charcoal suit that clung perfectly to his athletic frame. Around his neck hung a delicate silver locket, adorned with intricate symbols. It glinted in the firelight.

“Miss Lancaster, what a pleasant surprise.” Dimitri sat up, closing his book and rising to greet her. His timbre was smooth and deep.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Volkov.” Her expression betrayed the flutter of excitement she felt. Moving farther into the vast room, she couldn’t help noticing the way his presence filled the room, an aura of mystery that made him utterly captivating.

What lay beneath his composed exterior? Did he ever tire of this eternal existence? And why did she feel this perplexing attraction toward him?

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