Page 80 of Dance of Deception

I remember the bars.

The cold, damp air.

The sobbing.

The slapping sound of flesh against flesh.

I remember walking into the room and seeing my father?—

I gag.

Even now, years later, the memory wrecks me. Because that’s when I stopped being a kid and realized the demon my father really was.

A soft touch on my arm pulls me back to the present. I inhale sharply, eyes flying open to see Milena watching me, her brows furrowed, lips pressed together.

“You okay?” she asks.

I nod quickly, forcing a neutral expression. “Yeah. Just…processing.”

Milena doesn’t push it. “You want me to hang out with you here for a little bit?”

I nod gratefully. “Would you?”

“Of course!” She grins as she leans back against the pillows next to me, stretching her long legs out. “You know, you’re kind of a lightweight,” she says after a moment. “I didn’t think you’d go downthateasy.”

I let out a shaky laugh, happy for the change in subject.

My eyes start to droop again, and I lean my head to the side, resting it on her shoulder as the darkness seeps back into me.

She keeps talking to me, keeping me grounded. But her voice fades in and out, exhaustion pulling me under.

Then I hear her talking to someone in the room, but I can’t quite make out the words.

And sleep pulls me deeper.

The faint scent of leather,tangerine, and rosewood curls around me, lulling me into darkness. At some point, Milena shifts beside me. Her warmth disappears, but her comforting presence lingers in the room.

I drift again, deeper this time, until?—

Something's wrong. The air is different.

I stir, stretching lazily, expecting Milena. The second my eyes open, I jolt and my stomach plummets, my body locking up.

Milena isn’t on the edge of the bed.

Carmineis.

He sits there, completely at ease, studying me with that cold, unreadable gaze.

“You fainted,” he says.

The room is still shrouded in shadows, the heavy curtains blocking out most of the city lights outside.

I swallow hard. “I think I was just tired. I drank too much. It was nothing.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, but I can feel him assessing, analyzing, picking me apart piece by piece.

“You weren't drinking that much. And ‘nothing’ doesn’t make someone faint,” he says smoothly. “Try again.”

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