Page 46 of Devious Secrets

“Did you have dinner yet?” sshe counters his question. “I think we should have a late dinner. Maybe Cornelia left something in the kitchen we can warm up.”

Alexander puts his hand up to stop her.

“We ate. Go find yourself some food. I need to deal with something.”

“It’s me. I’m the something.” I lift my hand a little and Elana grins.

Alexander makes a low sound in his chest that gets Elana’s attention.

“I’m going.” She rolls her eyes at him, then points two fingers at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” Alexander takes a step between us, blocking her from my view. “We’ll see how the next hour goes.”

I’m not sure what comes over me, but I pinch his back after he makes that statement.

His body locks up the moment I do it, and I jerk back. What the hell did I do?

“Good night, Elana,” he says with such finality, my throat dries. She doesn’t say another word. I can only hear her soft steps as she heads away from us.

There’s no possibility of being saved now.

He’s going to kill me.

As he turns around to face me, his icy stare hits me, and I retreat a step.

“Did you just pinch me?” He tilts his head a little, which only exasperates the severity of his frown.

“I did.” Showing him fear will only work against me.

He frowns for a moment and shakes his head.

“My sister’s already being a bad influence on you.” He pulls a set of keys from his pants pocket and unlocks the door, pushing it open. “After you.”

I step inside, trying to put as much space between us as possible, as if he’s going to snatch me up any second. Which is ridiculous because he’s already holding me prisoner in his enormous home.

The door shuts behind me and he walks around me to his desk.

Like every other room in this place, his office is immaculate and perfectly designed to suit him. All the woodworking is dark mahogany with dark-blue hues in the rugs and drapery coverings. The dark leather couches face each other with a glass-topped table between them.

A silver-plated skull sits in the center of the table. It’s been fitted onto a platform and transformed into a vase. Bloodred roses spring from the scalp.

What an odd item to have as a centerpiece.

“Is that… real?” I point to the makeshift vase.

He follows my finger. “Yes.”

My stomach falls an inch with his answer.

“It’s a real skull? It belonged to someone and now you use it to hold flowers?”

“It belonged to a man who betrayed my father,” he says casually. That bombshell just hangs between us.

“Are you serious?” I need to double my efforts to get away from this man.

Maybe he’s just messing with me, to make sure I understand how serious he is. He wants me to fear crossing him. That’s all.

“I am.” He walks to the flowers and gently runs his hands over the tops. “My father brought this with him when he immigrated here from Russia. He had it preserved and designed it into a vase.”

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