Page 52 of Devious Madness

“It won’t matter. It’s gone beyond that now.” Rurikpauses. “You don’t owe that money. It wasn’t your deal with him, it was Nico’s.”

“I know.” I scratch at my neck, where a thin scab has formed over where the crazy man cut me.

The money may not be my debt, but I owe Nico a much larger debt than cash. His life.

Rurik pulls the car into an underground garage. Luxury cars fill the spaces, all lined up like little elite soldiers. He parks in the widest spot near the elevators.

“You get a special spot?” I tease, because it’s gotten too tense and it makes me uncomfortable.

A whole war has erupted because of what I did. Because of my stupidity. Because I let my craving to be loved cloud my thinking.

“I own the building.” He turns off the ignition and pops his door open, cutting off any further attempt to lighten the air between us.

The ride up the elevator isn’t any more pleasant. He stands directly beside me, his arm brushing against mine as the metal box carries us up to the tippy top of the fifty-floor building.

Of course he owns the building, and of course he lives in the penthouse.

As soon as the elevator doors open, lights flicker on in the foyer and then continue to turn on throughout the first floor. Stepping out onto the dark marble with subtle gold veining, I’m blown away at the simplicity and luxury of the place. Growing up in the Midwest and going between the twohouses of divorced parents, this sort of elegance was never on my radar.

There’s a strong masculine feel to the place. Along one wall of the wide foyer sits a black marble-topped console with a leather chair flanking each end. A chandelier with a dark metal frame and smoked glass panels casts a soft glow into the entranceway.

Rurik takes a call as soon as we’re inside, and he stalks off to the left. I watch from where I stand, unsure what to do next. Also, I’m slightly afraid if I move that I might break something. And I can’t afford to replace even one tile of the floor, let alone the black glass vase sitting on the console table with gold trimming.

After a few more minutes pass, I finally decide it’s probably safe to follow him. I find him in the kitchen, pulling out a casserole dish from the oven.

Lasagna. My stomach immediately growls as the aroma of the tomato sauce and melty cheese hits my nostrils.

Rurik looks up from the counter at the noise and frowns.

“When you get hungry, say something,” he grumbles.

His phone sits on the countertop beside two plates.

“I wasn’t until I smelled that. Do you have some sort of robotic oven that can cook?” I walk around the kitchen island, surveying all the top of the line appliances.

“No. I have a staff.” He grabs a knife and spatula from a drawer.

“Are they here with us now?” I look around, expecting to find an army of Lurches hiding in the shadows.

“No. Itold them to go.”

“When?”

He eyes me with a smirk. “When you were napping in the car. I called ahead and gave my instructions.”

Waving the knife over the lasagna he’s just cut into he says, “As you can see, they know how to listen.”

I climb up onto a kitchen bar stool on the other side of the island as he slides my plate toward me.

“Well, if you put me on payroll, maybe I’ll start obeying you, too.” I pick up the fork he lays beside the plate and dig in.

“You’ll have an allowance?—”

“Excuse me?” I cut him off mid-bite. “An allowance? What am I, ten?”

He arches a brow. “You behave that way sometimes.”

It’s a pointed comment about talking with food in my mouth, so I swallow before I continue.

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