Page 16 of Her Cruel Empire
“Ourhome,” she corrects, her voice low, possessive, final. “For the next thirty days.”
The way she says it sends a shiver down my spine. I’m trapped in a car with a woman who just bought me at auction, heading to some unknown destination with no passport and no way home except through her.
I think…I think I might be screwed.
But the worst part?
Some dark, treacherous part of me is curious to see what happens next.
Chapter 6
Robin
Ifollow the giant—his name is Leon, Eva told me—up the metal stairs into the private jet and am met with the blank eyes of a cluster of men in dark suits already seated in the forward cabin. There are at least six of them, all broad-shouldered, all silent, all dangerous.
“Keep going,” Eva’s voice behind me says, and I walk obediently through into the next section. A heavy curtain separates their section from ours, and for a while I can hear them through the thin barrier. They were speaking in what sounded like Russian to my untrained ear, their voices a low rumble. Occasionally one of them laughs—harsh, unfunny sounds that make me flinch. I catch fragments of other languages too, but not anything I recognize, though once or twice I identify some rapid-fire Italian.
Eva acts like they don’t exist. She’s settled across from me, completely absorbed in her phone, making calls, tapping out texts.
I’m so terrified I could die. But somehow, as soon as Eva Novak’s private jet takes off, I pass out right there in my seat.
I come to hours later in what feels like a gilded cage floating through the clouds. I stretch out my stiff neck and see Eva still conducting her business calls like she owns the world—which, judging by the deference in every voice that crackles through her phone, she might.
She hasn’t spoken to me once since takeoff. Not once.
I study her profile as she fires off instructions in what sounds like three different languages. One is French, and another is Russian, I’m pretty sure. I take in the sensual line of her jaw that tightens when she spits out words in yet a new language. I watch the way her amber eyes narrow when someone displeases her. Those clouds of dark hair that swallow the cabin lights like a black hole…
What have I done?
The question pounds through me. I sold myself to save my family, but watching Eva—really watching her—I’m starting to understand the magnitude of my mistake.
This isn’t some eccentric rich woman looking for companionship. This is a predator who bought herself a plaything. She’s a lot better looking than those men at the auction, and a lot wealthier, judging by the coin she dropped on me, but she’s not much different from them at heart.
And those men in the front of the plane? They’re her soldiers. Her personal army, men she can command and control with the flick of a finger.
Despite my fear, part of me is desperate to earn her attention.
“We’re beginning our descent,” the pilot announces, and Eva finally glances my way.
“You look green.” Her accent—not quite English, but not French or Russian, either—makes even casual observations sound like a judgment. “Don’t vomit on my upholstery.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, gripping the armrest as we bank sharply left.
She returns to her phone without another word.
We arrive at what I assume is another private airfield, because it looks like something from a spy movie—several sleek hangars and more men in dark suits who appear from nowhere to handle Eva’s luggage. I take off my heels as a precaution before I make my way down the stairs on shaking legs, squinting in what seems to be late afternoon sun.
It was dark when we left Vegas. I have no idea how long I was sleeping on the plane.
Wherearewe?
“But what about customs?” I ask weakly as Eva beckons me toward a waiting car. “My passport?—”
She laughs. “Customs? Darling, you don’t officially exist. Enjoy the freedom. In you get.” She gestures at the car, and the driver steps forward to open the door for me.
The limo—because of course it’s another limo—is armor-plated and tinted so dark I’m surprised I can see out when I climb inside. Leon sits in the front again, but Eva slides in right beside me, her thigh brushing mine. I catch her scent: something expensive and heady.
It’s very…her.
