Page 18 of Her Cruel Empire
Just for a minute.
Just to gather my strength.
I dream of her—amber eyes glowing in the firelight, her mouth cruel and tender, her hands reaching for me. In my dream, Eva touches my face with fingers that burn like brands, whispers words in languages I don’t understand, but somehow know mean danger.
I startle awake to darkness and the sound of rain against the windows.
A clock somewhere in the hallway outside chimes—nine times.
Shit. I slept through dinner.
But as I sit up, blinking in the firelight, I realize something else. The smell of food. Rich, savory, making my stomach clench with hunger.
A tray sits on the table by the window—roasted meat, vegetables in butter, bread that’s still warm. And wine. A whole bottle of wine that looks very expensive.
There’s a note beside the tray, written in Eva’s bold handwriting:
You missed dinner. Don’t make a habit of disappointing me.
– E
I should be afraid. I am. But I also find myself smiling. Because even with the little I know about the woman who bought me, I’m sure she would simply have woken me if she really expected me at dinner.
She saw I was exhausted. She let me sleep, and made sure I was still fed. And the idea that she was thinking of me at all makes me warmer inside.
Maybe Eva Novak isn’tjusta beautiful billionaire predator.
Maybe things will be better than I thought. They can’t beworse. I expected pain and misery, not…this. Whatever this is.
I eat slowly, savoring the flavors even as I struggle to identify them, watching the rain streak down the windows. A half glass of wine makes me warm and drowsy, but I force myself to stay alert. To think.
When I’m done, I explore. The bathroom is made up of marble and gold, with a tub deep enough to swim in and bronze-tinted mirrors that must be very kind to me, because I know I’m a mess but I look decent in their reflections. The towels are softer than clouds. The soaps smell like fresh garden flowers.
I go back into the main bedroom to explore, and then I open the door to the walk-in closet.
It’s full. Completely full. Dresses in silk and velvet, shoes in every style imaginable, and in drawer after drawer, lingerie that makes me flush just looking at it.
But before I can explore further, there’s a knock at the bedroom door. “Come in,” I call, expecting Mrs. Kovacs.
But it’s Eva who enters, and the sight of her steals my breath all over again.
She’s changed into something that manages to be both relaxed and devastating at the same time: a dark red wrap made for lounging in, but that clings in all the right places, and her hair is swept up to show the elegant line of her neck.
Her amber eyes travel from my bare feet, over my auction dress, to my face, all with an intensity that makes me shiver.
“I wanted to make sure you had settled in,” she says at last.
“I’m sorry I missed dinner. I was more tired than I realized.”
“Jet lag.” She moves closer, circling me. “It affects everyone differently.”
She stops in front of me, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Close enough to smell that dangerous perfume.
She almost reaches for me, fingers twitching—then pulls back.
“Do you have any questions about your…situation?” she asks.
My situation. Such a delicate way to put it.
