Page 21 of Her Cruel Empire
“My father once won control of a trade port with this single hand of poker,” I tell her as she looks at the cards displayed in a glass box. “The losing family’s patriarch put a gun to his head rather than honor the debt.”
Robin’s eyes widen. “That’s awful.”
“That’s business. Honor your debts, or face the consequences.” I wait a beat before adding, “We took the port anyway, of course.”
“Your father,” she says, and I stiffen instinctively. I shouldn’t have mentioned him. “Where?—”
I cut her off neatly. “My father is dead. He was shot in Paris some years ago. Killed in a hit.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says, because of course she does.
“It’s not your place to be sorry. You didn’t know him. Nor do you know me.”
“I don’t know youyet,” she corrects me gently. “And I’m sorry, all the same. My mother died a few years ago, so I?—”
“My mother died giving birth to me. So I win the Dead Parent competition, unless your father is dead, too.”
She doesn’t flinch at my acerbic tone. She just studies me for a moment with those big blue eyes and then gives a slightly bitter smile. “My dad isn’t dead, just a deadbeat. Ran out on his wife and kids a long time ago. So yeah. I guess youdowin.”
I let that hollow victory hang between as I guide her back to the Great Hall. The fire crackles in the massive stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across walls that have seen celebrations and executions, negotiations and seductions. Tonight, it will be the scene of Robin’s initiation into my world.
The huge window overlooks the lake, and the storm has died down now, allowing the moon to peek out here and there behind scudding clouds. The black water of the lake that gave the castle its name stretches toward the forest beyond. Robin moves to the window, studying the view.
“It’s beautiful,” she says softly. “Kind of scary, but beautiful.” And she glances over her shoulder, clearly adding a mental,Like you.
I settle into my usual armchair. “Beauty and terror often go hand in hand.”
At last the question comes out. “Whoareyou?” she asks.
“I told you. I am Eva Novak. I am the head of my family’s business. We are an ancient family, as you have seen.”
“Right. Andwhereare we?”
“We are at Castle Blacklake. Of course, that’s an English translation. But it’s close enough.”
“But which country are we in?”
I give a lazy shrug. “Countries, nations, borders…these are trivialities that change with the whim of politics. The villagers below simply call themselves ‘the people of the black lake.’ And this is the castle of the black lake. Geographically, we are nestled into the foot of the Carpathian mountain range.” I watch her closely without seeming to and, as I expected, her face stays blank. “Simply put, little bird, you are inmyworld now. You don’t need to worry about anything else. And all you are required to do is what I tell you. Can you do that?”
“I…yes?” She nervously turns back to the view, though I can tell she’s watching my reflection in the dark window.
“Robin.”
“Yes?” She turns back, blue eyes already darkening with something that makes my pulse quicken. She knows. Somehow, she already knows what’s coming.
“Take off your clothes.”
Even from across the room I can hear her breath catching, and her hands instinctively move to wrap around her own waist. But she doesn’t flee. Doesn’t protest. Instead, she stands there, trembling like a deer that’s caught the scent of a predator.
“Right here?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Right here.” I take a slow sip of wine, savoring both the vintage and the moment. “Come over by the fire. I want to see you properly, and you will be warmer.”
She walks over with more resolve than I expected. She’s nervous, yes, but not paralyzed by it. And as her fingers play with her hem, I can tell she’s just hesitant. It’s not for erotic effect.
And yet, it’s having averyerotic effect on me.
When was the last time someone undressed for me without worrying about angles and poses? When was the last time someone looked at me through their lashes with genuine anticipation instead of performed submission?
