Page 46 of Her Cruel Empire
“Do you...” Robin hesitates, then pushes forward. “Do you often pay for women’s company?”
Blunt question. I appreciate that.
“Yes.” I don’t soften it. “It’s the only safe way.”
Her face tightens almost imperceptibly.
“I don’t pretend it’s romance, Robin. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I pay. I enjoy. I set them free.” I lean back in my chair, studying her reaction. “Falling for someone—anyone—would only put them in danger. Keeping it transactional is muchsafer.” I let my gaze travel over her slowly, deliberately. “Just as I will return you safely to your nest when we’re done.”
But even as I say the words, I’m not sure I believe them anymore. Robin has gotten under my skin in ways I don’t understand, don’t like, and can’t seem to stop.
I need to flip this script. Take back control.
“What about you?” I ask, setting down my teacup. “Why exactly did you sell yourself at that auction?”
Robin goes still. For a moment, I think she won’t answer. Then slowly, quietly, she begins to talk.
About how her mother’s death meant she became the sole carer for her siblings. About the crushing debt. About her sister’s medical bills and losing her medical insurance when she lost one of her jobs. About falling further behind in the rent every month. About watching her baby sister get sicker while she’s powerless to help.
About sacrifice. Real sacrifice. The kind of bone-deep love that makes you put yourself on an auction block for strangers to bid on.
She did it forlove.
Not ego, not power, not even survival. Not really. She did it for love.
That kind of sacrifice is rare in my world. It’s pure. Untainted by agenda or ambition. “Robin.” My voice is softer than I intended. She looks up, those blue eyes dark with the memories of her troubles. “I think it’s admirable. What you did.”
She flushes. “I don’t know about that. I lied to my family—you heard me in the car, right after the auction, talking to my brother. I told him whatever he needed to hear to agree to it.”
“You lied because you love them. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She shrugs and looks away. “You must miss them very much.”
I haven’t thought much about her life before me.
She just nods. “Are you sure he’ll never wake up?” she asks after a moment. “Your father?”
I have to take a breath before I respond. I’m not used to talking so openly about him. My father. Zoltan Novak, the Beast of the Blacklake, as they called him. It’s so unnatural to see him lying there so still. “The doctors say no,” I tell her at last. “But I’ve been researching every cutting-edge treatment. Investing in biotech startups. Consulting with specialists in Switzerland, Japan, America. Programs so classified they don’t officially exist. But if he won’t wake, then all I have left is my vengeance on the person who did this to him.”
Robin’s compassionate expression is almost unbearable, and I have to clench my hands into fists in my lap as I resist the urge to say something I’ll regret.
“I go back,” I continue carefully, “every year. I retrace his footsteps. To every city where he had deals. Chasing leads. Turning over rocks. One day, someone will talk. Someone will slip up.”
“And then?”
“Then I’ll make them regret they were ever born.” Something dark and broken bleeds into my voice then as I hear myselfadmitting, “But even when I find them, even when I make them scream and beg for death…he’ll still be lost to me. My father is gone forever. I’ll never see him smile at me again. That’s what I miss the most. His smile—it made everything better…”
Some things can’t be fixed, not even with all my power and money.
Robin reaches out like she wants to touch me, then thinks better of it. “He’ll smile at you again,” she says with quiet conviction. “I know he will.”
The words nearly undo me. I cover the crack in my armor with a scoff. “Wishful thinking helps nothing, little bird.” But inside, something eases in my chest. I’ve been so accustomed to the ache that I only notice it as it lessens.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Robin asks. “To support you, while I’m here?”
It’s a genuine question. Offered without condition or expectation of reward. When was the last time someone wanted to help me without getting something in return?
My vulnerability flickers into something sharp again. Something familiar. Safe.
“Yes.” I let my voice drop to that commanding tone that makes her breath catch. “You can do what I’m paying you for.”
