Page 22 of Devil's Embrace
Luca stood in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob.His expression remained perfectly neutral as he surveyed the scene—me behind his desk, his private files open, the recorder in my hand.He wore dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms covered in intricate tattoos I hadn’t noticed before.
Our eyes met across the room.I couldn't read his thoughts, couldn't tell if he was angry or amused or something else entirely.All I knew was that I was caught, cornered like prey, with nowhere to run.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft click that sounded like a death sentence.
Chapter Eight
Emory
Neither of us moved.The silence in the room felt thick enough to touch, broken only by the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall.I still held the recorder, my fingers clenched around it so tightly my knuckles had gone white.Part of me wanted to throw it at him, to run, to scream—but what good would that do?I was trapped, caught red-handed in his private domain.And yet, he didn't look angry.That unsettled me more than rage would have.
Luca closed the door behind him with a soft click, his movements unhurried and deliberate.He crossed the room toward me, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet.I backed up until my legs hit his chair, with nowhere left to retreat.
"Curious about the monster who holds you captive?"There was no anger in his voice, just a strange resignation that caught me off guard.
I didn't answer.Couldn't.My throat had closed up with fear.
He reached for the recorder, and I released it without resistance.His fingers brushed against mine during the exchange, warm and surprisingly gentle.The brief contact sent an unwelcome shiver up my arm.
"I assume you listened to it."He set the device on his desk and moved to the sideboard where crystal decanters of various liquors caught the light.
I found my voice at last."Yes."
"And?"He poured amber liquid into a fresh glass, the ice cubes clinking musically.
"And what?"My voice came out stronger than I expected."You want me to comment on your murder diary?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he turned to face me."An accurate description."He gestured with his glass toward the folders spread across his desk."You've been thorough."
"Not by choice.I was looking for something to help us escape."
"I know."He didn't seem bothered by my admission."Would you like a drink?"He held up the decanter, tilting it slightly in question.
I stared at him, thrown by the casual offer.Was this a test?A trap?But my mouth was dry with fear, and something told me accepting might keep him talking.Information was power, and I needed every advantage I could get.
"Yes.”
He poured a second glass, crossing the room to hand it to me.I took it carefully, avoiding touching his fingers this time.The whiskey burned going down, but the warmth that spread through my chest gave me a false sense of courage.
"So now you know."He gestured to the folders."About your life on paper, and a small piece of mine."
"The fire.Your parents."
His expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes—a darkness passing like a shadow."Yes.I was seven.Old enough to understand death, not old enough to understand betrayal."
"What happened?"The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Luca moved to stand by the window, looking out at the darkness beyond though the drapes were mostly closed."My uncle Mateo wanted control of the family business.My father stood in his way."He took a sip of his drink."The official report called it an electrical fire.I called it what it was—murder."
I watched him carefully, trying to reconcile this man with the emotionless killer I'd seen in the alley, with the seven-year-old boy in those photographs."He killed your parents and took you in?"
"Ironic, isn't it?"Luca turned back to face me."The man who orphaned me raised me.Shaped me.Molded me into what he needed—the family enforcer.The Devil, they call me."His voice held no pride in the title, just a cold acceptance.
"Why are you telling me this?"I felt confused by his openness.
"Because you asked."He moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head up to maintain eye contact."And because we're not so different, you and I."
I stiffened at the comparison."I don't see how."
