Page 100 of Destined for the Devil
My face burned like I’d been set on fire. “What the fuck is this?” I breathed out, voice shaking, the fear spreading down my legs.
Roman took a step closer to me, but his eyes studied another photo that I hadn’t seen yet. This one was of me naked, sitting on top of him with my head tilted back, clearly while we were having sex. It looked like it was taken right outside the window, the curtains of the room visible on the sides of the photo. The writing was in red pen again—that’s good pipe.
To say that I was shocked to receive this would have been the biggest understatement in the world. Afraid to move, my eyes found Roman, who meticulously studied the writing, deep in thought.
Someone had been fucking spying on us every step of the way! There was only one man who could have done it—Sergei, the unhinged fucking psycho. Before I entered Roman’s world, no one had ever threatened me, mildly or in such a blatant manner.
But then the night with Sam burst into my memory—when he almost dragged me into my own empty apartment. Fuck. You never know which man could turn out to be a fucking rapist. They didn’t need to be a lifelong criminal to engage in that vile activity.
“Let’s see if there are more of these.” Roman’s voice broke through my haze.
We found two more envelopes.
One on the couch and one on the dining room table—neither one of which we noticed when we walked toward the bedroom.
The photos became more obscene with every new discovery. There I was, stepping out of the shower into our bedroom, dripping wet and naked—all wet, all his.
And one photo…was very explicit. Roman’s face was buried in between my asscheeks, eating me outfrom behind.Oh God. Oh fuck. My ass was in the air; my chest and face pressed into the bed while Roman’s body dominated mine, even if he was licking my ass.
Fuck. This looked like full-out porn. That photo hadDaddy’s girl?written on my naked body.
"Roman, what the fuck is happening?" I plopped down into a dining chair and held the porn photo in my hands, my cheeks burning from the image. As unnerved as I was to receive this, I had to admit…we looked fucking hot together.
All the photos had been laid out on the table, and Roman stood over them with his arms crossed. Then, he said rather seriously. “Clearly, someone is trying very hard to intimidate us. Do these words mean anything to you?”
I read through them again, and it dawned on me. “A few are song lyrics.” I whipped out my phone and scrolled through my Spotify playlist—I knew I had a few of these in my favorites. Did someone hack into my Spotify?!
I clicked play on one, and Roman listened intently. The song lyrics sounded so out of place under the circumstances, but I saw Roman break out in a mischievous smile, his eyes darting to mine. "Damn, Isla. This song is fucking filthy. You listen to this?" he asked in surprise.
Cute.
"Yes.” I couldn’t hold back my smile either. “Do I look like I only listen to Taylor Swift or the Backstreet Boys? Although, I do love the Backstreet Boys," I admitted, deep in thought, but then paused the song and asked the most important question. "Are we just going to stay here? After all this?" The question sounded pitiful to my own ears.
Roman shrugged easily, as if all of this didn’t rattle him the way it affected me. "We can leave tonight if you want. Or stay on the yacht. But this is meant to intimidate us. To make us nervous.”
My jaw dropped at the way he spoke about this—so relaxed! There was no concern in his voice, no fear that someone may be hiding in a closet with a knife, waiting for us to fall asleep.
"But if we leave, they will know that their tactics worked. Andthat's the worst message we could send." Roman spoke slowly and with meaning, his eyes piercing mine and his body language authoritative.
I sat in front of him and pondered his words: that's the worst messagewecould send.
We?
Yes,we,because I was in his world now, and my actions had consequences, ones that I’d never imagined before. I linked my life with his, and that's when I stepped into this treacherous web.
"Do you understand what I mean, Isla?" He ripped me out of my thoughts, and even though I understood perfectly, I shot out another question.
“Who—who did this? Sergei?” I whispered, hearing my own naiveté.
"I don’t know,” he confessed, his voice low. “But it's us against them now. They’ve openly let us know that we’re on their radar, and we can run away and begin a chase, or…we can play our own game and set our own rules.” He leaned on the table, getting closer to the photos once more. “And if we’re the ones setting the rules, then we’re in control."
Roman spoke to me in a tone I’d never heard before—cold, absolute, like he was discussing business, not the photo of me standing naked after a shower.
"I—I don't want to play anything." My voice shook, all of me regretful.
"It's not up to you now.” He finally looked up at me once more. “If we run, if we back down, then it will escalate. That's the way it works. It's a zero-sum game—always." Roman cut himself off, as if deciding if he should say the next sentence. He blinked at me and took the chance. "Just like it was with your father.” The last word sliced the air between us, my comprehension of it all settling deeper within me. “One person has to lose…for the other to win."
I nodded slowly, looking right past him, calculating the implicationsof staying versus leaving. While I pondered the next steps, Roman called someone, his deep voice giving out instructions in Russian.
