Page 34 of Deal with the Devil

I want to press for more—for everything—but I know it’s not my place. As much as I will be his wife, we don’t really know each other at all. I can’t ask himto bare his soul to me, to expose the shattered pieces of his heart, so I might find a way to stitch them back together before I’ve even had a chance to know him for, well,him.

I decide to rectify that tonight. “Do you want to join me outside? It’s a beautiful night to just sit out and listen to the ocean.” He watches me like he’s trying to see inside me as I top up my wine. “It’s okay if you don’t want to join me. You look—” I study him curiously, noting not for the first time the dark shadows under his eyes. Is he stressed? Overworked? “You look tired. Rain check. I’m good to sit alone.”

“I want to join you.”

“You do?” My breath catches.Why does it catch?

“Of course.”

I can’t help my blush as I fix him another drink—vodka, chilled, no ice, and carry both glasses to the patio door. I step, barefoot, onto the still warm-from-the-sun, smooth, stone patio. Then I move to the sectional with all the comfortable cushions, and lower onto it. I’m still in my dress, and there’s a bit of a chill in the air I didn’t account for when I made the decision to come out here. Kane, however, clearly thought of it, because he’s carrying the throw from the couch over an arm.

He passes me the blanket and moves to turn on the patio fireplace as I toss it overmy lap, snuggling in. The opulence of his home is insane. I’ve been here for weeks, and it still stuns me.

When he settles beside me on the sectional, sitting surprisingly close, I can’t quite contain the waves that crash in my belly like the sea crashes against the rock of a cliff. Just like the sea, this man is going to wear me down wave after crashing wave.

“Can you tell me about yourself?” I ask softly, a little hesitantly. When he looks at me sideways, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa, I can’t help but feel safe surrounded by his warmth.

“What do you want to know?”

I slide my thumb over the bulbed belly of my wine glass. “Everything you want to tell me.”

“I’m the youngest of three boys.”

I wait for more, but when nothing comes, I prompt, “Are you close?”

He shrugs. “We were.”

“Were?”

“We were pushed into different roles. My father is a very intelligent, very diverse man. My brothers each head different Volkov family organizations.”

“What about you?”

He studies my frown. “I’m the spare, the chameleon. I was trained to manage both organizations in the unfortunate event that one of my brothers—” He pauses and a chill runs through me, because Icould swear he was going to saydies. Instead, he says, “Fails.”

An unsteady, slightly uncomfortable breath leaves my lungs. “I see.” When he says nothing more, I ask, “How did you end up being a part of Devils Heartbreak?”

He rolls his lips, thinking. I sense I’m not getting the full story when he explains, “I was born in Russia. My father is Russian, my mother American. She was born and raised in New York. He first saw her during a business trip, and because my father is my father, he gets what he wants. He took her home with him, married her, and—” He laughs an incredulous sound as he rubs his brow. “Well, he forced her heart to fall for him. They’ve been in love since—though, the beginning, I’ve heard, was rather rocky.”

“You say that like he kidnapped her.” Kane only stares at me. I blink, waiting for him to elaborate before my pitch rises slightly, “Did he?”

“Some might call it kidnapping. My father likes to say it was an unconventional courting.”

I think my jaw is literally in my lap. When I finally pick it up, I laugh accusingly. “You’re joking.”

“No. I told you; my father isn’t a good man. He does, however, love hard. In his own special way.”

“Oh, my God, Kane—that’s—insane.”

“It’s their love story.”

“She has Stockholm syndrome.”I’m horrified.

Kane chuckles. “I assure you, she doesn’t. In fact, if anyone is at the mercy of the other, it’s my father at the mercy of her. There’s not a thing that man wouldn’t do for her. Nothing.”

I feel my face screw with indecision. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me.”

He chuckles, moving on. “I came to America at my father’s request. I attended college and met the guys. They quickly became my family, and the band was—it just happened. We all come from very powerful families, and we all are in the possession of very large inheritances, but we wanted something for ourselves. Wanted to carve our own path, in our own way.”

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