The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,22

I feel absolutely nothing.

He doesn’t set me on fire by merely being in his presence. Nor does he have me wanting him with every fiber of my being. I think of Alek, and how his kisses make me forget everything but him. How his kisses make me feel loved, wanted, and not owned like a piece of property as I do with Frank.

Frank mistakes my gusto for him, not Alek, whose mouthwatering taste still lingers on my tongue.

“Oh, you bad girl,” he whispers against my lips, drawing up the hem of my dress.

I panic, not wanting to insult Alek any further by having sex in his bathroom. “Not here,” I coyly reply, stopping his retreat with my hand over his.

But he slaps my hand away angrily. “Since when do you have a say?”

I’m about to blow my cover and bite off his tongue, but the door opens, and Santo appears. His sharp green eyes narrow into slits when he realizes what he’s walked in on. Frank doesn’t let me go, grinning smugly when he sees his father’s reaction.

Frank plays dumb, but I’m certain he’s aware of his father’s affection toward me. He wouldn’t say a word though. As far as he’s concerned, he’s the one who’s won, seeing as I’m wearing his ring and not Santo’s.

I quickly untangle myself from Frank’s arms, embarrassed and ashamed as I look like nothing but a whore. I go about dabbing down my dress, refusing to make eye contact with either of the Macrillo men.

“Let’s go, son,” Santo commands, his tone stern. “We need this alliance.”

He doesn’t say anything further, not wishing me to know why. But I already know, thanks to his drunken late-night confession.

An annoyed grunt gets caught in Frank’s throat, but he eventually concedes.

“Come, Ella.” It’s Santo who addresses me.

The last thing I want to do is face Alek with Santo and Frank by my side, but this’ll allow me to uncover what Alek wants to discuss.

So with one final attempt to salvage my dress, I fold the towel and place it onto the counter. When I meet Santo’s eyes, all I see is annoyance, but he doesn’t say a word.

Frank offers me his hand, wanting to appear the perfect gentleman as he escorts his fiancée, but we both know he is far from that. However, I play my part because it’s only a matter of time.

Santo leads the way while Frank and I follow to where I’m presuming is Alek’s office. I don’t know what he’s planning, and after what just happened between us, I can’t imagine it’d be good.

“Don’t be nervous, bambina,” Santo says softly, trying to console me. “He can’t hurt you.”

Frank has no idea about Alek “returning” me to Santo. He believes I returned on my own free will. That I saw the error of my ways and returned because I missed him so much.

Santo and I are the only ones who know the truth, a fact that excites Santo. He enjoys guarding a secret no one else knows. Mila isn’t convinced, but as long as I stay out of her way, she doesn’t care.

The farther we walk, the shallower my breaths become. I don’t know how Alek will react to seeing me with Frank, but I can’t imagine it’ll be good. We turn the corner, and I see Pavel standing outside a large door. My heart begins to race, but he remains passive, not letting our secrets spill.

He opens the door, and when we walk into Alek’s huge office, it’s sensory overload. The décor is so Alek—smart, sophisticated, simple. He doesn’t need to show off his power with flashy things. His presence is enough.

And when he remains propped up against the front of his large desk with a scotch in hand, his presence almost suffocates me. He doesn’t meet my eyes. He dismisses me as though I don’t exist.

Saint and Willow stand in the corner of the room, and as soon as I make eye contact with Willow, I instantly look away. She’s smart. I know if she looks close enough, she’ll see what lies I hide.

My attention suddenly focuses on something I missed because from first glance, I’d believe my eyes were playing tricks. But there is no mistake. Three women in sheer white gowns are seated on a sofa, awaiting command.

My stomach drops. Why has Alek called us in here?

The door closes behind us, sealing us in.

Alek doesn’t speak. He simply sips his scotch coolly.

Santo and Frank also stand without emotion, as this is