above his head. He looked so human, so vulnerable, so handsome, it stole my breath to even look at him.
Madame Richie’s laugh resounded in my mind and raised the hair on my arms. No wonder she’d burst out laughing. The man meant for me was a mobster who kidnapped me and would soon murder my papa. My fortune must have been the most interesting one she ever foresaw.
I found my clothes on the floor and dragged them into the bathroom. I would have gone straight to my room, but come was leaking down my thighs. A condom had been my last thought when Ronan’s hands were all over me, though now the lack of one filled me with uncertainty. I knew he wasn’t celibate. I also knew he used condoms; they were stashed in his nightstand drawer. My stomach turned at the idea of him with other women in the same bed he just slept with me in—Nadia especially. Was he as soft with her as he was with me? The thought made me sick, so I pushed it away.
After I cleaned myself up, peed, and dressed, I exited the bathroom. Ronan was still sleeping, looking so peaceful I didn’t want to wake him—not that I had a reason to. We’d only had sex; it meant nothing to him. He couldn’t have made it clearer. I was the stupid one for thinking I could handle it and not feel anything for him afterward.
As I moved to the door, my gaze caught on something that glinted silver in the moonlight. Everything inside of me went quiet. Even my heart.
The pistol lay on the floor a few feet away.
My eyes traveled back to Ronan. As a heavy feeling disrupted the silence within me, I suddenly knew I would never turn him in for what he did to me. He may not be a good man, but the world wasn’t black-and-white. He was all the gray in between.
And I was falling for him hard—so hard, I worried when he was finished, there wouldn’t be anything left of me.
I glanced back at the gun, my gaze as torn in direction as the sudden conflict ripping me in half. A part of me wanted to ignore the chance of freedom; the other wondered if this was my only chance to save my papa . . . and, selfishly, myself. I knew I couldn’t take another’s life in the process. I knew without a doubt I could never take Ronan’s.
But most games were won by bluffs.
The moonlight felt like frost on my skin as my feet moved of their own volition. My hands shook when I picked up the murderous piece of metal. It was heavy—so heavy, I immediately wanted to drop it, but when my mind played a scene of me standing in front of my papa’s coffin alone, my grip tightened.
“Kotyonok.”
The single word slid through me, restarting my body with a jolt of axles and wheels that echoed in my ears. My eyes shot to Ronan’s. He sat on the edge of the bed in his briefs, his arms resting on his thighs. A narrowed gaze dropped to the gun in my hands before sliding back up to mine.
“Bring it here.”
A cold sweat flooded me, washing through me with shaky dampness. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. The battle within consumed every ounce of me, stealing the air from my lungs and suffocating me.
His gaze hardened. “I said, bring it here.”
This was easier when he was D’yavol and not the man who wiped away my tears. Just the thought burned the backs of my eyes because I knew, after this, he never would again. But I needed to do this now, before I fell so deep I couldn’t find a way out.
“I can’t.” The words leaked of despair.
He stood and stepped toward me, determination in his eyes. I raised the barrel to his chest. The gun was so heavy, my arms shook, the trigger burning my finger.
“Don’t. Please don’t.” My blood rushed so loudly in my ears it almost drowned out my voice.
Jaw tight, he paused.
“I can’t be the reason my papa dies. I can’t . . .” Tears ran down my cheeks. “Just let me go,” I pleaded. “That’s all I want.”
He made a dark, disbelieving sound. “You’re a better liar than I thought.”
“What?” My chest constricted.
“Was this your plan?” he growled. “Were you thinking about saving your goddamn father’s life while fucking me?”
I blanched. “No . . . I didn’t plan this, but