she scrambled off my lap and puked into a potted plant.
cacoëthes
(n.) an urge to do something inadvisable
Head resting against the window, I stared past the spiderwebs of frost on the glass. Moonlight cast a blanket of silver over the snow, and the frozen wasteland glittered like diamonds.
From my vantage point, it felt like I was a princess locked in a tower. Held captive by a monster who shot men in the head at a dining table set with crystal glasses and cake.
After I vomited the contents of my stomach into one of Ronan’s potted plants and wiped my mouth with the back of a hand, for whatever demented reason, he let me walk back to my cage and shut the door. In the midst of bloodshed, it felt like the safest thing to do. But as two more days passed in this room, not even the memory of a man with a bullet hole in his forehead quelled the desire for air. The seclusion began to burn, to bubble, to encase my body and squeeze.
I’d started making tallies on the bathroom mirror with an old tube of lipstick I found, which probably belonged to Ronan’s last “pet,” and I was now at seven days.
A full week in hell.
The door opened, and a chill coasted through me as Ronan’s shadow spread wings across the floor. He pulled a wooden chair toward the middle of the room, took a seat, and rested his elbows on his knees.
My gaze flicked to the open door behind him. I wondered if that guard was still stationed in the hall. At this point, I’d rather be shot than stuck in the same room as this man.
“Are you superstitious now, kotyonok?”
D’yavol in the flesh stared back at me. I didn’t know he would embody a man dressed in black designer suits, tattoos, and a charming façade. I’d never be so naïve again.
I gazed out the window and said, “Yes. If there’s a devil, there has to be a God.”
“You think someone’s going to save you?”
My throat tightened at the idea at least one had already died trying. Ivan suddenly came to mind. I missed him. I missed his safe, comforting touch. I even missed the lack of spark. Now I knew the kind of chemistry between me and Ronan could only be witchcraft.
“You’ve received a lot of calls on your little burner phone since you arrived in Moscow.” His pause was oppressive, so stagnant and heavy, I couldn’t help but give him my full attention. “Some from your papa, but most from another number.”
I tensed at the subtle threat toward Ivan.
“No one can save you from me.” His eyes shone indifference laced with a dark edge. “Not even God.” The words condensed the air, grasping each heartbeat with an accented threat.
His gaze slid down my body, from my loose blonde curls, to my T-shirt, to my bare legs. The mere touch of his stare scorched hot and cold, and the memory of his hand between my legs came to life.
I’d like to believe a calloused thumb would draw a reaction from any woman’s body regardless of the circumstances. Although, my skin stretched taut as his words returned about my mother being sadistic and the fact Ronan could have brought me to release even in that twisted situation. He could have humiliated me in front of those men, in front of a cousin I never even knew existed, but he didn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the reason why.
With the heavy sensation of his perusal flaring an uneasy heat in my veins, I managed to say, “Goodness always prevails in the end.”
Apparently, he found the idea amusing. He leaned back in his chair and watched me through eyes so dark and lazy they must have been formed by smoke pouring from a cauldron.
“What did you do to my cousin?” I asked.
“I let him crawl back to your papa.”
My expression was disbelieving. “Why?”
“Luck,” he said simply.
“You do all your business deals based on luck?”
“Some.” He glanced at the room, relishing in the sight of his fortress of evil. “A little bit of luck got me here, you know.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘narcissism.’”
A hint of humor sparkled in his eyes. “That too.”
I refused to say the word “luck” again because if anyone deserved to have a piano fall on their head while they walked down Wall Street, it was this man. So, I improvised with sarcasm.
“I guess you got really narcissistic when I stumbled