Page 121 of Tempted By the Devil

It’s what must be done.

The more troubling problem involves the woman dozing in my arms. Portia is at ease as she sleeps in my bed, her beautiful face still and eyelids closed. She has no idea that she’s come so close to uncovering the real truth.

For that she almost paid with her life. It makes me wonder if she’ll be able to drop it now.

…or will she continue to investigate? Will she keep digging, which will result in inevitable attempts on her life?

I’m not so arrogant that I believe it’s impossible she could figure things out. Portia’s intelligent, curious, and determined, a dangerous combination.

Am I prepared to risk that someday this will happen again?

I battle it out in my head as eventually sleep claims me.

Hours pass before I open my eyes again and find that it’s so early in the morning, most of Newport’s still asleep.

Portia’s no different; she’s strayed from my side at some point and rolled onto her back. I lean over and place a gentle kiss on her cheek. I’m careful getting out of bed, moving slow so not to wake her up.

Last night I said any business could wait until the afternoon, but even in sleep my mind’s been overcrowded. I have too much to think about.

Only my overnight guards are on shift, stationed dutifully at different points throughout the penthouse. The floor is otherwise quiet.

I go to my office, snicking the door shut. The large window overlooks the pale early morning sky as gradually the lights in the surrounding skyscrapers blink on and traffic grows many stories below.

I’ve stopped at my desk, drawing the top drawer open. The devil mask is placed inside, the menacing scowl permanently fixed onto its face.

It stares up at me like it’s alive.He’swaiting for me.

My fingers curl over the edge of the drawer. The silence in the room, and the rest of the penthouse, suddenly feels deafening.

Something stirs inside me. It uncoils like a snake from the darkest corner within, then slithers up my spine. I can feel its venom poisoning my bloodstream and the hiss of it in my ear. His voice, his thoughts, his everything taking over.

Il Diavolo.

He exists inside me like a secondary presence. Another person trapped deep inside.

I pick up the mask in my hands and return it to its rightful place on my face. The blood-red leather mask slips over my features and feels cool against the skin.

My pulse speeds up. The world narrows to a dark tunnel. Familiar urges take root, amplifying times a thousand.

It’s a rush like no other, dark and electric and intense.

I step toward the giant window to admire the reflection in the glass and see a different man standing before me.

IamIl Diavolo.

And he is hungry.

30

PORTIA

I wake alonein Rafael’s bed, not for the first time. Rafael tends to go to sleep after I do and wakes up before I do.

When I’ve asked, he says he doesn’t need much sleep. He doesn’t sleep past four or five in the morning, even on days off (which don’t seem to exist for him anyway).

For a while I lay against the pillow and let last night’s events settle over me. My throat is still swollen and aching and even my chest hurts from all the trauma I’ve endured. Rafael’s physician said it’ll be another few days before I return to normal.

Sergio and his men destroyed my phone.

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