Page 52 of Her Cruel Empire
He’s not wrong. My usual companions are sophisticates who understand the rules of engagement—temporary pleasure with no messy emotions attached.
Robin is their complete antithesis.
But I laugh, the sound light and dismissive. “She was a whim in Vegas. A passing fancy.”
Stefan studies me with the careful attention he usually reserves for business negotiations. “Is that really true?”
“Of course. She’s a bit of fun for a few weeks. That’s all. No different than all the rest.”
But even as I say it, something in me rebels against the words. The way Robin looks at me when I touch her—like I’m capable of tenderness instead of just taking what I want. The way she melts under my hands but still challenges me with those earnest questions about my father, about my past, about things that are none of her business.
The way she’s made me feel less alone for the first time in months. Years.
I wave my hand dismissively, shoving those inconvenient thoughts back into the dark corner where they belong. “Enough about pleasure. Talk to me about business.”
Stefan sighs, and I can see him reluctantly shifting into business mode. The warmth in his expression doesn’t disappear entirely, but it’s overlaid now with the careful control that’s kept our family alive and thriving for generations.
“I’d like you to have a chat with some of them yourself. The organizations in Europe are restless. The old loyalties are fracturing.”
Frustration flares in my chest. “I just got back from America. I thought you were taking care of Europe—as we agreed,” I add coolly.
Stefan might be older than me, and he might be my uncle, but the Consortium comes before everything, and I am its leader. If he can’t do his job, then we have a problem.
“I know,” he says calmly. “And I’m sorry to have to suggest it. But the world is changing, Eva. No one trusts anyone anymore. The old ways are dying. And the Consortium clients want to have the assurances of the Boss, not her underling.”
There’s not a trace of bitterness in his voice, but it makes me uncomfortable to hear him put it that way. Besides, he’s right, and I know it. The careful balance of power that’s kept the European underworld stable for decades is shifting. Old alliances are fracturing under pressure from new players, new technologies, new ways of moving money and weapons and information. The Americans are throwing their weight around more aggressively, the Russians are the same, and everyone in between is scrambling to maintain their piece of the pie.
My lips tighten as I consider the implications. “Change also brings opportunity. Those who adapt will dominate.”
“Exactly. Which is why they need to seeyou. In person. Your presence reminds them why it’s better to work with the Novak Consortium than against it.”
I know he’s right. There’s something about face-to-face meetings that video calls and encrypted messages can’t replicate. When people see me across a negotiating table, they remember that I’m not just Zoltan’s daughter—I’m a force in my own right. Someone who can make their lives very profitable or very unpleasant, depending on how cooperative they choose to be.
But the thought of leaving again makes something twist uncomfortably in my stomach. I don’t want to leave Robin behind. Not yet. The days left in our arrangement are dwindling, and I’m nowhere near getting her out of my system.
The realization should alarm me more than it does.
“How long would I need to be gone?” I ask, though I already know the answer won’t satisfy me.
“Three weeks. Maybe four. Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Rome. The full circuit.”
Four weeks. More than the time I have left with Robin.
It shouldn’t even be a consideration. She’s a temporary acquisition. A month of purchased companionship. When the time is up, I’ll send her back to whatever mundane existence she came from with her million dollars and the memories of what it feels like to be properly fucked.
Nothing more.
So why does the thought of cutting that time short feel like agony?
“Eva,” Stefan says, and I shake out of my thoughts.
“Yes?”
“You should start in Paris.”
I stare at him. I haven’t been to Paris since…well, since the day my father was shot. “I don’t care for Paris,” I say coldly.
“Think it over.” Stefan drains his glass and sets it back on the tray with a soft clink. “I should go.”
