Page 5 of Sinful Lord

Something inside of me breaks.

My throat clears. My chest opens up. Finally, I find the strength to do the one thing that can save me from hell.

I scream.

1

Tytus

Present day…

She’s even more stubborn than I remember.

“I’m not giving you shit,” Yasha spits.

Crossing her thin pale arms, the heiress dips her hip at me. She’s doing her best to put on a tough façade, but I know it won’t hold up for long.

I’m privy to her all of her weaknesses. The question is, am I willing to act on them to get what I need?

“I didn’t ask you for shit,” I roll my eyes. “I’m looking for something a lot more valuable than shit. Access. Information.”

A girl.

“And you think you can just waltz into my city and ask me for something that precious?”

“Oh, Berlin is suddenly your city?”

“Berlin belongs to the rich, and I’m the richest among them all. So, yes. Berlin belongs to me.”

I bite my tongue. This is typical Yasha. A foolish part of me thought she might have softened over the years. Looks like I was wrong.

“Perfect. Then you’ll be able to help me get what I’m after,” I say, holding back my growl.

“And what exactly are you after?”

“Access. Information,” I deflect. Yasha is the jealous type; if she knew what I really wanted, she’d turn right around and walk away, but not before trying to land a hard slap against my cheek.

“You want access to my company’s security cameras?” she asks. “You mean, the ones we sold to the government? The ones they use to keep watch over these empty streets? The ones we’re not supposed to have access to? You want access to those?”

I shake my head and flick my thumb across my lower lip.

“No,” I grumble. “I don’t want access to your security cameras. I want access to your father’s security cameras. The ones he put a backdoor into, even after promising the government he wouldn’t. You know, the ones he uses to creep on all the little German school girls as they skip home from class every afternoon.”

Yasha’s painted black lips twist into a grimace at the truth is my accusation. But it’s hardly a well-kept secret.

“I’m afraid my dear old papa’s creeping days are coming to an end,” she snarls.

That lifts my brow. “You’re planning a coup?” I ask, almost impressed. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Yasha smiles, sharp cheekbones throwing shade over her sunken cheeks. ”You misunderstand me,” she says, taking a seductive step forward. “I’m only planning one thing…”

I let her get close enough to touch me, but when her long black fingernail lifts to trace a line down my chest, I grab her wrist and hold on tight.

“I’m not yours to touch anymore,” I remind her.

Yasha’s spindly fingers stretch and curl as she tries to break free from my grip. But it’s no use.

“You were never really mine,” she finally sighs, giving up. “And I was never really yours, was I?”