“Zapomnite. Ya—d’yavol.”
Remember. I’m the devil.
With him using Russian, it felt as if we’d escaped into our own private, secretive world. It was enough of a reassurance that I felt comfortable enough to walk away.
But just as before, when I reached a certain point, I slipped behind a tree so I could see Kazimir again.
And swoon. He wasn’t just a handsome stranger. He was the man I was already falling in love with.
CHAPTER 8
Rafaela
Ugh.
With finals coming up in a couple of weeks, I had way too much to do, including a book report to turn in. And I’d yet to read the book. I flopped down on my bed, smiling as Golden Angel jumped to her favorite spot, her head nestled between pillows.
I curled my legs under me, opening the book I hoped to finish by the morning. That could mean I wouldn’t be able to see Kazimir and I hated that thought.
He was my incredible fix, a sweet reminder there was life outside the estate walls. Maybe if I got the gist of the book, I could write the report.
With a smile on my face, I flipped to the first page, determined to skim the pages.
The knock on my door was followed by Golden Angel snuffling.
Apprehension immediately pooled in my stomach. My father’s car hadn’t been in the garage when I’d gotten home from school, but that didn’t mean anything.
Golden lifted her head, her tail thwapping on the bed before I crawled off. When I opened the door, our housekeeper appeared nervous. “Cosa c’è che non va, Carmilla?”
What’s wrong, Carmilla?
“Tuo padre ha bisogno di vederti subito. Dice che è urgente.”
Your father needs to see you immediately. He says it’s urgent.
While issuing a deep sigh, she curtsied and scampered off, the terrible deed done. I glanced toward my fur baby, debating whether I’d take her with me. “Stay here, girl. I’ll be right back.”
Being summoned to my father’s office had never been in my best interest. The location was his private quarters, a place no one was allowed to step into uninvited, including my mother. It was also a place where he laid out acts of revenge.
But even though my father was a brutal man, he’d stopped physically punishing me years before. However, he’d found several creative disciplinary methods. I knocked on the door and immediately rubbed my hands on my jeans.
“Come.”
His voice boomed through the closed door. As soon as I walked in, he spun around in his chair that had been facing the window behind his desk. “Daughter. How is my princess?”
“Fine, Father. What is so urgent?”
“How is school?”
Narrowing my eyes, I slyly scanned the room to ensure we were alone. We were. “It’s fine. Gearing up for graduation. I should graduate top of my class.”
“Excellent and I would expect no less.” He shifted some paperwork on his desk, pulling a group of papers into his hand. Instantly, I recognized it as the application for the Paris College of Art. I’d researched the various colleges in Italy, Spain, and France and determined the facility was perfect for what I wanted to do. The university was also considered international.
I held my breath, realizing this was the moment he decided whether I would be allowed to attend.
“I’ve decided you will be allowed to go.”
My squeal was likely heard all the way to the ocean. I jumped up and down, even clapping my hands while my father moved from around the desk, sitting on the edge. While he wore a smile that I remembered from my childhood, his eyes were cold as usual, scrutinizing me as he’d always done.
