The Devil's Game 1

d have been breathtaking. The sprawling

for the heavens and a russet

chest, threatening to suffocate her. The pristine glass windows felt

from the conditioning unit, th

hands trembling slightly as he pushed

is for the best, Ayra. You'll be taken care of

coat tightly. She scanned her father's face for any shred of remorse - any

s but none that resembled guilt. Ayra has neve

had trusted him all her life - her father had never

hat was happening. She did not know the

her she was teetering on the edge of something

n this," she murmured. Her voice was

focusing on the papers again. "It is comp

ahogany table to the man sitting silently at the furt

word since Ayra arrived, but his cold gaze had been on her

ster to address him. "Could you give me a

consistent. He stared at Ayra with a quiet sort of inte

broody type and Ayra doubted

plicated, Ayra. I..."

e that runs into millions with an atroci

snapped to

ispered harshl

n his face. "The debt, Ayra. It's...complicated. Th

who was now sizing up her f

rfectly tailored black suit, sharp jawline, dark

sman, not a man whose empire

a different story. Ayra could not

n her hands. Half a minute later, she turned back t

ce for some kind of explanation. "You're

father snapped, a note of impa

nd the family. Or what? Do you expect not to sacrifice so

with the flood of words Ferdinan

age as the only solution-a way out of th

he'd be secure, and comfortable.

ars. Her throat fighting down a sob as she remembere

e where it comes from," Lisbeth had said. "But there

en less than friendly

d herself. She should have known this was

ns. Yet, she ignored them. But noth

g to Lucian. His voice almost in a whisper as

rush of her blood. The bet

tract, noting the thick black in

at the bottom, and she woul

d pounds, Ayra's fingers hovering over

voice is softer now, almost pleading. "

ed him-he was her father. But why did this feel like a betrayal? Wh

e the silenc

, deep, almost a whisper, with a quiet au

Ayra couldn't look away. There was no compassion

ion to Lucian. Ayra

fighting the rising panic. She wanted to sc

er. She was trap

er sister's voice echoing in her mind: "You have ta

to tell herself. It was

ng across the paper felt like

cian reached forward and pul

eyes met again. There was a flicker of something warm in his eyes

Lucian said, eyes shifting back to her fat

paper. His eyes darted nervously between

t Ayra as if to offer a silent apology. But

at the bottom. With that one

he papers into his briefcase with a f

. "The deal is struck. Take care." Then, without another

wenty-eighth," Lucian said as t

d rooted to her seat. This wasn't real.

m pulling out a thick cigar from his coat. His

to the desk and