Page 20 of Venomous Desires

Maybe it was him.

Kyle shut the window the moment I came in, but the room still felt strangely chilled. And wasn’thecold?

He was wearing a robe as yesterday. At least this time he’d had the decency to tie it. I, on the other hand, had to eat the snow. Just great. He didn’t even have the damn modesty to hire a gatekeeper. Twenty freaking minutes I had stood there, yelling like a madwoman. And for what? To be left soaked and freezing?

I shivered, cursing under my breath. Kyle, noticing, hadtossed me a big, warm, and soft sweater. “Change into this before you catch pneumonia,” he said, already turning away, leaving me to Eyes were fixed in my direction.

Blind eyes shouldn’t have had the power to flay me open, to unravel me thread by thread, yet Judas Romanovski somehow did.

I swallowed.

The corner of his mouth lifted—barely enough to call it a smile—before disappearing again. He drew lazily on the cigarette, completely unhurried, the ember glowing scarlet in the dim room. Then he exhaled a slow ribbon of smoke that curled between us, as though he had all the time in the world.

Heat crept into my cheeks before I could stop it. I hastily tugged the hem of my sweater lower, suddenly aware of every inch of exposed skin, of my damp hair clinging to my neck, of the way his head remained angled toward me.

Maybe I was imagining it.

Perhaps I was just rattled by the cold.

When I finally felt warm again, I folded the soaked sweater onto the floor, making a mental note to pick it up later, then forced myself to look anywhere but at him.

The bedroom was even larger than the office downstairs.

Black marble veined with gold stretched beneath Persian rugs so soft I almost felt guilty standing on them in my muddy boots. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, scattering fractured light across impossibly high ceilings. The king-sized four-poster bed, draped in burgundy silk, dominated one side of the room, while antique armchairs and a velvet sofa framed a marble coffee table stacked with leather-bound books.

Money.

An obscene amount of it.

Seriously, what had this man done in a past life to deserve this? Rob, a king?

Since hecouldn’tacknowledge my existence, I wandered a few cautious steps, pretending not to notice him while stealing glances around the room.

A tiny gilded birdcage caught my eye on the shelf.

It couldn’t have housed anything larger than a sparrow. I reached for it before I could stop myself, turning it carefully in my hands.

Funny how beautiful they looked when you were holding one instead of being trapped inside it.

A knock had me startled so violently I nearly dropped it.

“Shit.”

Quickly placing it back exactly where I’d found it, I straightened just as the door opened. A middle-aged woman wheeled in a silver service cart.

My gaze flicked from her to the devil lounging on the sofa as though he owned the world.

He tilted his head, his eyes now distant, looking straight with no focus. I nibbled on my lips as the woman rolled the cart towards the table and stopped. She stepped back and bowed politely.

“Your dinner, sir.” He haughtily flicked his hand, dismissing her tersely. The woman bowed again, and without looking at me, she walked out before closing the door.

He snapped his head at me, casually leaned back and spread his legs wide, exposing his thick, muscled thighs. His arms were thrown over the back of the sofa, and he curved his lips.

“Come close,” My cheeks flared with embarrassment, and I averted my eyes to anywhere but at his legs.

It took me an entire minute to process his command and take a shaky step toward the couch. But that didn’t seem close enough, because he twisted his lips and beckoned me over with his fingers.

“Closer.” I frowned, fighting every cell in my body not toobey. I clutched the strap of the bag tightly and nervously circled the couch to sit beside him.