Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked #1)(36)
I shook myself from the trance, and looked for the demon I suspected was around.
A door along the far wall was flanked by scowling guards in fine clothes. I’d wager anything I’d find Greed there. If I could make it through the crowded room. There were so many patrons that I had to tread carefully. I tried weaving around groups of people standing behind card players, but barely squeezed through immoveable bodies. Servers carried silver trays overflowing with food and drink, making the progression more difficult than it already was. I managed to shoot between a line of people topping off prosecco glasses before a fight broke out behind me.
Cheers and jeers erupted at the nearest table. I stood on tiptoes and peered past a crowd of people who’d moved in to see what had drawn such a reaction. The door was still impossibly far.
I debated hopping up onto the tables, and running across them when I heard her name—it was a blade to my heart.
“Vittoria!”
I spun slowly, searching for whoever’d called out for my sister. My attention landed on a man around my father’s age, half sitting in his chair, half falling to the floor. Gambling chips and empty glasses were stacked in haphazard piles around him. He lifted his gaze, and I drew in a sharp breath. Domenico Nucci Senior.
“Signore Nucci. Do you—”
“Vittoria, be a good girl and see about my drink, will you?” His focus slid to the next card someone slapped down. “Maybe get some of those fried calamari with extra arrabbiata to dip them in, too. It’s gonna be another long game. These cheaters are making me feel wolfish.”
He smiled like we were sharing some big secret.
“I’m not—I’m Emilia, my sister is . . .” Signore Nucci was obviously intoxicated and probably thought he was at Sea & Vine, ordering dinner. The spicy marinara and fried octopus were one of our most popular dishes to share. It also explained his confusion over calling me Vittoria—she used to help our father and uncle in the dining room sometimes. “I’ll make sure someone brings your food soon.”
I turned and smacked into a hard chest. One of the nicely dressed men who’d been guarding the door glared down at me. “The boss would like a word with you. Come this way.”
Whatever pain I’d felt about being mistaken for my sister was immediately replaced with fear. I followed the muscular man as he cleared a path to the door. Power seeped from whatever lay beyond it, and I knew it meant a prince of Hell was in residence. I steeled my buzzing nerves.
The man wasted little time with entertaining my trepidation, and shoved the door open. He barreled into the room without a second glance, and, with little choice, I followed.
“She’s here, signore.”
I don’t know what I expected to find—maybe a fire-breathing dragon guarding a mountain of gold and jewels, or a really large poisonous frog lashing out with a whiplike tongue covered in spikes—but a lavish room fitted with layered Persian rugs, an oversized desk, plush leather chairs, and a dazzling crystal chandelier wasn’t it. Everything was elegant and warm. So very at odds with the shivers running down my back.
The Prince of Greed sat behind the mammoth desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, a bored look on his finely carved face. He was, in a word, bronzed. From his dark auburn hair to the deep russet of his eyes, he reminded me of copper coins melted and recast in a humanoid form. If he had a dagger like Envy and Wrath, he’d hidden it well. Which made me trust him even less.
“I wasn’t anticipating this meeting, but I am pleased nonetheless.” He smiled. There was something off about it. Something not quite natural. “Please, sit.”
He motioned to one of the chairs in front of him, but I lingered near the door. Either his powers were greatly diminished despite the greed pouring from his gambling den, or he’d tamped them down for this meeting. A demon game—feigning weakness to lure in prey, though, in this room he didn’t really seem to hide who he was or where he was from.
Two demon guards stood behind him with their arms crossed, growling deep in their throats. One had pale green reptile skin and matching eyes. And the other was covered in short fur—similar to a deer, and had liquid ebony eyes. Two antlers curled up and away from the top of the fur-covered demon’s head. It was disconcerting, seeing something that almost looked human with the skin and eyes of an animal. I tried to convince myself to cross the room, but couldn’t force my body to carry me anywhere near those demons. “I . . .”
Greed’s attention slowly shifted from me to what had caught my eye. He snapped his fingers and the room cleared. When he looked at me again, there was a hunger in his gaze—one that spoke of possession. He didn’t want to seduce me, he wanted to own me. I wouldn’t be a trophy to him like Envy, I’d be a tool for power.
“Emilia. Please,” he nodded to the unoccupied chair, “no one will harm you while you’re here. You have my word.”
Said the wolf to the little hen. His use of my name unnerved me, but I managed my best impression of a confident stride and sat down. “Did my sister tell you my name?”
“No. You did. Pardon my rudeness, but I have informants stationed throughout the club. They heard your exchange with one of my regular customers.” His smile was almost convincing this time. I wondered if he sensed my fear and adjusted his responses accordingly. That thought brought on a new rush of nerves I didn’t need. Being alone with Greed was a terribly rash idea, but I really couldn’t think of a better way to get information from him. “Vittoria didn’t mention you at all, actually. This is quite a surprise.”