Bound To The Devil

chapter 98

Her breath caught.

No. No way.

Slowly, she turned her head toward the entrance just as the heavy door creaked open.

And there he was.

Sebastian Vasiliev, standing in her doorway like the devil himself had come to collect a debt.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. "How the hell—"

"You really thought I wouldn’t have a key?" He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, Valarie. You wound me."

Her grip on her wine glass tightened. "That’s called breaking and entering, you psycho."

Sebastian stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He moved slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving hers as he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

"I let you have your fun," he mused. "Watched you enjoy your little ‘victory.’" His voice dropped an octave. "But now it’s my turn."

A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself to smirk. "And what exactly do you plan to do, Mr. Mafia King?"

Sebastian’s smirk was nothing short of wicked.

"Darling," he murmured, taking slow steps toward her, his eyes locked onto her like a predator. "You’re about to find out."

*

Valarie’s entire body locked up as she watched Sebastian step inside her apartment, shutting the door behind him like he had all the time in the world. His movements were slow, deliberate—like he was savoring the moment.

"You," she hissed, gripping her wine glass like she might throw it at his arrogant, devastatingly handsome face. "Are insane."

Sebastian smirked, rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, his grey eyes gleaming with something dark. "Did you really think you could run, malyshka?" He clicked his tongue, stepping closer. "From me?"

Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to keep her face neutral. "You can’t just break into my house, you lunatic."

He raised a brow. "Lunatic?" His smirk widened, and suddenly, he was right in front of her, caging her in against the couch. He reached out, fingers brushing against her wrist, and she jolted at the slow, almost teasing touch. "I prefer the term devoted."

She scoffed, jerking her hand away. "Obsessed, you mean."

Sebastian hummed as if considering it. "Fine," he admitted, tilting his head, his gaze running down her body in that way that made her stomach flip. "Obsessed, devoted—same thing when it comes to you, diety."

Valarie swallowed, realizing her mistake. She was still in his shirt—one of the silky, expensive ones she had stolen this morning before making her escape. And the way it barely covered anything was not helping.

Noticing her glance down, Sebastian’s smirk turned wicked. "You stole my shirt?" he murmured, voice dropping an octave. "Cute."

"I fucking didn't had my work clothes..plus It’s comfortable," she shot back, lifting her chin. "And it smells nice—not that I care."

Sebastian let out a low chuckle. "Oh, Valarie." His fingers grazed the hem of the shirt, just barely brushing her thigh. "You do care. That’s why you ran."

"I ran because you’re insufferable," she muttered, stepping back—only to realize she had nowhere to go. Damn it.

Sebastian’s gaze darkened, amused. "Mmm. And yet, here I am. Holding the key to your house. In your space. With you wearing my shirt. Tell me, lyubimaya, who really won?"