Page 77 of Devil’s Reign

And I didn’t realize how much I had missed it until now. Trees line the street, their branches framing the neat roofs of brownstones, and far beyond them, a thin strip of the Hudson River glitters in the sunlight. The city feels alive, right there in front of me, and I can’t stop staring.

I take the seat Denis gestures to, while my guards settle at a table just behind me, their presence heavy, but not enough to ruin the moment. I turn to face the city and breathe in, slow, steady. This isn’t freedom. I know what it is. But it’s the closest I’ve had in weeks, and I’m choosing to be grateful for it.

Denis personally delivers my breakfast and waits with barely concealed anticipation while I take the first bite. It’s delicious, as always, and I tell him so.

He lights up like I’ve made his entire day. "You’re welcome to come down here whenever you like,” he says eagerly. “Send me requests, special orders, anything at all. It would be my absolute pleasure to serve you."

I smile politely, but my attention has already started drifting. The food is amazing—my senses are practically singing with every bite—but I haven’t forgotten the real reason I came down here this morning. So while I eat, my eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the layout. Placement of doors. Hallways leading to restrooms. Corners someone might slip through unnoticed. Anything that could become an escape route this weekend.

After eating, I excuse myself to use the restroom, and Boris rises from his table.

“I’ll just be a moment,” I say pleasantly. He comes anyway and stations himself outside the door as I go inside to wash my hands. I glance up at the window above the sink out of instinct, but it’s too tiny. No chance I could squeeze through that. Great… How the hell am I supposed to sneak out of this place if a bodyguard follows me even to the restroom?

A low murmur of voices drifts in from the hallway. I quickly dry my hands and step out. A woman is standing there, flushed and sharp-eyed, squaring off with Boris, who is doing his best impression of an immovable object.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, voice carrying a note of arrogant authority. Damn, Vanya is rubbing off on me.

She scowls at me. “This man here was blocking the entrance to the restroom. The female restroom. And he refused to budge. I was just about to call management.”

I toss a glance at Boris, who stands with his jaw clenched tight and says nothing—which, honestly, is the most Boris response imaginable.

“Sorry about that,” I tell the woman, stepping aside and opening the door for her. She huffs, lifts her chin, and sweeps inside. Once she’s gone, I turn to Boris. “Next time you don’t have to come with me to the restroom.”

Hesitation flashes through his eyes, but he nods in agreement. “That might be best.”

My lips twitch. No, I can’t smile yet. But shit, I’m so happy that opportunity just fell into my lap.

As we make our way back into the restaurant, I spot an emergency exit door at the end of the hallway and casually commit it to memory. Escape route secured. I’m playing the long game, not the short one.

When we reach my table, the other men are already on their feet. Apparently, breakfast is officially over, and it’s time to leave. I drag my feet as we head towards the lobby, reluctant to return to my gilded cage just yet.

“What else does this building even house?” I ask. “It can’t just be hotel rooms and a restaurant.”

Kieran lights up. “Oh, not even close. Korona has a lot to—” He catches Boris’s sideways look and stops. I frown at him, and he glances away, clearing his throat.

“Go on.” I fix Kieran with my most encouraging smile, and he crumbles.

“There’s a retail store on the ground floor—clothes, bags, shoes. A souvenir shop, too. The second floor has a ballroom and banquet halls, and then a whole conference level. Above that is a lounge with a pool, spa, gym, and café. The higher floors are the hotel rooms, suites, and a small club lounge."

I blink. “And Vanya owns the whole building?” He must be rich, rich.

“He owns the building, the restaurant, and the hotel,” he answers. “The other spaces he leases out.”

The thought of going back upstairs to sit in the suite all day—reading again like I have for the past few weeks—makes my skin itch. Especially now that I know there’s more to see. I take a moment to gather the right words. “I want to explore.” I direct that at Boris, who seems to be the one in charge.

He exchanges a look with the other two. Then, to my surprise: “I suppose there’s no reason not to.”

I almost hug him. But I restrain myself at the last second and settle for a bright, grateful smile instead. Since we're still on the ground floor, we start our tour there, heading first to the retail store. A luxury retail store—probably where my new wardrobe came from.

I wander between racks of designer clothes, run my fingers over expensive bags I could never afford myself, and try on a pair of oversized sunglasses in front of a small mirror the attendant hands me.

The souvenir shop next door has all the charm of an airport gift shop at four times the price. I nearly choke when I see the cost of a miniature snow globe, which earns me an amused look from the attendant.

I smile politely and keep browsing—until something on one of the middle shelves catches my eye. An elegant, slender-necked vase. Exactly the right shape for the roses. I’m still reading the price when Boris materializes beside me and takes it out of my hands.

“Boris—”

“It’s perfect for your flowers,” he says, and before I can protest, he walks it straight to the register and pays for it. Seconds later, the vase is wrapped and handed back, and Boris passes the package to Alan, who carefully cradles it in his arms. I look at him, and he simply looks away, like he didn’t just do something unexpectedly kind.