When the Devil wants you

Chapter 3

My gaze traveled up. Tailored suit that probably cost more than a year of my mom’s medical bills. Broad shoulders that blocked out the streetlight behind him. And then his face.

Jesus Christ.

The most devastatingly handsome and terrifying man I’d ever seen. Not that I’d seen many handsome men in my life. The village didn’t exactly have a lot of options. But this man. This man looked like he’d stepped out of some dark fairy tale where the prince was actually the villain.

Cold gray eyes that seemed to see straight through me. Through my cheap clothes and scraped palms right down to the scared girl underneath. Sharp jawline that could cut glass. And this presence. This weight to him that made the empty street feel crowded. Made the air feel thicker.

He looked at the damage on his car. A long scratch down the side. Then looked at me. His expression didn’t change. Not one muscle moved in his face. But somehow the temperature dropped ten degrees.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

His voice matched everything else about him. Deep. Controlled. The kind of voice that expected obedience.

I scrambled to my feet. My heart was trying to punch its way out of my chest. Palms stinging from where I’d hit the pavement. Elbow throbbing. I was terrified. Absolutely terrified.

But I was also angry. Irrationally angry.

I’d just buried my mother. I was alone in a city that didn’t want me. Living with relatives who looked at me like I was dirt they’d tracked inside. And now this. This man and his stupid expensive car and his judgmental eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. You were going too fast!”

The words came out sharp. Defensive.

His eyebrow raised. Just slightly. Like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Around us I heard gasps. Whispers. When had people appeared? I looked around. A few cars had stopped. People were getting out. Staring at us. At him specifically. Like he was somebody important.

Apparently nobody talked back to this man.

Good for them. I wasn’t nobody.

“I was going too fast.” He said it slowly. Like he was tasting each word. Deciding if they were amusing or insulting. “In a stopped lane. At a red light.”

My face burned hot. s**t. He was right. I was the one who wasn’t paying attention. The one who’d blown through the intersection without looking.

But I couldn’t afford to admit that. Couldn’t afford anything. Including whatever insane repair bill he was about to hit me with. That is if he even wanted me to pay for it. Maybe he’d just call the cops. Have me arrested. Did they arrest people for damaging cars?

“The damage isn’t that bad,” I said. Forcing my voice to stay steady. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Scratch.” He stepped closer.

I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. He was tall. Really tall. And he smelled like expensive cologne and something else. Something dark and dangerous that made my stomach flip.

“Just a scratch you say?” His voice was soft now. Which was somehow worse than if he’d been yelling. “This is a limited edition Bugatti. Do you know how much it costs?”

No. I had no idea. Didn’t even know what a Bugatti was until right now.

“Fine. It’s okay. Stop whining like a child.” The words came out before I could stop them. Frustration bubbling over. “How much is the repair cost?”

He smiled. Actually smiled. And it was the most terrifying thing I’d seen all day. Which was saying something considering I’d watched them lower my mother into the ground this morning.

“To repair it is going to cost around fifty thousand dollars.”

The world tilted.

My mouth fell open. Fifty thousand. That was more than Mom had earned in five years. More than Grandma’s house was worth. More than I’d see in my entire lifetime probably.

“That’s… that’s impossible. It’s just a scratch!”

“Just a scratch.” That ghost of a smile again. “You’re remarkably bold for someone who just damaged my property.”

Something in his tone made my chin lift. Made my spine straighten despite the fear coursing through me.

“To be very honest that price is robbery.”

His smile widened. Sharp as a blade. “Robbery. Interesting choice of words.”

A man in a black suit appeared beside him. Where had he come from? Security maybe. Or an assistant. I couldn’t tell. He leaned in. Whispered something in the terrifying man’s ear.

Those gray eyes narrowed. Studied me more carefully. I felt stripped bare under that gaze. Like he was cataloging every single detail. My wrinkled clothes from the funeral. My scraped hands. My defiant eyes trying so hard to hide how absolutely terrified I was.

“Hey!” I shouted at the man in the suit. Probably stupid. Definitely stupid. But I was too frustrated to care. “Talk to your master or boss or whatever. Tell him fifty thousand dollars for a scratch is daylight… I mean night robbery!”

The suit guy’s eyes widened. Like I’d just committed some unforgivable sin.

The scary man just kept smiling.

“You can’t pay.” Not a question. A statement.

“It’s not even about if I can pay right now.” I was on a roll. Couldn’t stop myself. “This scratch probably just needs paint. And I’m very sure a spray paint job isn’t going to cost anywhere near a hundred dollars. Let alone fifty thousand.”

I pointed at him. Actually pointed. “I should be the one getting paid for damages I received. Not you.”

Silence.

Complete and total silence.

Everyone was staring at me like I’d grown a second head. The suit guy looked like he might faint. A woman watching from her car had her hand over her mouth.

And the terrifying man just looked at me. That smile still playing at his lips.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed.

It was a sound that made my blood run cold. Like when the devil catches prey and knows it has nowhere to run.

“Wow.” He moved. Leaned against his damaged car like he was posing for a photoshoot. All casual elegance despite the situation. “You’re funny. And smart. I’ll give you that.”

Then his face went serious. So fast it gave me whiplash.

“What you need to understand, girl, is I don’t like being in debt.” He moved closer. Each step deliberate. Predatory.

I could feel something shift in the atmosphere. Something heavy and dangerous pressing down.

“So what do you say about taking this twenty thousand for your loss?”

He was holding money. When had that appeared? I hadn’t even noticed the suit guy handing it to him. A thick stack of bills. More money than I’d ever seen in one place.

Twenty thousand dollars.

For scraping my palms and bruising my elbow.

My head spun. This was insane. All of this was insane.

“If you insist.” My voice came out defeated. Small. “I’ll pay for your damages too.”

Where was I going to get that kind of money? How?

“Just keep this money.” I pushed the stack back toward him. My hands were shaking. “So I’m owing you thirty thousand dollars instead of fifty thousand.”

Thirty thousand dollars.

God. That was still a fortune. Should I ask Aunt Margaret? Would she even help me? Would she hold it over my head forever?

“Not bad.” His voice was smooth. Almost amused. “So when are you paying the balance?”

My brain did calculations. Fast panicked calculations. If I got a job. A good paying job. Saved every single penny. Didn’t eat. Didn’t buy anything. Maybe. Maybe in six years I could scrape together thirty thousand dollars.

Six years.

I looked at him. Tried to make my face look innocent. Cute even. Like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Maybe six years?” It came out like a question. Hopeful.

His eyebrow raised again.

“I understand that’s a long time!” I rushed to add before he could respond. “But I don’t have a job currently. And if I do get one I don’t even know if the pay will be good enough and—”

“You have two options.” He cut me off. His voice final. Absolute. “You can come work for me. Or pay within a week.”

What?

Work for him? Pay within a week?

“Wait—”

But he was already moving. Walking back to his car. The suit guy appeared beside me. Pressed something into my hand. A business card. Thick. Expensive. Embossed lettering that caught the streetlight.

Then he was gone too. Getting into the passenger seat.

The car engine purred to life. Smooth and expensive sounding.

And then they were gone. Zooming off down the street like our entire interaction hadn’t just turned my world upside down.

I stood there. In the middle of the road. Holding a business card. My bicycle lying on its side nearby. People still staring.

A job or pay within a week.

Was that even a choice? Obviously I was going to take the job. I didn’t have money anywhere to pay him within a week. Didn’t have money period.

I looked down at the card in my hand.

Black. Silver lettering. Simple and elegant.

Frost Global Enterprises

Raphael Frost, CEO

A phone number. An address downtown.

Raphael Frost.

The name echoed in my head. Why did it sound familiar? Had I heard it somewhere before?

I bent down. Picked up the bicycle. Scraped but still functional. Like me I guess.

My hands were shaking as I climbed back on. Started pedaling back toward the mansion. Toward my temporary prison.

My head felt clearer now. Mission accomplished I guess. Though not in the way I’d intended.

The streets were still empty. Still quiet. But everything felt different now. Changed somehow.

I’d crashed into someone. Someone important apparently. Someone who could demand fifty thousand dollars for a scratch and expect to get it.

And now I was going to work for him.

What kind of work? The card just said CEO. Of what? What did Frost Global Enterprises even do?

Questions spun through my mind. Mixed with the image of those cold gray eyes. That terrifying smile. The way he’d looked at me like he could see straight through to my soul.

Raphael Frost.

I had a feeling I was going to be thinking about that name for a long time.

The mansion gates came into view. Still open. Thank God. I slipped back through. Put the bicycle back in the garage exactly where I’d found it.

The house was still dark and quiet when I crept back inside. Up the stairs. Down the hall. Into my small borrowed room.

I sat on the bed. Looked at the business card again.

l

Tomorrow I’d call. Tomorrow I’d figure out what working for Raphael Frost meant. Tomorrow I’d start whatever insane new chapter of my life this was.

Tonight I just sat there. Holding that card. Thinking about cold gray eyes and dangerous smiles and the way the devil had laughed when he caught me.

I set the card on the nightstand. Next to the photo of Mom and Grandma and me.

“Well Mom,” I whispered to the photo. “You wanted me to have opportunities in the city. I think I just got one. Though I’m not sure if it’s an opportunity or a death sentence.”

The photo didn’t answer. Just stared back at me with Mom’s warm smile. So different from the cold calculating look I’d seen tonight.

I changed back into my sleep shirt. Climbed into bed. Stared at the ceiling.

Sleep still wouldn’t come.

But now instead of thinking about funerals and goodbyes, I was thinking about expensive cars and impossible debts and men who looked at you like they owned you.

Tomorrow I’d call that number. Go to that address. Meet Raphael Frost on his territory instead of in the middle of a dark street.

And God help me, I had no idea what I was walking into.

But I was walking into it anyway.

Because what other choice did I have?

None. I had no choices left.