Chapter 1: A Deal With The Devil
1533 Words
“Listen up, everyone!”
The sharp voice of Mr. Whitman, the manager of The Silver Holly, echoed through the restaurant as the staff gathered in the backroom. “Today’s not just any day, today's going to be hectic, and I want all of you on your toes. No mistakes, no delays. We’ve got some of the most influencial high-profile clients in New York City dinning with us, and if any of you screw this up, you’ll be out before the day ends. No excuses”
Jasmine Withers adjusted her apron, suppressing a groan. It was the same speech every time high-profile guests were expected, but today Mr. Whitman seemed even more on edge.
“The Silver Holly is known for its excellence,” he continued, pacing in front of the staff. “I don’t care if you’re serving water or a five-course meal—everything must be perfect. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the team chorused.
Jasmine Withers, standing at the back of the room, exchanged a glance with her co-worker, Lucy. “No pressure,” she whispered sarcastically.
“Jasmine!” Mr. Whitman snapped, his eyes narrowing as they landed on her. “Are you paying attention, or are you planning to mess this up like last week when you nearly spilled wine on Senator Graves?”
Jasmine’s cheeks burned. “I’m paying attention, sir.”
“Good. Table six is your responsibility tonight. It’s one of our regulars—Mr. Chad Blackstone.” His tone carried a mix of warning and reverence. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
The room went silent at the name. Everyone knew who Chad Blackstone was—the elusive young billionaire, known as much for his wealth as for his icy demeanor. A man who never smiled and whose presence demanded perfection.
Jasmine frowned. “Tall, cold, looks like he walked out of a GQ magazine?”
“That’s the one,” Whitman said.
“Don’t mess this up, You don’t get a second chance with someone like him” Whitman added, pointing directly at her. “You’ve got one job: make him happy.”
“Got it,” Jasmine muttered under her breath, her stomach tightening at the thought of serving a man with a reputation for being impossible to please.
---
The restaurant opened its doors to the city’s elite, and the festive atmosphere buzzed with energy. Garlands of holly and twinkling lights adorned every corner, twinkling fairy lights lined the windows, and a towering Christmas tree adorned the corner. Holiday music played softly in the background. The smell of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint chill of December air each time the door opened and customers trickled in, bringing with them the crisp scent of winter.
Jasmine adjusted her apron and moved to her station, she moved swiftly between tables, her polished smile firmly in place as she catered to the early guests. Her gaze flicked toward the entrance when the door opened, and a hush fell over the restaurant.
Chad Blackstone had arrived.
The man exuded an aura of authority that silenced even the most boisterous diners. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing gray eyes scanned the room with a cold intensity and expression that suggested he owned it, and when his gaze landed on Jasmine, it stayed there making her heart skip.
She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to busy herself with a menu, but she could feel his eyes on her as he was led to table six by the hostess.
Her steps faltered. The intensity of his stare made her pulse quicken, and she felt as though he could see right through her. Why is he staring at me like that?
“Jasmine, table six. Now,” Whitman barked from across the room, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Swallowing hard, she grabbed her notepad and forced a smile as she approached his table. “Good afternoon, Mr. Blackstone. Welcome to The Silver Holly. What can I get for you today?”
His eyes met hers, and for a moment, she felt pinned under his gaze. His voice was smooth but cold. “Black coffee. And the steak, medium rare.”
“Of course, sir,” Jasmine said, jotting it down. She turned to leave but paused when he spoke again.
“Make sure it’s quick,” he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Jasmine hurried to the kitchen, shaking off the unease that clung to her. She didn’t know what it was about him, but something about the way he looked at her felt different.
When she returned with his order, Chad was sitting back in his chair, one hand casually resting on the table, the other scrolling through his phone. He barely acknowledged her as she set the plate and coffee before him.
“Is there anything else you need, sir?”
“Yes. Sit.”
Jasmine blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
He looked up, his gray eyes locking onto hers. “Sit. Across from me.”
Hesitating, she glanced around, noticing a few curious stares from other tables, making her even more uncomfortable.
“Mr. Blackstone, I don’t think—”
“I wasn’t asking,” he cut her off, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
She glanced toward Mr. Whitman, who gave her a subtle nod of approval—or perhaps warning.
Swallowing her nerves, Jasmine sat down, her notepad still in her hand as if it could shield her from the intensity of his gaze.
Chad leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “You’re Jasmine Withers. Twenty-three years old. You’ve worked here for two years. You’re known for being diligent and… unapproachable.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you—”
“I make it my business to know the people I deal with,” he said simply, cutting into his steak with precision.
“I don’t understand,” Jasmine said, her voice tinged with frustration. “What is this about?”
Chad took a bite of his steak, chewed slowly, then set his utensils down. His expression didn’t change. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek black notebook. “I need you to pretend to be my fiancée.”
Jasmine stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, his tone as cold as his gaze. “I need someone to act as my fiancée for the next few months.”
Her laugh came out sharp and incredulous. “And what made you think that person is me? You think I’m just going to drop everything to play along with your ridiculous charade?”
“I’ll pay you,” he said simply, as though that explained everything.
“Sorry, I’m not for sale,” she shot back, pushing her chair back to stand.
“What do you want, then?” Chad asked, his voice cutting through her frustration. “Name your price.”
Jasmine hesitated, the challenge in his tone stopping her.
“What’s something you want more than anything else? Money? Connections? A new career?” Chad asked, his eyes narrowing.
Her heart pounded as she thought of her mother lying in a hospital bed. The bills were piling up, and no matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. This deal could change everything.
Jasmine hesitated, weighing her options. She had no intention of entertaining this man’s absurd proposal, but his confidence was unnerving—and intriguing.
She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Fine. If you’re serious, she looked up at him, her voice steady. “My mother needs treatment. Her hospital bills have accumulated, and the cost of her surgery is beyond what I can afford. If you can take care of that… we have a deal.”
Chad’s expression didn’t change. “Done.”
Her mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”
Chad leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “I don’t waste time on jokes. You’ll receive a bonus as well. Consider it compensation for your time.”
Her throat tightened. She hadn’t expected him to agree so easily.
Jasmine’s mind raced. This had to be some kind of prank. But the look in his eyes told her he was serious
“I’ll have the paperwork sent to you tonight,” he said, standing abruptly and tossing his napkin onto the table. “You’ll be contacted with further instructions. Think about it properly.” He slid a business card across the table before walking away.
Jasmine stood as well, unsure what to do or say. “Wait—”
But Chad was already walking away, his stride purposeful and unhurried.
She looked down at the business card still in her hand, the weight of his offer sinking in. As his figure disappeared through the restaurant doors, leaving his meal half-touched, Jasmine sat back down, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
What had she just agreed to?
Had she just made a deal with the devil?
- Writer
