TAINTED LOVE: RIDING WITH THE DEVIL

THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR

ISABELLA

I sank deeper into the lukewarm bathwater, letting it lap over my sore, marked body. The day had been an absolute nightmare; possibly the worst Monday in the history of Mondays.

My neck still ached from where Rafe had nearly choked the life out of me in that holding room, my cheek throbbed from Megan’s slap, and my pride? That was scattered in pieces across the executive floor and the boutique.

What the hell was I thinking?

The weekend with Rafael — with the Reaper, should never have happened. If I hadn’t let Luna drag me out, if I hadn’t melted under his touch like a pathetic, horny i***t, today would have been normal. Painful, yes, because he always humiliated me, but normal. Now I was trapped in this insane double life, playing both his secret s****l submissive and his mocked, invisible assistant.

I touched the dark hickeys on my neck. He had noticed them, he had stared. For one terrifying second in his office, I thought he’d figured it out. But then he’d looked… uncomfortable. Almost shaken.

My heart raced again just thinking about it. What if he had seen something in my eyes when he choked me? What if he suspected? The way he defended me at the boutique, the way he told them to give me anything I wanted… it didn’t make sense unless some part of him had connected the dots.

A sharp knock on the apartment door snapped me out of my spiral.

I rolled my eyes.

“Luna, I swear to God,” I muttered, climbing out of the tub. “You always forget your keys.”

I wrapped a thin white towel around my dripping body, barely covering my ass and breasts, and shoved my glasses onto my wet face. Water trailed down my legs as I padded barefoot across the tiny apartment, still grumbling.

“Seriously, how many times do I have to tell you—”

I yanked the door open mid-sentence, and froze. Rafael Voss stood in the doorway like he owned the entire building. Still in that charcoal suit from earlier, looking tall, broad, and devastatingly handsome. His storm-grey eyes dropped instantly to my barely-covered body; wet skin, towel clinging to my curves, droplets running down my cleavage and thighs.

His reaction was immediate and raw.

His jaw tightened,his gaze darkened with unmistakable hunger as it raked over me slowly and possessively. He zeroed in on the swell of my breasts threatening to spill from the towel, then lower to where the hem barely covered the tops of my thighs. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed. For a split second, the dangerous, controlled CEO looked like he wanted to rip the towel off and take me right there against the doorframe.

Then confusion flickered across his face.

“What the hell are you doing here, Reyes?” he asked, voice low and rough.

My stomach plummeted. I stepped back instinctively, clutching the towel for dear life as water dripped from my hair onto my shoulders.

“I… I live here,” I squeaked.

He stepped inside without invitation, pushing the door shut behind him with one hand. The small apartment suddenly felt claustrophobic with his presence. He looked around briefly, clearly unimpressed, before his eyes returned to my half-naked, dripping form.

I was painfully aware of how the towel stuck to my body, outlining every curve. My n*****s had hardened from the cool air and his intense stare.

“Where’s Bella?” he demanded, eyes narrowing.

Shit. s**t. s**t!

I swallowed hard, brain scrambling for an escape.

“Bella? You mean… my sister?”

He raised a dark eyebrow.

“Sister?”

“Yes,” I lied quickly, nodding way too fast. “My twin sister. We have the same name, actually. Isabella and… Isabella. Our parents weren’t very creative. She’s staying with me for a bit.”

Rafael stared at me for a long, heavy moment. I could practically see the calculations running behind those stormy eyes. He looked so unusually thrown off balance; the great Rafael Voss, confused and suspicious. It would have been funny if I wasn’t two seconds away from a heart attack.

“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, stepping closer, “that the woman I spent the entire weekend f*****g is your twin sister?”

The casual way he said “f*****g” sent heat rushing between my legs even as terror clawed up my spine. I clutched the towel tighter, painfully aware that I was standing there almost naked in front of the man who had ruined me in every delicious way possible.

“What!? You... and my sister?,” I whispered, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “She… she mentioned meeting someone. I didn’t realise it was you.”

He was so close now I could smell his cologne... that rich, dark, masculine scent that made my knees weak. His eyes dropped again to my cleavage, then to the hickeys he’d left on my neck that were now fully visible.

The air between us grew thick, heated, and dangerous.

Never in a million years did I think I’d see Rafael Voss looking this unsettled. Or that I’d be standing in my crappy apartment in nothing but a towel while lying straight to his face.

And the worst part?

Some deranged, horny part of me was getting turned on by the danger.

***

RAFAEL

What the f**k is this?

I stood frozen in the doorway of that pathetic little apartment, staring at Isabella Reyes like I’d never seen her before.

She was dripping wet, wrapped in nothing but a flimsy white towel that barely covered her ass and clung desperately to her full, heavy breasts. Water ran in rivulets down her neck, over her collarbone, and between her t**s. Her hair was loose and wet, framing her face in dark strands. Those thick glasses should have ruined the image, but they didn’t. They made her look strangely innocent and fuckable at the same time.

My c**k hardened instantly.

This was Reyes? The same woman I’d mocked this morning for dressing like a retired librarian?

The towel had slipped slightly on one side, revealing the soft curve of her hip and the edge of one of the hickeys I’d left on Bella’s neck just yesterday. My marks. On her skin.

A violent wave of lust slammed into me, followed immediately by sharp, uncomfortable suspicion.

No... Impossible.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, watching her clutch the towel like it was body armor. Her cheeks were flushed, n*****s visibly hard under the thin fabric. She looked terrified… and aroused.

“Where’s Bella?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

Her answer hit me like a slap.

“My twin sister.”

Twin sister.

I stared at her, calculating. The eyes behind those glasses... wide, panicked, pleading — were the exact same eyes that had looked up at me while I had my hand around her throat in the boutique. The same eyes that had begged so beautifully when I f****d Bella senseless all weekend.

My d**k twitched again, painfully.

This doesn’t make sense.

I didn’t believe in coincidences. Not ever. The hickeys were identical, the voice had the same husky edge when she was nervous, and the way she trembled under my stare felt too f*****g familiar.

And yet… Reyes had always been invisible. Frumpy, quiet, braces, and baggy clothes. The kind of woman I would never look at twice.

Now I couldn’t stop looking.

Internal war raged inside me.

She can’t be Bella. Bella was confident, sensual, surrendered beautifully to every filthy thing I did to her. Bella wore that short black dress like sin. Bella dripped for me in the back of my car.

But the woman standing in front of me in a towel was making my blood run hot in a way I hadn’t expected. The contrast f****d with my head — the innocent, mousy assistant suddenly looking like a wet dream I wanted to ruin.

I hated it.

I didn’t do complications. I didn’t do feelings. The contract I made Bella sign was supposed to prevent exactly this kind of mess. Possession and control. Nothing more. Yet here I was, in my assistant’s shitty apartment, rock hard because she was half-naked and lying to my face.

I stepped closer, invading her space. She backed up until her back hit the wall, still gripping that towel like her life depended on it. The movement made her breasts push together. I could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“You expect me to believe you have an identical twin sister,” I said slowly, voice low and dangerous, “who just happens to have the exact same name as you… and the exact same marks on her neck that I put there this weekend?”

Her breath hitched. Those familiar eyes widened behind the glasses.

I wanted to rip the towel off. I wanted to bend her over the couch and f**k her until she confessed the truth. I wanted to punish her for making me feel this unsettled.

But another part of me; the cold, calculated Reaper warned me to stay back.

If she is Bella… she lied to me.

That thought sent a dark thrill through me. The idea of punishing her for that lie was dangerously tempting.

I reached out and brushed a wet strand of hair off her shoulder, letting my fingers graze her skin. She shivered hard.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Reyes,” I murmured, my voice dropping into the Reaper’s register. “Whether you’re her, or she’s really your sister… I don’t like secrets. And I really don’t like being lied to.”

My gaze dropped to her lips, then lower to where the towel struggled to contain her body. I wanted her. I wanted Bella.

And the terrifying realisation was slowly sinking in; they might be the exact same woman.

I stepped back abruptly, clenching my jaw.

“Get dressed,” I ordered, turning away before I did something reckless. “We’re not done talking about this.”

The conflict tore at me as I waited.

I didn’t catch feelings. I didn’t get obsessed.

But right now, standing in this shitty apartment with my c**k aching and my suspicions screaming, I couldn’t tell who I wanted more; the sensual, surrendering Bella who had signed my contract…

…or the trembling, lying, unexpectedly tempting Isabella Reyes standing behind me in nothing but a towel.

And that uncertainty pissed me off more than anything else.