TAINTED LOVE: RIDING WITH THE DEVIL

SIGN YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL

ISABELLA REYES

Sunday afternoon dragged like a slow nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. I had been locked in Rafael Voss’s penthouse for the entire weekend. My body ached in the most intimate places; reminders of cuffs, spanks, bites, and the relentless way the Reaper had claimed me over and over. I stood by the massive windows overlooking the city, wearing nothing but one of his oversized black t-shirts that smelled like him. The view was breathtaking. The reality was suffocating.

What the hell have I done?

His words from last night kept echoing: I don’t love. I possess. The story of his brutal past, the Iron Fangs gang hunting for any weakness… it all crashed over me. I wasn’t his girlfriend. I wasn’t even his lover, I was a possession – a weekend toy, and when he got bored? He’d toss me aside like garbage, straight into the path of men who would happily use me to hurt him.

I wrapped my arms around myself, second thoughts turning into full-blown panic. This man could snap my life in half. And if he ever discovered I was Isabella Reyes the Ugly Betty from his office, I’d probably disappear for real.

The private elevator dinged. I spun around just as Rafe stepped out, still dressed in last night’s black leathers, looking exhausted and lethal. A stunning young woman followed him; early thirties, sleek dark hair in a perfect ponytail, designer coat over a crisp white blouse, and legs that went on forever. A doctor’s bag hung from her shoulder.

My stomach dropped.

“Rafe?” I asked, voice shaky as I stood up quickly. “Is everything okay? You left with your men last night and… you brought a doctor? Are you hurt?”

He barely glanced at me. His face was stone-cold serious, jaw tight.

“Shower,” he said flatly, already walking past me towards the master suite. “Dr. Elena Moreau will check you.”

“Check me?” My voice cracked. “What do you mean check me?”

He paused at the doorway, not even turning around fully.

“Make sure you’re not pregnant. And ensure you won’t be anytime soon.” Then he disappeared into the bedroom like he’d just ordered coffee.

I nearly collapsed. The floor tilted beneath me.

Dr. Moreau gave me a sheepish, almost pitying smile.

“Shall we sit down, Miss… Bella?”

I sank onto the couch, numb. She disinfected my arm with clinical efficiency and started preparing a syringe.

“You’re not the first girl he’s brought me here for,” she said lightly, as if commenting on the weather. “Rafael Voss, or the Reaper doesn’t do commitments. Men like him never do. They use beautiful girls like you for a weekend, maybe two, then move on to the next one. You seem… different. Sweeter, but trust me, he’ll dump you just like the rest. Then he’ll f**k the next pretty thing who catches his eye.”

Her words landed like knives. Embarrassment burned across my face. Of course. I was nothing special. Just another conquest.

She slid the needle into my arm.

“This is a long-acting contraceptive injection. Highly effective. It’ll prevent pregnancy for the next three months.” She explained the medical details in a detached tone while I sat there frozen, processing the casual humiliation.

When she finished, she packed her kit and stood.

“Rafael will never marry you. He’ll never love you. Enjoy the ride while it lasts.” She gave me one last sympathetic look and left.

I sat there for a minute, staring at the small bandage on my arm. He didn’t even ask me. My secret identity, my insecurities, everything screamed at me to run. But some stupid, awakened part of me didn’t regret the weekend. Rafe had made me feel desired, powerful in my surrender, alive in a way I’d never experienced.

I walked into the master suite just as he stepped out of the shower.

Holy f**k.

Rafe was completely naked, water droplets sliding down his sculpted, inked body. Broad shoulders, defined abs, the massive coiled viper tattoo across his chest, powerful thighs, and his heavy c**k hanging between his legs; still impressive even soft. Wet black hair, stubble, storm-gray eyes… he looked like pure s*x and danger personified.

My mouth went dry. My thighs clenched involuntarily despite everything.

He noticed my reaction immediately. A slow, arrogant smirk curved his lips.

“Like what you see, Bella?”

I cleared my throat, trying to gather my scattered dignity.

“Why didn’t you talk to me first about the shot? About any of this?”

Rafe grabbed a towel and started drying his hair, completely unbothered by his nudity.

“Do you want to carry the devil’s child?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because I don’t want a baby. Not now. Not ever with someone like you. We’re not in a relationship. We’re not in love. I don’t do love. I f**k. I possess. I own. And right now I own that sweet p***y until I decide otherwise.”

The words sliced deep. Tears stung my eyes. I wanted to scream, to slap him, to run. Instead, my stupid body still reacted to his dominance.

After a moment, I whispered,

“Take me home. My best friend Luna is probably losing her mind, and I need real clothes.”

Rafe tossed the towel aside and walked towards me, gloriously naked and dripping.

“No.”

He stopped right in front of me, towering over me. Without asking, he grabbed the hem of the oversized t-shirt I wore and pulled it slowly up and off my body, leaving me completely bare. His gaze raked over my marked breasts, bruised hips, and hickeys like a man admiring his property.

I melted. God help me, I melted. My n*****s hardened instantly under his stare.

“Rafe…” I breathed, voice weak with conflicting emotions; anger, hurt, and fresh, traitorous desire.

He cupped my jaw, tilting my face up. His thumb brushed my lower lip.

“You’re not leaving yet, little girl. I’m nowhere near done breaking you in.” His other hand slid between my thighs, finding me embarrassingly wet already. “See? Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your head is scared.”

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep, possessive kiss that made my knees buckle.

I was trapped and terrified of the man, addicted to the way he destroyed me, and too weak to walk away.

The Reaper wasn’t finished with me yet.

***

Monday morning hit like a freight train. I stirred in the massive king-sized bed that still smelled like s*x, leather, and him. My body protested every tiny movement; thighs sore, hips bruised, a deep ache between my legs that made me wince. Damn you, Rafael Voss. The Reaper had spent most of the night reminding me exactly who owned what.

I cracked my eyes open and froze.

Rafe stood at the foot of the bed, already fully dressed for his billionaire CEO role. He looked devastating. The bespoke suit was charcoal black with a subtle sheen, tailored so perfectly it accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist like a second skin. A crisp white dress shirt underneath, the top two buttons undone just enough to hint at the viper tattoo I now knew intimately. A deep burgundy tie, knotted with ruthless precision. Polished black Oxfords that probably cost more than my rent for a year. His raven-black hair was styled back neatly, that scar through his eyebrow adding a dangerous edge to the polished image.

The cologne hit me next... rich, woody, with notes of dark spice, leather, and something expensive and forbidden. It wrapped around me like a command.

He looked every inch the untouchable Rafael Voss. Nothing like the naked, sweat-slicked devil who had choked and f****d me into oblivion hours ago.

Panic exploded in my chest.

Shit. s**t. s**t. I needed to be at Voss International before him. I had to get home, shower, put on my Ugly Betty armor of baggy clothes, glasses, braces visible, hair in a severe bun, and pretend none of this weekend ever happened.

I bolted upright too fast. My muscles screamed. I hissed in pain and shot him a glare.

“This is your fault. I’m late because you.. because we... ugh!”

Rafe’s storm-gray eyes flicked over my naked, marked body with dark satisfaction.

“You’re not going anywhere yet. I’ll take you home, but first, get dressed. Meet me in my study. We have something to discuss.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He simply turned and walked out.

I scrambled for the oversized t-shirt I’d worn earlier and pulled it on, then hurried after him, barefoot and sore.

.

The study was all dark wood, leather, and power. Rafe stood with his back to me in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands clasped behind him, legs planted shoulder-width apart like a king surveying his kingdom. The morning light carved sharp shadows across his broad shoulders and sharp jawline. He looked impossibly handsome, refined, commanding, and completely in control. It was hard to reconcile this version with the man who had called himself the Reaper while buried inside me.

Without turning around, he spoke.

“There’s a contract on the table. Read it. Then sign it.”

I stepped closer, heart pounding. A thick folder lay open on the massive mahogany desk.

“A contract? For… us?”

He finally turned. Those gray eyes pinned me in place.

“For this situation. I possess you, Bella. But even I prefer things in writing.”

I sank into the leather chair and started paging through the document. It was clinical, cold, and terrifyingly detailed.

Rafe began listing the terms out loud, his voice smooth as velvet and sharp as a blade.

“You do not fall in love with me, ever. This is not a relationship. There are no dates, no public appearances as a couple, no romantic illusions. You do not call or text me unless I initiate contact first. When I do call, you answer within one ring. No exceptions.”

He circled the desk slowly, towering over me as I read.

“You will be available when I want you. Discretion is absolute... you speak to no one about us. You will submit to my rules in the bedroom. No other men, ever.”

I looked up, cheeks burning.

“And the ‘dos’? Because so far this feels like a hostage agreement with orgasms.”

A hint of dark amusement flickered across his face.

“You get exclusivity while I want you. Protection from my enemies, from anyone who might try to use you. Access to this penthouse when I allow it. And financial benefits.”

I flipped another page, sarcasm slipping out despite my nerves.

“Financial benefits? Wow, I feel so special. So I’m basically your secret, on-call, no-strings s*x toy with a non-disclosure clause?”

“Exactly.” He stopped right beside my chair, looking down at me. “Any questions?”

“Yeah,” I said, voice quieter now. “What do I get out of this? Because this contract is clearly what you want. You possess. You control. What’s in it for me besides great s*x and the constant fear of being murdered by bikers?”

Rafe studied me for a long moment. Then he walked closer, towering over my seated form in that perfectly tailored suit. He placed one hand on the back of my chair and leaned down, caging me with his presence. His cologne wrapped around me again.

“You get my protection,” he said, voice low and serious. “The Iron Fangs would tear you apart if they knew you matter to me. With my name behind you, no one touches you. No one harms you.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and slid a sleek black credit card across the table towards me.

“You also get this. Unlimited. Use it for clothes, rent, whatever you want. I will make things happen for you, Bella. Doors you didn’t know existed will open.”

I stared at the card, then back up at him. My mind was a whirlwind; fear, anger, dark temptation, and the painful reminder that I was still hiding who I really was. Ugly Betty couldn’t be seen with this card. Ugly Betty couldn’t even exist in the same universe as this contract.

“This is insane,” I whispered. “You prepared this last night while I was sleeping? Like I’m some business acquisition?”

“I protect my assets.” His fingers brushed my jaw, tilting my face up. “Sign it, Bella. Or walk away right now. But we both know you’re not going to walk away.”

My hand trembled as I picked up the pen. Every insecurity screamed at me. Every rational thought told me to run. But the weekend had awakened something reckless and hungry inside the girl who had spent years hiding.

I looked up at the devastating man in the bespoke suit; the same man who had ruined me so thoroughly and felt the dangerous pull again.

“Fine,” I muttered, signing my name with a shaky hand. “But if I’m signing my soul over to the devil, I expect very good compensation.”

Rafe’s slow, panty-dropping smile returned as he watched me sign.

“That’s my good girl.”

And just like that, I sealed my fate with the most dangerous man in Barcelona.