A Deal With The Billionaire

A Deal with the Devil

CHAPTER 2

ROSE'S POV

He didn't seem fazed by my rant. He kept his gaze trained on me. I sighed in defeat, my shoulders slouching. There was no doubt; I would lose my job and probably go to jail. So why couldn't I finish what I started? I needed the truth about my sister anyway.

"I am a guest here. I just lost my way while going to the restroom."

"What is your name? I would know if I invited you."

I raised a brow. How cocky of him? With a scoff, I replied, "There are about a thousand guests in attendance, and you're telling me you know them all?"

"Your name." He snapped, although his voice remained low. "Or I call security."

He wasn't impressed by my attempt at making the atmosphere light. So, I returned the energy.

"Lily Sinclair." I watched his eyes slowly light up with shock. That's the first tinge of emotion I had ever seen Damien Sterling show. "How do you know her?"

"What are you talking about?"

"She is my sister. And that's her in the picture." I pointed towards the shards of glass and the photograph on the floor.

Damien shifted his gaze, finally, away from me and towards the floor.

"When I was seventeen," I continued, "she disappeared. But, here she is, next to you, like she is still alive."

"She was my friend."

"Was? You must know she went missing then. Where is she now?" My voice was shaky now, not from tears, but from anger and a desperate need for answers to my years-long questions.

Instead, Damien stepped closer, towering over me like a goddamn tree. "I have accommodated you enough. It's time you get out the door this time, or I call security."

"Or? I bet you have more up your sleeves since you're capable of making people disappear." I didn't know where that courage came from, but it dissipated the second I saw Damien's eyes narrow and his eyes darken.

I took a couple steps back as he approached me, but when my butt hit the desk, I gasped sharply. There was no escape.

Instead, he lowered himself when he was just a few inches away from me. I could practically feel his breath on my skin. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes lowering as if to take in my facial expression. “Out now," he whispered, his voice dangerously low, "or I'll carry you out myself. Trust me, I won't be gentle.

My breath caught. I forgot how to breathe for a minute. What did he mean by that? "What did you do to my sister?"

"Do I have to do a countdown for you?" Our eyes met at his question, and I held my breath for as long as I could. I was afraid any slight movement could make our skin touch, or worse, our lips. So I stood still as I answered.

"Fine," I said. "But trust me, I'll get to the bottom of this." Before I could lose my nerve, I pushed my face closer until my cheek brushed his. "And whatever you're hiding, Mr. Sterling," I whispered, "I'll find out. You have no idea what a journalist with nothing left to lose is capable of.”

Stepping out of his enclosed space, I breathed a sigh of relief. But it didn't last. I felt strong hands grab my arms and turn me around so my back was pressed against a solid body as a napkin was clamped over my nose and mouth. Instincts kicked in as I began to fight him. But it was like fighting against a wall. It was pointless. Soon, I gave in and let the darkness overtake me.

***

When I came to, my eyes caught the tall ceiling, graced by the overhead hanging chandeliers with their golden glow splashing on the white walls. A good part of the walls had landscape paintings hung across from me, golden and bronze ornate decorations were spread on a shelf, and a tall lamp with a mushroom-like top and a wooden stand was placed by my side, and that's when it hit.

It didn't look anything like my own room. I stood quickly but almost regretted it. I felt a banging headache.

"Next time, try not to sit up too quickly after such a long nap." A familiar deep voice came through.

I looked beside me and saw a shadow seated on an armchair by a fireplace, book in hand, a glass of what looked like whiskey in the other.

"What did… what happened?"

"I'm going to skip the pleasantries," his voice went an octave lower as he stood and began to approach the side of the bed. He sat on the edge, his eyes on mine while I breathed erratically.

"I don't know where your sister is. But I believe I can help you find her faster. All you need to do is do something for me."

My brows creased in confusion. What did that even mean? "She was your friend. Of course, you'd know where she is. Is this a trap?"

"Call it what you may. I'll help you if we work together on something."

Me? Work together with Damien Sterling? The devil everyone runs from just proved to me why everyone finds him insufferable.

"What do we work on?"

"You mean, what are we working on?" A beat of silence. Then, he spoke. "We are going to get engaged. I mean, you're going to act like we are engaged. For six months."

"Ha!" I cackled, face blank of expression. Then, a burst of laughter escaped me. While he watched me like I was crazy, I just kept on laughing.

"Are you crazy? I'll be playing house? With you?"

"I'm serious."

Now, that set my head straight. He was absolutely serious. I wanted to say no outright. I wanted to slap the s**t out of him. But the image of my sister being in a dark room, getting sold out to men by some bastards, made me rethink my decision. I straightened my back and exhaled for the longest time.

"I need... I need to sit down and think."

"Great. You have ten seconds to do that."

My head shot up to look at him. He was not giving me time? As if on cue, the door burst open and some girls came in, some of them holding dresses and others holding boxes of what I thought would contain makeup.

How did I go from being a shithead journalist whose career is one mistake from going down the drain to becoming the fiancee of a man I just researched a few days ago? What did I say about being the unluckiest girl alive?