THE DEVIL'S BARGAIN
974 Words
I froze. Were they killing someone inside? My mind screamed at me to run and never look back, but my heart reminded me of my mother. For her sake, I had to stay. I had to face this.
I took a shaky breath, ready to knock. But before I could, the heavy door creaked open. Two guards stepped out, dragging a body bag. The shape inside left no doubt—it was a person. My stomach twisted, and bile rose in my throat.
“Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here? Who let you in?” One guard barked.
“I—I… the gate was open, and I—” I stuttered.
“Shut up. You’re a terrible liar. Intruder! Cuff her!” the other ordered.
Before I could move, two more men rushed out, clamping cold metal around my wrists. I pleaded, begged them to let me go, but they dragged me inside and threw me to the floor.
My body ached, but my pride flared hotter. “How dare you throw me on the ground like that? Do you even know who I am? I should slap each and every one of you!”
A deep, amused voice cut through the room.
“Well, well, well… who dares to make threats in my house?”
I turned—and froze.
A man stood there, tall and impossibly handsome, his eyes a piercing blue that felt like they could read my soul. His lips were flushed pink, his face sharp and flawless like a Greek god. In one hand, he held a bloodied handkerchief, casually wiping crimson from his knuckles as if it meant nothing.
I swallowed hard.
“Sir, is this how you treat your clients? Very unprofessional,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt.
He studied me, saying nothing, then stepped closer. His fingers brushed against my lips, tracing them as though he were memorizing their shape. His breath smelled faintly of mint, and the closeness made my chest tighten.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “They clearly don’t know who you are. So tell me, miss… who are you?”
“My name is Aria,” I whispered, locking my gaze with his.
He tilted his head. “No. Your full name.”
The way he loaded his gun with a sharp click made my insides churn. I swallowed hard. “Aria Gabriella Russo.”
“Gabriella…” His voice lingered on my middle name, tasting it. “What brings you here… alone?”
“I came to speak with Mr. Romano. Could you please call him out? It’s urgent.”
The corners of his lips curled, and suddenly, the guards laughed. They stopped just as suddenly when he raised his hand.
“You have no idea, do you?”
“Look, sir, I don’t have time for this,” I snapped. “Are you going to call your boss, or not? If this is about the body I saw outside, I won’t say a word. That’s none of my business.”
He chuckled darkly. “Bold. I like that.” His gaze burned into me. “But let me save you the trouble. I am the man you’re looking for. Rafael Dante Romano, at your service.”
My stomach dropped. I’d expected scars, tattoos—something monstrous. Instead, he was perfection carved in flesh, and somehow, that was even more terrifying.
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered. “If I had known, I would have spoken more politely. Mr. Romano, I… I need a loan.”
His expression hardened. “What? A loan? Do I look like a bank to you?” His words cut sharp.
“No, sir. But this is serious. You’re my only option. My mother is sick—she’ll die if I don’t pay her bills. Please.”
“And why should I care? You don’t know me, girl. Why make me your last resort?”
I dropped to my knees, pressing my hands together. My pride burned, but desperation screamed louder. “Please, Mr. Romano. I’m begging you. Hear me out.”
He watched me for a long moment, then walked to his chair and poured himself whiskey. He sipped it slowly, eyes never leaving me, as though he enjoyed watching me break.
“And how exactly do you plan to repay me, Gabriella?” he asked finally.
“I’ll work, I’ll save—I’ll get you your money before you even notice it’s gone,” I said, my voice trembling but firm.
He chuckled. “You really think you can pay me fifty thousand dollars in a month? Naïve.”
“If I have to, I will.”
His smirk deepened. “Stand up, then. Sit closer. I don’t like yelling.”
I obeyed, moving closer until I was practically in his shadow. My heart pounded as he leaned in.
“I’ll pay your mother’s bills,” he said.
Relief washed over me. “Thank you! You don’t know what this means—”
He cut me off. His voice turned to steel. “I wasn’t finished. I don’t want your money, Gabriella. I don’t need it.”
Confusion struck me. “What do you mean? You… you want to sleep with me?” I asked, disgust curling in my throat.
His eyes darkened. “No. I would never force myself on you. I’ll only take what you agree to.”
“Then what?”
He leaned closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “I don’t want Aria Gabriella Russo in my bed. I want Aria Gabriella Romano.”
My breath caught. “What?”
“You heard me. Marry me, Gabriella. Give me an heir. That is my price.”
I froze, the weight of his words crushing me like chains.
- Writer
