A Deal With The Devil
1687 Words
Aria's POV
The address Dominic sent me led to a building I'd passed a hundred times but never entered.
Vercetti Tech headquarters stood in the heart of Manhattan, a sleek tower of glass and steel that stretched toward the sky. It screamed money and power. The kind of place where people like me didn't belong.
I stood on the sidewalk across the street, staring up at it, my stomach twisting with nerves.
This was insane. I was actually considering marrying a complete stranger because he claimed he could save my life.
But what choice did I have? Three days left. Three days until the Caruso family came for me and my father.
I crossed the street and walked through the revolving doors.
The lobby was massive, all marble floors and modern art.
A security guard approached me.
"Can I help you, miss?"
"I'm here to see Dominic Vercetti," I said, my voice sounding smaller than I wanted.
He looked me up and down, clearly skeptical.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"He's expecting me. Aria Monroe."
The guard spoke into his radio, then nodded.
"Top floor. Someone will escort you."
Another guard led me to a private elevator. We rode up in silence, my reflection staring back at me from the polished walls.
The elevator opened directly into an office that took my breath away.
Floor-to-ceiling windows covered three walls, offering a view of the entire city. The office was enormous, furnished with dark wood and leather. Everything looked expensive, carefully chosen.
And standing by the window, looking out over the city, was a man.
He turned when he heard the elevator doors open.
Dominic Vercetti.
My breath caught.
He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders that filled out his perfectly tailored black suit. His hair was dark, styled neatly. But it was his eyes that held me frozen. Dark, intense, assessing me with a look that made me feel completely exposed.
He was handsome in a way that was almost intimidating. Sharp jawline, strong features, an air of authority that filled the entire room.
This was a man used to getting what he wanted.
"Miss Monroe," he said, his voice the same deep, controlled tone from the phone.
"Thank you for coming."
I stepped out of the elevator, my legs feeling unsteady.
"You didn't give me much choice."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Not quite a smile.
"Please, sit."
He gestured to a chair in front of his desk.
I sat, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
He moved around the desk and sat across from me, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world.
"I assume you've thought about my offer," he said.
"I don't even know who you are," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
"You call me out of nowhere, claim you can solve all my problems, and ask me to marry you. How do I know this isn't some kind of scam?"
"A fair question." He opened a drawer and pulled out a folder, sliding it across the desk to me.
"This is everything you need to know about your father's debt."
I opened the folder with shaking hands. Inside were documents, official-looking papers with numbers and signatures. My father's name was at the top. Thomas Monroe. Below it, the amount: five hundred million dollars. The Caruso family's name appeared multiple times.
There was also a deadline. Four days from now.
My stomach turned.
"How did you get this?"
"I have connections," Dominic said simply.
"The Caruso family operates in certain circles. I operate in others. Our paths cross occasionally."
"And you just happened to know about my father's debt? About me?"
His eyes never left mine.
"I make it my business to know things that might be useful."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"No," he agreed.
"It doesn't."
I closed the folder and pushed it back across the desk.
"Why would you want to marry me? You're a billionaire. You could have anyone. Why some random girl whose father owes money to the mafia?"
For the first time, something flickered in his expression.
"Let's just say I have my reasons. Reasons that don't concern you."
"They do if you're asking me to marry you."
"Fair enough." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.
"I need a wife. For business purposes. Social appearances. Having a wife makes me look stable, trustworthy. It opens doors that are currently closed to me."
"So hire an actress. Pay someone to pretend."
"I considered that," he said.
"But I need someone who won't ask too many questions. Someone who's desperate enough to agree to my terms without negotiation. Someone who has everything to lose if she refuses."
His words hit me like a slap.
"So you're taking advantage of my situation."
"I'm offering you a solution," he corrected. "Your father owes money he can't repay. The Caruso family will kill both of you. I can make that problem disappear. In exchange, you give me one year of your life."
"One year as your wife."
"In name only," he said.
"You'll live in my home. Attend events with me when necessary. Act the part in public. That's all I require."
"And after a year?"
"We divorce. You walk away with enough money to start over anywhere you want. A clean break."
It sounded too easy. Too simple.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
"There's always a catch."
"The catch is that you'll live by my rules. You go where I say. You don't ask questions about my business. You don't contact anyone from your old life without my permission. Complete obedience for one year."
My hands clenched in my lap.
"So I'd be your prisoner."
"You'd be my wife," he said coldly.
"There's a difference."
"Is there?"
His jaw tightened.
"I'm offering you your life, Miss Monroe. I suggest you consider that before rejecting my terms."
I stood up, anger suddenly flooding through me.
"I'm not for sale. I won't marry a stranger and give up my freedom just because you think you can buy me."
Dominic stood as well, his height making me feel small. But I refused to back down.
"Then what will you do?" he asked.
"Go back to your destroyed apartment? Wait for the Caruso family to find you? Watch them kill your father before they kill you?"
Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them back.
"There has to be another way."
"There isn't." His voice was matter-of-fact, almost gentle.
"You've tried everything. The banks said no. Your boss said no. Your family said no. You have no options left except me."
I hated that he was right.
"I need time to think," I said.
"You have until tomorrow evening. After that, my offer expires."
"And if I say no?"
He walked back to the window, looking out over the city.
"Then I wish you luck. You'll need it."
I turned toward the elevator, my whole body trembling.
"Miss Monroe," Dominic called.
I looked back.
"I'm not a good man," he said quietly.
"But I keep my word. If you agree to this, I will protect you. The Caruso family will never touch you or your father. You have my guarantee."
I didn't respond. I just stepped into the elevator and watched the doors close on his face.
The ride down felt longer than the ride up. My mind was spinning, trying to process everything.
A marriage contract. One year of my life in exchange for survival.
It was insane.
But he was right about one thing. I had no other options.
I walked out of the building and back onto the street. The city moved around me, people rushing past, living their normal lives.
My apartment still looked like a disaster zone. I'd cleaned up some of the glass, but most of the destruction remained.
I made myself a cup of tea and sat on my broken sofa, trying to think clearly.
Marriage to a stranger. Living in his house. Following his rules. Giving up my freedom.
But staying alive. Saving my father. Having a future.
The tea grew cold in my hands as I sat there, staring at nothing.
Night fell. I should have eaten something, but I had no appetite.
I was just about to go to bed when I heard it.
The sound of my front door opening.
Terror shot through me. I'd locked it. I was sure I'd locked it.
Heavy footsteps entered my apartment.
I grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter, my heart pounding.
Two men appeared in my living room. Big, muscular, wearing dark clothes. Their faces were hard, emotionless.
"Aria Monroe?" one of them said.
I backed away, holding the knife in front of me.
"Get out. I'll call the police."
"No, you won't." The man stepped closer.
I ran for the door, but the second man was faster. He grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms. The knife clattered to the floor.
"No! Let me go!" I screamed, struggling against his grip.
The first man pulled out a knife. A real one, bigger and sharper than the one I'd dropped.
He pressed it to my throat.
I froze, feeling the cold metal against my skin.
"Your father owes money," he said, his breath hot on my face.
"Tomorrow is your last day. Unless you pay what he owes, you both die. Understand?"
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
"I said, do you understand?"
I nodded, tears streaming down my face.
"Good." He lowered the knife.
"Tomorrow. Last chance."
They released me and I collapsed to the floor, gasping.
Footsteps. The door opening and closing.
They were gone.
I stayed on the floor, shaking, crying, unable to move.
Tomorrow. They said tomorrow was my last day.
I couldn't die. I couldn't let my father die.
With trembling hands, I grabbed my phone from the floor.
I pulled up Dominic's number and stared at it for a long moment.
I pressed call.
It rang once. Twice.
Then his voice.
"Miss Monroe."
I took a shaky breath.
"I accept your proposal.”
- Writer
