The Devil’s Vote

Three

Miriam's POV

“Have you always had that?” I asked, nodding toward the birthmark.

“Do you like it?” His voice dropped, slow and intimate, sending a shiver straight through me. He leaned in. “Why don’t you come find out?”

My blood turned cold.

I reached for one of the glasses from the six-shot paddle he was carrying and downed it without thinking. Seconds later, the burn slid down my throat, warm and fierce. He watched me closely as I set the empty glass down.

“What?” I snapped, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

“You’ve got two more,” he said, smiling like he already knew how this would end.

My head throbbed faintly, the beginnings of a hangover creeping in. Still, if alcohol could quiet the thoughts of Henry—the unanswered calls, the relentless messages since I'd walked out of his office- I’d take it.

After the shots, the room softened. I found myself laughing too easily, letting the stranger draw me into his plans as if we were old friends. At some point, he took my hand from the table and held it, those eyes locking onto mine again.

“So,” he asked, “what’s your name?”

Heat rushed through me, sharp and sudden, igniting every nerve. When the stranger's fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from my face, it sent a slow pulse of desire that unsettled my balance.

The alcohol gave me courage, or maybe it just stripped away hesitation. I leaned in until our faces were inches apart.

“Why don’t you figure it out?” I murmured, biting my lower lip as I echoed his earlier words.

Something shifted in him. His breathing deepened, his gaze darkened with want. I didn’t look away. I wanted him. I wanted to feel his mouth, to taste him, to forget everything else.

He kissed me without warning, hot and consuming. The world vanished. My body responded instantly, eagerly, and I didn’t resist. I threaded my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, uncaring of who might be watching.

He tossed cash onto the bar, took my hand, and guided me through the crowd toward a side exit.

The elevator ride was a blur of cold walls and heated kisses, his hunger matching my own. His hands roamed, lifting my short gown, pushing my underwear aside as his breath ghosted over my skin, making me gasp.

“Oh, damn,” I cried out as he dropped to his knees, his mouth on my walls, unrelenting. My legs weakened as he devoured me, leaving me trembling and breathless.

When the elevator doors opened, I expected a hallway. Instead, a sprawling luxury suite stood before us, too grand, too unreal. The stranger didn’t hesitate, lifting me and laying me back onto the massive bed. The sheets were impossibly soft.

He shed his jacket and shirt, revealing a body sculpted beneath, and my need for him intensified. He kissed my neck, and a moan slipped free.

“Told you I’d make you feel good,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I breathed, already lost.

“How badly do you want me?”

“So bad,” I admitted, my voice shaking as his fingers brushed between my thighs.

“Hm?” he prompted, sliding two fingers inside me. My body arched as a gasp tore from my lips.

“Yes, please,” I cried as he moved with purpose, driving me higher. He freed himself from his trousers, and when I saw him hard, thick—I sucked in a breath.

He turned me, unzipped my gown, and it slipped away. My bra followed, and his hands closed around my breasts, squeezing before his mouth claimed them. I barely had time to recover before he pushed into me, filling me.

I cried out, unable to stop it.

“God, you’re wet,” he groaned, thrusting deeper, harder. My body trembled, caught between ache and pleasure.

“I’m, oh…I’m coming,” I gasped as heat coiled tight inside me.

“Not yet,” he said, breathless, increasing his pace. The room filled with slick sounds and tangled moans, the bed rocking beneath us. His muscles tightened, and with one final, deep thrust, we shattered together.

He collapsed beside me, both of us breathing hard.

The s*x wasn’t supposed to feel this good. I stared at the ceiling, then at the stranger whose name I still didn’t know, blaming the intensity on the alcohol and the need to escape the day I’d had.

My phone chimed.

Carefully, I slipped from the bed, my body sore and unsteady, and grabbed it from the floor without waking him.

The messages froze me in place.

{Hope you enjoyed your night with that hot man, sister.}

Another followed before I could breathe.

{And you're back home? Father must really love you to keep you in his will.}

The warmth drained from my body all at once. The texts- the timing wasn't a coincidence; someone had been watching me.

I was my parents’ only child, the sole bearer of their hopes and lineage. So, what did she mean by 'sister'?

The word hovered on the screen, needle-sharp, intrusive, impossible to ignore.

I hurried to type a reply, my fingers trembling slightly.

{Who is this?}

The message stalled, hanging in a tense pause before a red notice flashed beneath it.

NOT DELIVERED.

I frowned, my heartbeat quickening, and tried again, my palms sweating.

{Stop playing games.}

But the message failed to send once more.

My pulse raced, frustration swelling in my chest. I tapped the number and pressed call.

The line didn’t ring; It disconnected instantly. A cold, mechanical voice took its place:

‘The number you are trying to reach is unavailable.’

Unavailable?

Not busy. Not switched off.

Just unavailable.

A chilling realization settled in: this wasn’t a real number.

It had to be a masked, spoofed outbound line, an untraceable ghost route, capable of sending messages but never receiving them.

Whoever she was, she never intended for me to reply.

Another message appeared:

[You should be more careful, dear sister. Elevators have cameras.]

My throat tightened.

None of it was random; it was deliberate control. Whoever had been watching made sure I knew I was powerless.

The walls suddenly felt closer, as if pressing in.

‘Ring!’

The vibration jolted through my already frayed nerves. The phone trembled in my hand as the sound sliced through the silence. For a split second, I thought the ghost number was calling back.

It was Henry.

Relief flickered, brief and fleeting…before rage washed over me.

I answered before I could reconsider.

“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” I hissed, voice low to avoid waking the stranger sleeping nearby.

“I will find you, Miriam." Henry’s voice was colder than I’d ever heard. “You can’t run from me. You’re mine. And if I can’t have you, no one will.”

The line went dead.

Silence flooded back in.

I’d heard Henry angry before, possessive, manipulative, but never like that.

I stared across the vast suite, suddenly aware of how large it was.

My heart pounded as a chilling thought took hold: someone might be watching me. Fear gripped me as I crawled back into bed, trembling under the covers. The alcohol dulled my senses, and I soon drifted into uneasy sleep.