Tempting The Devil In A Suit

The club pulsed with energy—flashing lights, the scent of expensive cigars, and the low hum of conversations between the elite. But Dante Knight noticed none of it. His gaze was locked on the stage, his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, untouched. Beneath the golden spotlight, Ariana Vaswani, just 19 years old, stood with a microphone in hand, her voice cutting through the noise like silk laced with fire. She wasn’t just singing—she was feeling every note, every word. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded down her back, and though she wore a simple dress, there was something effortlessly captivating about her. Too raw, too untouched for a place like this. A diamond in a den of wolves. Dante exhaled, rolling the glass in his palm. His dark, piercing eyes never left her. "That’s the one, isn’t it?" Cole Walker, his right-hand man, murmured from the seat beside him. Dante smirked but said nothing. Cole, ever observant, continued, “Ariana Vaswani. Poor girl from Brooklyn. Lives with her boyfriend, Rehaan Kapoor—another struggling musician. Talented, but unlucky.” He took a sip of his drink. “She’s not for sale.” Dante’s jaw tightened slightly. Everything had a price. He watched as she finished the song, her eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for approval. When her gaze flickered in his direction, Dante swore she hesitated. Just for a second. Then, she turned away, bowing slightly as the club erupted in half-hearted applause. Dante placed his glass down, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. “I want her.” Cole sighed. “Of course you do.” --- Backstage, Ariana’s heart was still racing. That man. The way he had looked at her—it wasn’t like the usual drunks who stared too long. His gaze had been calculating, dark, and far too intense. She brushed it off as she hurried toward the bar, where Rehaan was waiting for her. His warm brown eyes lit up the moment he saw her. “You were amazing.” He kissed her forehead, squeezing her hands. “The whole place was spellbound.” She smiled. “I doubt the rich men in suits even noticed me.” Rehaan smirked. “Trust me, someone noticed.” Ariana frowned. “What do you mean?” Subtly, Rehaan tilted his head toward the far end of the club. In the shadows of an expensive VIP booth, the man sat—watching her like a predator who had just found its prey. Ariana shivered. He looked powerful, dangerous. His tailored black suit fit his broad frame perfectly, and everything about him screamed wealth. But there was something else, something unnerving. Rehaan nudged her gently. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” She nodded quickly, allowing him to guide her toward the exit. But as they weaved through the club, she felt it again—that gaze burning into her back. --- Dante watched the couple leave, his expression unreadable. Cole sighed. “I told you. She has a boyfriend.” Dante swirled his drink before setting it down. “Not for long.” Cole tensed. “Dante…” Dante stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “Make the call.” Cole hesitated. “What call?” Dante turned to face him, his voice dark and final. “Take care of the boyfriend.”