THE DEVIL I LOVE: Bound by power and passion

Life has been… well, shitty. Ever since my father lost everything – his property, his wealth, his pride. We've been scraping to survive. My sister just graduated from high school, full of dreams I can barely afford to support, and I've been working whatever small jobs I can find, trying to keep her dream alive. Trying to keep us alive. Since my Mom left this world, it's been the three of us: Dad, my sister, and me. We went from a life where a full-course meal and dessert was normal, to one where we're counting coins and dinner. Just one night, and everything disappeared. Dad refuses to tell us what happened. Not a word. He keeps saying we'll stand on our feet again. Sinking even deeper. I had just visited my cousin across the country. He said he knew of a job opening at a business firm. I clung to hope, thinking maybe this was my chance to save my family, at least my sister's dreams. Of course, the universe had other plans. I didn't get the job. No money to fly back. My cousin mentioned someone he knows with a boat, sailing to Moscow. It wasn't ideal, but it was something. I took it. The boat was bigger than I imagined. I got to my room, dropped my bag, and let myself slump on the bed for a moment. My body ached, my mind ached. I needed to shake off the day. A cold bath might help, I thought. Maybe wash the bad luck off my skin. I came out, night gown clinging, robe tied loosely, hair dripping. The water had done nothing to calm my nerves. I just wanted to disappear into sleep, maybe pretend this whole year of hell didn't exist. Then it happened. I felt a hard chest pressed against my back. A hand gripped my waist. A mouth pressed into my ear. “Moan for me.” I froze. My breath caught. My pulse skyrocketed. A stranger. Blood and sweat clung to him like a second skin. A gun rested against his side. His eyes were sharp, dangerous, untamed. My night gown felt like nothing– like I had no armor at all. “Moan for me, or I will make you. “His voice was ice and fire at the same time. He stepped closer, hands brushing the straps of my gown. He tugged. My chest heaved. Fear twisted something else in me that I didn't recognize. “Why…?” I managed to whisper. He didn't answer with words. He pulled off his blood-stained jacket, grabbed my wrist, sat on the bed, and tugged me onto his lap. I straddled him, heart hammering, hands trembling. “Because they're looking for me,” he said, low, sharp. “And if you scream, we both die.” “So moan,” he repeated. Calmer this time. Worse. He slipped off my robe. I was left in my night gown, vulnerable, exposed. “I don't—” my voice shook. “I don't know how.” His eyes flickered at the door. Angry men shouting outside, heavy boots. The footsteps outside grew louder. He dipped his face into my shoulder, teeth grazing my skin. Hands on my thighs, pulling me closer. My body betrayed me. I trembled. Heart thundering. The smell of blood, sweat, and danger made me dizzy. Someone slammed into a door. “Check every room,” a man shouted.” My mind screamed run, hide, fight. He didn't give me the chance. “Relax,” he murmured. “Now move.” Hands firm, guiding me. A sound tore from me. Not intentional. Not wanted. Moans, strangled and sharp, spilling out despite myself. My body had a mind of its own. Fear, shame, confusion… and something else tangled inside me. The door exploded open. Three men stormed in. Guns raised. Rage and panic etched across their faces. “Where is he?!” one yelled. I froze. I tried to shrink into him, but his grip tightened– not painful. Just enough to remind me I wasn't in control. “Leave my room!” I snapped, my voice stronger than I felt. “Can't you see I'm busy?" Get out!” The men hesitated. “Well, damn,” one muttered. “Wrong timing.” “He's not here. Let's go,” another said. Boots echoed as they left. I scrambled off him, chest heaving. I quickly picked up my robe, clutching the edge like they could somehow shield me from the chaos. “That… was good acting,” he said, leaning back, smirking, with blood on his jaw. “You broke into my room,” I said, my voice trembling. “With a gun.” “Yes.” “You scared me.” “Yes.” “You harassed me.” “Seemed like you enjoyed it,” he said, tone amused, teeth flashing. “Who are you?” I demanded. He slung his jacket over one shoulder, turned towards the door. “You don't want to know,” he said. Just before leaving, he glanced back. “Melodious moan, by the way.” Then he was gone. I quickly ran to lock the door. I sank into my bed, hugging my knees. My heart wouldn't calm down. My mind was spinning. Who was he? Why did he barge into my room like that? Why were they hunting him down? Why did my body… react? My mind rambled with questions I didn't have answers to. The shouting had died down, but I felt like my chest was tight. My day had already been awful, and now… this. My bad day had just turned into the worst night of my life. An experience I didn't ask for. How many more does the universe have in store for me?