Wrong Agreement With The Devil

“This way, Doctor. We made sure he got the best room here. "Starting today, that’ll be your workspace,” Nicholas said, throwing her a quick glance as they walked down the long, spacious hallway. Ashilla followed in quiet steps. A wave of nerves creeping in. It had been so long since she’d done this, met someone, used her hands to touch him. And now, she was doing it again, but for something personal in a private place. “Here it is,” Nick said, his voice lower than before. His soft, handsome face suddenly tightened. As if he was having second thoughts—he wasn’t sure he should be letting a woman like Ashilla walk into that room. Ashilla paused at the doorway. Even from the hallway, she could sense something was off. The air felt heavier here. The light dimmed. Probably this is just the way he wanted it, she guessed. “Does he know I’m coming?” Ashilla asked. Her chest tightened with each beat of her heart. Nicholas hesitates. But the look on his face said everything. “So, he really is terrifying.” She muttered under her breath. “Getting worse every day,” Nick answered. No wonder he’d stood in front of the door for minutes, just to steady himself. He raised a hand and knocked gently. “Morgan,” he called out. “I’m coming in.” “Leave me alone!” He snapped out the second the door creaked open. Nick stopped. His body stiffened with hesitation. “It’s okay. "I’ve got this,” Ashilla offered gently. Her voice was steady despite the tension in the air. Nick gave her a grateful look. “Thanks. Let me know if anything bad happens.” He turned and walked away, leaving Ashilla standing alone at the threshold. Ashilla took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open. The moment it cracked, her nose caught the sharp, overwhelming scent of medicine, tugging her memory back to the hospital halls. As the gap widened, she saw him—a silhouette sprawled across a giant king-sized bed. In the dimming light, he looks like a dangerous man. “I said get out! Are you deaf?” he snapped. “I don’t want to meet anyone. I don’t want any food. No fruit, no sandwiches, or the damn salad. Get all that trash out of here—who the hell are you?” His eyes were narrowed, sharp with something far heavier than anger. Like he was ready to destroy anything that got too close to him. And at that moment, Ashilla Danvers would’ve given anything to be anywhere but here.