The Devil’s Bargain
1023 Words
Kael’s POV
3:00 AM | Archer Tower Penthouse
The city sprawled beneath Kael like a circuit board, its lights bleeding into the predawn haze. He swirled a glass of bourbon, the ice long melted. The pill bottle in his desk drawer taunted him. *Take one for anxiety. Two for oblivion.*
He never took three.
“Sir.” His head of security, Viktor, materialized in the doorway. “She’s in the car.”
Kael’s thumb brushed the emerald necklace in his pocket. “And the sister?”
“St. Mary’s Hospital. Stage four cystic fibrosis. No insurance.” Viktor’s tone sharpened. “The girl’s been forging IDs for years—Eva Morales, Selene Voss, half a dozen aliases. Interpol has a file on her.”
“But no arrests.”
“She’s careful. Or lucky.”
Kael smirked. *Not anymore.*
His phone lit up with another headline: **“ARCHER’S SLAP SCANDAL SPARKS STOCK DROP!”** The board’s threats hummed in his skull. *Clean up this mess or lose the CEO chair.*
He downed the bourbon. “Send the offer to St. Mary’s. Double the donation.”
“And if she refuses?”
Kael’s smile turned feral. “She won’t.”
Selene’s POV
3:30 AM | Brooklyn Alley
Rain soaked through Selene’s dress as Kael’s limo idled, its engine purring like a predator. The necklace swung from his fingers, a green-eyed serpent.
“Get in,” he said.
She didn’t move. “Go to hell.”
“Already there, darling.” He tossed the necklace onto the seat. “But you’re coming with me.”
Her lungs burned. *Luna’s coughs. The hospital bills. The way her sister’s ribs jutted like shipwrecks.*
“What do you want?”
“Six months. Pretend to be my fiancée. Smile for the cameras. Play nice.”
“Or?”
He leaned into the light. The slap mark still bloomed on his cheek. “Or I hand this necklace to the police and let your sister die.”
Selene’s knees buckled. She caught herself on the limo’s door. “Why?”
His gaze flickered—a c***k in the ice. “I need a martyr. Someone to make me look… human.”
“You’re not human.”
“No.” He gripped her wrist, pulling her into the car. “But you’ll make me seem like one.”
The door slammed.
The Deal
The limo smelled like leather and betrayal. Selene huddled against the window, Kael’s heat radiating across the seat.
“Sign this.” He slid a contract toward her.
She scanned the clauses. *$500,000 upon completion. Full payment for Luna’s transplant. Criminal immunity.* Her throat tightened. “What’s the catch?”
“No lies. No running. No *touching* me unless I say so.”
“You’re insane.”
“And you’re out of options.” He pressed a pen into her hand. “Sign. Or I walk away.”
Luna’s voice echoed in her head. *“Promise you’ll fight, Evie.”*
Selene scribbled her name—*Eva Morales*—and threw the pen. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” He tapped the privacy screen. “Viktor. Take us home.”
4:15 AM | Archer Tower Penthouse
The elevator soared to the 90th floor. Selene’s reflection glared back—mascara smudged, hair wild, Kael’s smirk burning holes in her periphery.
“Rules,” he said. “You live here. Attend every event. Wear what I choose. And *never* mention Manila.”
“Or what?”
He caged her against the elevator wall, his breath warm on her neck. “Or I’ll make you wish I’d let you rot in jail.”
The doors opened.
His penthouse was a tomb of glass and steel. Cold. Soulless. A locked door at the end of the hall drew her eye.
“My office,” Kael said. “You go in there, I break your legs.”
“Charming.”
He tossed her a keycard. “Your room’s upstairs. Try to steal anything, and I’ll know.”
The First Night
**Selene’s POV**
The guest room was bigger than her entire apartment. Silk sheets. A chandelier. A balcony overlooking Central Park.
*Luna would love this view.*
Her chest ached. She dialed the hospital.
“St. Mary’s ICU,” a nurse answered.
“Luna Morales. Is she—”
“Transplant’s scheduled. Thanks to Mr. Archer’s donation.”
Selene’s knees gave out. She slumped against the bed. *He kept his word.*
For now.
A knock. Kael stood in the doorway, holding a dress. “Wear this tomorrow. We’re announcing the engagement at noon.”
It was blood-red. Of course.
“What’s your game, Archer?”
He stepped closer. “You’ll find out.”
“Or maybe I’ll find *this*.” She snatched the keycard from his pocket—the one labeled *PRIVATE*.
He grabbed her wrist, twisting. “You’re playing with fire, Eva.”
“Then burn me.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. For a heartbeat, the air crackled.
Then he shoved her away. “Don’t test me.”
**Kael’s POV**
The safe in his office hummed as he opened it. Inside: a wedding ring. A faded photo. A bullet casing.
*Clara’s laughter. Gunfire. Blood on his hands.*
He slammed the safe shut.
His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: **She’s in your bed. But not for long.**
Kael froze.
The cameras.
He pulled up the feed. Selene paced her room, the red dress crumpled on the floor. Safe. Alone.
But someone else was watching.
The Camera
**Selene’s POV**
The shower scalded her skin. She scrubbed until it hurt, trying to erase Kael’s grip, his smell, his *heat*.
*Focus. Get the money. Save Luna. Survive.*
She toweled off, froze.
A red light blinked in the air vent.
*A camera.*
Her blood turned to ice. Someone had watched her undress.
Kael? Or something worse?
She yanked a sheet from the bed, draping it over the vent.
*Four months. Just survive four months.*
**Kael’s POV**
The text came again: **You shouldn’t have replaced me, Kael.**
His bourbon glass shattered against the wall.
Clara was alive.
And she wanted revenge.
- Writer
