Chapter 3: A Deal With The Devil
1099 Words
My obituary slipped from my fingers and landed in a rain puddle.
For a long second, neither of us moved.
The city carried on around us—cars honked, people rushed past, someone laughed across the street—but everything sounded distant, like I was underwater.
I looked up at Adrian.
"What do you want?"
He studied me with the same unreadable expression he'd worn since I stepped into his office.
"Good."
I frowned.
"What?"
"You didn't ask how I found out."
My jaw tightened.
"I asked what you wanted."
A corner of his mouth lifted.
"That means you're already thinking about survival."
"I've been thinking about survival for five years."
His gaze lingered on my face before he bent down, picked up the soaked newspaper, and folded it neatly.
"You've gotten better at running."
My chest tightened.
"You've been following me."
"I've been watching."
"That's not the same thing?"
"No."
He handed the newspaper back to me.
"If I'd been following you, the people chasing you would've found you months ago."
I laughed once.
Short.
Bitter.
"You expect me to believe you're protecting me?"
"I don't expect anything."
He slipped one hand into his coat pocket.
"I deal in facts."
"Then here's one."
I stepped closer.
"I don't know you."
"No."
His voice remained calm.
"But I know you."
Silence settled between us.
Every instinct screamed that I should leave.
Run.
Disappeared before he could say another word.
Instead, I stood there.
Because the most dangerous thing about Adrian Blackwood wasn't that he knew my real name.
It was that he didn't seem interested in exposing me.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now..."
He looked toward the entrance of Blackwood Holdings.
"...we stop having this conversation in the middle of the street."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"You don't have much of a choice."
My eyes narrowed.
"Was that a threat?"
"It was reality."
Before I could answer, tires screeched behind us.
A black sedan stopped so abruptly that pedestrians jumped out of the way.
The rear window rolled down.
For only a second.
Just long enough for me to see a man wearing black leather gloves.
He smiled.
Then drew a finger slowly across his throat.
My blood ran cold.
The car sped away before I could memorize the license plate.
Adrian didn't chase it.
He didn't even look surprised.
"You know who that was," I said.
"I have a few guesses."
"You could've stopped them."
"No."
His eyes met mine.
"I wanted to see if they'd show themselves."
Anger flared inside me.
"You used me as bait."
"I used the opportunity."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"If I wanted you dead..."
He took one slow step closer.
"...we wouldn't be having this conversation."
I hated how calm he was.
I hated that part of me believed him.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
I didn't want to open it.
I already knew I would.
The message contained only seven words.
«Don't trust the man standing beside you.
I stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
Don't trust the man standing beside you.
I laughed under my breath.
"What?"
Adrian's eyes stayed on me.
I locked my phone and slipped it back into my bag.
"Apparently, someone doesn't like you."
"I'm used to that."
"You don't even want to know who sent it?"
"I already have a few ideas."
His answer only frustrated me more.
Nothing about this man made sense.
He knew my real name.
He knew someone was hunting me.
And somehow, he wasn't the least bit surprised.
"Who are you?" I asked again.
"The better question is..." He held my gaze. "Who are you running from?"
I looked away.
"I don't owe you an answer."
"No."
"You don't owe me anything."
His voice remained calm.
"But if you keep pretending this is just a bad morning, you'll be dead before the week is over."
The words landed harder than I wanted to admit.
I hated that a part of me believed him.
"What do you know about the Romano family?" I asked quietly.
His expression didn't change.
"Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"I've spent seven years investigating them."
I blinked.
"Seven?"
"I started long before your funeral."
A thousand questions crowded my mind.
"Why?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked across the street where the black sedan had disappeared.
"My father was murdered."
The words were simple.
Flat.
Almost rehearsed.
"When the police closed the case, they called it a robbery gone wrong."
He met my eyes.
"It wasn't."
"You think my family did it."
"I know they did."
Silence settled between us.
For the first time since meeting Adrian Blackwood, I saw something beneath the calm exterior.
Not anger.
Not grief.
Determination.
Cold and unwavering.
"You've been using me," I said.
"I've been looking for you."
"There's a difference."
"There is."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You are the only person who disappeared from the Romano family and lived to tell the story."
I folded my arms.
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"And how exactly do you know so much about me?"
A faint smile crossed his face.
"I make it my business to know everything about my enemies."
"My family is your enemy."
"No."
His eyes locked onto mine.
"They're ours."
The word hung between us.
Ours.
I didn't want to be on anyone's side.
I wanted my life back.
"I won't help you."
"I wasn't asking."
My temper snapped.
"You don't get to decide that!"
"I don't."
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a slim black folder.
He handed it to me.
Inside were photographs.
The black SUV outside my apartment.
The man in the blue cap followed me through the market.
A grainy image of my apartment building taken only hours earlier.
The final photograph made my stomach twist.
Someone had taken a picture of me while I slept.
The date at the bottom read last night.
My fingers tightened around the folder.
"They were inside my apartment..."
"Yes."
"They could've killed me."
"They chose not to."
"Why?"
"Because they're waiting."
He paused.
"They're waiting for you to lead them to something more valuable."
My mouth went dry.
"What could be more valuable than killing me?"
Adrian took one deliberate step closer.
"You."
Another heartbeat passed.
Then he said the last thing I ever expected to hear.
"So here's my proposal."
I frowned.
"What proposal?"
His expression never changed.
"From today onward..."
He held my gaze without blinking.
"...you're going to pretend to be my fiancée.”
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