Trapped by the CEO’s Desire

3.The Pact with the Devil

-- Six months? -- Lucía let out a bitter laugh, though her hand trembled under the metal -- . You're insane. I’d rather they take me away in real handcuffs to a real police station than spend one more day pretending I can stand you, Adrian Valente. --

-- Prison isn't like the movies, Lucía -- he replied with exasperating calm. He stepped so close that she could see the reflection of the city lights in his dark pupils -- . There are no heroic endings. Only a cold cell, a criminal record that will destroy your career before it even begins, and a debt that will haunt you until you’re an old woman. --

Lucía yanked the chain in a fit of rage. They were so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, a violent contrast to the coldness in his gaze.

-- You think you can buy everything, don't you? -- she spat -- . You think because you have a building with your name on it, you can own other people’s lives. --

-- I don’t think I can buy everything -- he corrected, tilting his head -- . I know I can. And right now, your freedom has a price you cannot pay. --

The chime of the private elevator interrupted the tension. Hugo, Adrian’s assistant, entered followed by an older man carrying a toolbox. The locksmith took in the scene — the city’s most powerful CEO chained to a disheveled, furious girl — and opened his mouth to ask, but a single glacial look from Adrian silenced him.

-- Do your job. Not a word -- Adrian ordered.

Those were the longest five minutes of Lucía’s life. The brush of the locksmith’s hands, the forced proximity to Adrian, and the deathly silence of the penthouse made the air feel heavy.

Click!

The metal snapped open. Lucía took three steps back the instant she felt her wrist free, rubbing the red mark the steel had left on her skin. She felt naked without the chain, but strangely more vulnerable under Adrian’s gaze.

Hugo handed a black leather folder to his boss. Adrian took it and laid it on the marble island, sliding it toward her.

-- Those are the conditions -- he said, returning to his business tone -- . You’ll live here, in the guest room. You’ll have a wardrobe budget that matches my status. You’ll attend every event, dinner, and meeting I decide. In exchange, at the end of the six months, the car debt is canceled, and I’ll give you a personal letter of recommendation for any architecture firm in the world. --

Lucía opened the folder. The document was flawless, filled with legal terms that felt like they were suffocating her.

-- Move in here? -- she shook her head -- . I have a life. I have a friend who needs me. I’m not your pet, Valente. --

-- For six months, you will be exactly what I need you to be -- he replied without emotion -- . You have ten minutes to decide. If you walk out that door without signing, Hugo will call the police. --

Lucía grabbed her bag and walked toward the elevator, her heart hammering against her ribs. She wasn't going to do it. She couldn't sell herself like this. But just as her fingers brushed the button on the panel, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

It was a message from Valeria. Three photos of suitcases in the hallway of their apartment and a desperate text:

"Lulú, the landlord went crazy. He says if we don't pay the three months we owe by first thing tomorrow morning, he’s changing the locks. I don’t know what to do."

Lucía closed her eyes. Reality was a concrete wall she had just hit at full speed. She had no money, no university, and in a few hours, she would have no roof over her head.

She turned around slowly. Adrian was still in the same position, his back turned, observing the city skyline with his hands in his pockets. He looked like an ancient god watching a world he no longer cared for.

Lucía returned to the marble island. She grabbed the silver pen resting on the contract. Her fingers were trembling so much the first letter came out crooked, but she signed.

Lucía Soler.

The sound of the paper being closed made Adrian turn. There was no triumph on his face, only the satisfaction of someone who had just closed a successful transaction.

-- Wise choice -- he said, taking the pen from her hand. Their fingers brushed for a second, sending an electric shock up Lucía’s arm -- . Hugo will take you home so you can get your things. You have one hour. --

-- I hate you -- she whispered, her eyes clouded with rage.

Adrian took a step toward her, invading her space once more, forcing her to look up.

-- Get used to that feeling, Lucía. It will make it easier to pretend we’re the perfect couple -- he leaned in until his lips were inches from her ear -- . Tomorrow at six in the morning, your transformation begins. Don’t be late. Welcome to hell, fiancée. --