Episode 10: A Deal with the Devil
1011 Words
The room was silent.
The kind of silence that stretched too tight, like a thread on the verge of snapping.
Kieran stood in front of her, shoulders tense, gaze fixed on the penthouse door. Dante Valenciaga was waiting on the other side.
Seraphina had heard his name whispered in the darkest corners of the business world. A man who didn’t deal in favors, only debts. And debts? He always collected.
Another knock—this one softer, more controlled. “Blackwell,” Dante drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “Be a good host.”
Seraphina’s pulse quickened.
Kieran turned his head slightly, his voice low. “Don’t speak. Don’t react. Just follow my lead.”
She lifted a brow. “You don’t give orders, Kieran.”
“Now isn’t the time.” His jaw tightened. “Just trust me.”
Trust.
A funny thing, coming from a man like him.
But still—she nodded.
Kieran finally moved, undoing the locks before pulling the door open.
And there he was.
Dante Valenciaga stepped inside like he owned the place, his sharp green eyes sweeping over the penthouse. He looked exactly as dangerous as the rumors described—tall, dressed in an expensive black suit, his dark hair slicked back with effortless precision.
And that smile. Charming, deadly, and promising nothing but destruction.
His gaze landed on her.
“Ah,” he mused, taking his time as he looked her up and down. “Seraphina Sinclair. Now this? This is a surprise.”
Seraphina kept her expression neutral, even as a flicker of unease crawled down her spine.
Kieran exhaled sharply. “You didn’t come here to admire my company. Say what you want and leave.”
Dante tsked, shaking his head as he strolled further in. “That’s no way to treat an old friend.”
“You’re not my friend.”
A slow smirk. “No. I’m not.”
He walked to the bar, helping himself to a glass of whiskey. Kieran didn’t stop him.
That’s what unsettled her most. Kieran Blackwell didn’t let anyone walk into his home and do as they pleased.
Except Dante Valenciaga.
Which meant whatever power Dante had over him, it was real.
Seraphina crossed her arms. “What do you want, Valenciaga?”
He turned toward her, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Direct. I like that.”
Kieran stepped closer to her, body subtly blocking her from Dante’s full view. Protective. Territorial.
Dante noticed. He grinned.
“Relax, Blackwell. I’m just here to talk.” He lifted his drink, as if making a toast. “A little business. A little pleasure.”
Kieran’s expression darkened. “You don’t mix the two.”
“True.” Dante took a slow sip, eyes flicking between them. “But tonight? I’ll make an exception.”
Seraphina studied him, looking for the cracks beneath the charm. “You don’t strike me as the social type.”
Dante chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m very social. Especially when there’s something I want.”
Kieran’s jaw clenched. “And what is that, exactly?”
Dante set his glass down on the bar. “I’ll be in town for a while. I have a deal in the works—one that requires discretion. And resources.” He tilted his head. “You have both.”
Seraphina didn’t miss the flicker of tension in Kieran’s stance. Whatever Dante was asking for, Kieran didn’t like it.
Kieran exhaled through his nose. “And if I say no?”
Dante smirked. “Then I suppose I’ll have to get creative.”
The room thickened with something electric, something dangerous.
Seraphina’s fingers twitched at her sides, every instinct screaming that Dante was not a man to be ignored.
Kieran met his gaze, cold and unyielding. “I’ll consider it.”
Dante sighed, like a man dealing with an inconvenience. “Don’t take too long, Blackwell.” His gaze flickered back to Seraphina. “And you?”
Seraphina lifted a brow.
His smile sharpened. “You should keep a closer eye on your shadow.”
A chill ran down her spine.
Before she could respond, Dante stepped back toward the door, straightening his cuffs. “I’ll be seeing you both very soon.”
Then—he was gone.
The second the door clicked shut, Seraphina turned to Kieran. “What the hell was that?”
Kieran ran a hand through his hair, tension radiating from him. “Trouble.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You know what he’s after.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “It doesn’t matter.”
Seraphina took a step closer. “The hell it doesn’t.”
Kieran turned to face her fully. And just like that, the air changed.
The energy between them shifted, crackling with something raw, heated, and unresolved.
Kieran had spent the last hour touching her, unraveling her. And now? Now he was acting like none of it had happened.
She hated it.
She hated that he could do this to her and then pull away.
She lifted her chin. “Is this what you do? Distract, deflect, avoid?”
Kieran exhaled, stepping toward her. “You’re not ready for this fight, Sinclair.”
Her eyes burned. “You don’t decide what I’m ready for.”
Something flickered in his gaze. “No,” he murmured. “I don’t.”
And then—he kissed her.
Fierce, desperate, without any warning.
Seraphina gasped into his mouth, fingers gripping his shirt as he pulled her in.
Hot. Deep. Consuming.
Like he was trying to erase everything else. Like he needed this just as badly as she did.
She kissed him back, pouring every ounce of frustration, defiance, and hunger into it.
And just when she was about to lose herself completely—
Kieran pulled away.
His forehead rested against hers, breath heavy. Unsteady.
“This is a mistake,” he whispered.
Seraphina’s pulse pounded. “Then why did you do it?”
His hands tightened on her waist.
And for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.
- Writer
