The Devil's Maid

Chapter 5

**ARIA**

The room welcomed me with a blast of icy air from the AC, hitting my bare legs and making me shiver.

Or maybe that was because of him.

He was in his bed.

The sheets were luxurious, pooled around him like shadows. The morning light spilled through the floor to ceiling windows, glinting off his muscles, just barely covered by the white shirt that hung open at the collar, leaving enough skin exposed to make my pulse stutter.

He lounged there with effortless dominance, one arm draped over the pillow, the other resting casually at his side.

His eyes dragged down my uniform, slow enough that I felt heat crawl up my neck and spread across my chest.

The stupid skirt felt shorter suddenly.

I forced my voice to work. "Good morning, Mr. Black. How can I help you?"

The words came out exactly as I'd practiced in my head since I'd stepped out of my room, trying to sound professional and pretend this was normal.

He didn't respond.

He just stared.

His gray eyes moved over me again like he was cataloging every inch of my exposed skin. Taking his time. Making sure I felt it. Making sure I knew he was looking and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

Then, very faintly, like he didn't care if I heard or not, he chuckled.

The sound hit me like a slap.

He was laughing at me. At me.

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth hurt.

I tugged the skirt down an inch, useless, it didn't move at all, just stayed plastered to my hips showing way too much thigh.

"Too short?" he asked, and that smirk on his face told me he already knew the answer.

"As a matter of fact, it is," I snapped before I could stop myself. "Why would you even make me wear this—"

"I can make you wear," he said quietly, leaning forward slightly, eyes never leaving mine, "whatever I want you to wear."

My pulse kicked hard against my throat.

The casual certainty in his voice, the absolute confidence that I would obey made anger flare hot in my chest.

"Your father owes me," he continued, like he was explaining something simple to a child.

"My father owes you," I shot back, voice trembling with anger I couldn't control, "not me. And don't think I can't walk away from this deal if I want to."

The words hung in the air between us.

Stupid. So f*****g stupid.

He raised an eyebrow, expression shifting to something colder, more dangerous.

"You can't."

My stomach dropped.

Jade's voice dipped, deadly calm.

"Your father's life would be the price."

The air left my lungs.

The casual way he said it, like killing my father would mean nothing, made my blood run cold.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms.

Anger burned through me, hot, helpless, humiliating. I hated him. Hated my father more.

I forced my voice steady, swallowed the rage and fear and shame threatening to choke me.

"What can I do for you this morning, Mr. Black?"

His eyes flicked over me again.

When he finally spoke, his voice dropped to something dangerous, controlled, leaving no room for argument.

"Turn around."

The way he said it made heat spike through my veins and pool low in my belly.

I shouldn't have felt that. But my body betrayed me.

"Why?" The word came out breathy, not the way I wanted.

"Because I want to see you," he paused, lips curving devilishly, "everywhere."

Shame and arousal warred in my chest, twisting together until I couldn't tell which was which.

I didn't move.

I couldn't make my legs obey even though every instinct screamed at me to just do it, just turn around and get this over with.

Jade sat up slowly, the sheets falling away from his chest, and I saw more of that tattoo on his ribs, dark script that looked like names. His feet hit the floor and he stood, all six four of him, and suddenly the room felt smaller.

He walked toward me with that predatory grace, each step deliberate, making me back up instinctively until my spine hit the door.

Trapped.

He stopped inches away, close enough that I could smell him.

I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact with him

"When I give you an order, Aria," he said softly, his hand coming up to trace my jaw, thumb brushing my bottom lip, "you obey. Immediately." His fingers moved to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling my racing pulse. "Do you understand?"

I couldn't breathe. I stood there staring at him as my body screamed conflicting messages, run and stay and submit and fight.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes." The word came out barely above a whisper.

"Yes what?"

My throat worked against his palm. "Yes, Mr. Black."

"Good girl." His hand dropped and he stepped back, giving me space I didn't want and desperately needed at the same time. "Now turn around."

I turned slowly, feeling his eyes on me the entire time, burning into my back, my ass barely covered by the tiny skirt, my legs encased in those ridiculous stockings.

The silence stretched.

I stood there facing the door, wondering what he was seeing, what he was thinking.

"Bend over."

My breath caught.

"What? No!"

"You heard me." His voice was closer now, right behind me, and I hadn't heard him move. "Put your hands on the door and bend over. I want to see if that skirt is as useless as I think it is."

No. No.

This was too much. I was supposed to be a maid, not, not whatever this was.

"I can't," I said, hating how broken I sounded. "You can't make me—"

"Aria." My name in his mouth was a warning. "You signed a contract. You agreed to serve me. In every way I choose." His hand settled on my lower back, warm through the thin fabric. "Your father's life is in my hands."

Such a bastard. But he was right.

I agreed to all this because of my father.

I took a breath and slowly placed my hands on the door.

I bent forward.

The skirt rode up immediately, just like he knew it would, exposing the bottom curves of my ass, the lace edge of the panties I'd found in the drawer because f**k his command about not wearing them, I wasn't going commando on my first day.

His sharp intake of breath told me he saw them.

"I specifically told you," his voice was rough now, tight with something that sounded like anger mixed with desire, "not to wear panties under your uniform."

Oh God.

"I forgot," I lied, voice muffled against my arm.

"Liar."

His hand slid up my thigh, over the stocking, onto bare skin, and I gasped. The touch was light, fingers tracing the edge of the lace, and it made me want to scream or beg or push back into his hand, anything to get more pressure, more friction.

"You deliberately disobeyed me." His fingers hooked into the waistband. "On your first day."

"I forgot—"

"Stop lying."

He tugged the panties down in one smooth motion, pulling them over my ass, down my thighs, letting them fall to my ankles.

I'd never felt more vulnerable in my life.

His hand settled on my bare ass, warm, possessive.

Then his hand froze.

I felt him go completely still behind me.

The silence stretched so long I thought I'd imagined it, thought maybe time had stopped.

Then I heard it.

A sharp exhale. Rough. Almost pained.

His hand left my skin abruptly, like I'd burned him.

"Get up."

The words came out harsh, nothing like his controlled tone from before.

I straightened slowly, confusion flooding through me. I turned to look at him.

He'd backed away several feet, putting distance between us. His hands were fisted at his sides, knuckles white.

And his eyes.

God, his eyes looked haunted.

"Leave," he said, voice low and rough.

I stood there, frozen, trying to understand what just happened. One second he was touching me, commanding me, and the next—

"I said get out."

The way he said it made something twist in my chest. It wasn't cold anymore. It was... broken.

I grabbed my panties with shaking hands and practically ran for the door.

"Wait."

I stopped, hand on the doorknob, not daring to turn around.

"Next time," he said quietly, and I could hear the strain in every word, "you follow the rules exactly as given. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Black."

"Go."

I fled.

---

Back in my room, I slammed the door and pressed my back against it.

My heart hammered. My thighs were sticky. My whole body was still humming with arousal and confusion.

What the f**k just happened?

He'd just... stopped.

Like touching me hurt him somehow.

I walked to the bed and collapsed onto it, staring at the ceiling.

I forced myself up, stripped off the uniform, threw it in the corner.

I needed a shower. Needed to wash away the morning and the confusion.

But as I walked toward the bathroom, I heard it.

A voice. Muffled. Coming from the other side of the wall.

Jade's voice.

I froze, pressing my ear against the cool plaster.

"—don't care what it takes." His voice was cold, clipped, nothing like the broken tone from minutes ago. "Find what Richard Finner saw before Kane does. We're running out of time."

My blood went cold.

Richard Finner. My father.

What did he see?

"I said I don't care how you do it," Jade continued, voice rising slightly. "Tear apart every inch of that club if you have to. Check the security footage again. Someone edited it. I want the original files."

A pause.

"If Kane gets to him first, we're fucked.Do you understand?"

I heard footsteps. The sound of something being slammed down.

Then silence.

I stood there, ear still pressed to the wall, mind racing.

Evidence. Security footage. The club.

My father had seen something. Something important enough that Jade needed it. Something dangerous enough that this "Kane" person wanted it too.

And I was the collateral that kept my father in line.

Suddenly everything made horrible sense.

I wasn't just here to pay off a debt.

I was leverage. A hostage. A tool to control my father and whatever he knew.

But who the hell was Kane?

I backed away from the wall, pulse racing, too many questions flooding my mind.

This wasn't about money. This wasn't about gambling debts or collateral agreements.

This was something bigger. Something dangerous.