His eyes never left mine, dark and consuming, as though he could strip me bare with nothing more than a look. The air in his mansion was heavy, pressing against my lungs, reminding me with every breath that I was standing in the lair of the most dangerous man alive.
"You need money," he repeated, his voice smooth as silk but edged with steel. "Everyone needs money. But tell me, why should I give it to you?"
My throat went dry. I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to crumble. "Because…" My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going. "Because I have nothing left. My father's gone. My mother won't stop until I give her what she wants. I—I don't know where else to turn."
He studied me in silence, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. The longer it lingered, the smaller I felt. But I refused to look away. If I showed weakness, he would devour me.
Finally, he smirked. A slow, dangerous curl of his lips that made my stomach twist. "Do you know what people usually offer me when they come begging?"
I shook my head, barely breathing.
"Loyalty. Silence. Blood." He stepped closer, his polished shoes echoing against the marble floor. "But you…" His eyes flickered down to my lips, lingering in a way that sent heat crawling up my neck. "You offer me temptation."
I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close he was, how his presence filled every corner of the room. His cologne, dark and intoxicating, clung to the air between us.
"I didn't come here to tempt you," I whispered, though my voice betrayed me with its trembling edge.
"No?" His hand rose, slow and deliberate, until his fingers hovered just inches from my chin. He didn't touch me, not yet, but the threat of it was worse than the act itself. "Then why do I feel as though you've already sold your soul the moment you walked through my doors?"
My breath caught. My heart thundered in my chest. Every instinct screamed at me to turn and run, but something deeper—something reckless—rooted me to the spot.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice breaking under the weight of his stare.
His lips curved into something between a smile and a warning. "Everything."
The word lingered in the air, dangerous and final.
I should have left then. I should have turned on my heel and walked away before I drowned in the black abyss of his world. But I didn't. I couldn't. Because in that moment, beneath the sharpness of his cruelty, I glimpsed something else in his eyes—something that looked a lot like hunger.
And hunger could be just as dangerous as hate.