The next morning, I woke to the sound of footsteps echoing outside the guest room door. For a second, I forgot where I was. The sheets were silk, the air smelled of expensive cologne and polished marble—not the crumbling apartment I had grown up in.
Then it hit me.
I was in his mansion.
The King's lair.
I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest. My mind replayed every moment from the night before—his black eyes, his voice like velvet dipped in poison, the word he had whispered: Everything.
A knock sounded at the door before I could steady my nerves. It opened without waiting for my answer. A man in a tailored suit stepped inside—tall, expressionless, with an earpiece curled into his ear. One of his guards.
"The boss wants you in the dining hall," he said, his voice clipped and final.
I didn't argue. Maybe I didn't dare.
The mansion was silent as I followed him down a hallway lined with gold-framed paintings and glittering chandeliers. Every corner whispered of wealth and power, but beneath it all was something darker—a chill that clung to the walls like a ghost.
When we entered the dining hall, I stopped short. The table was long enough to seat twenty, but only one chair was occupied. He sat at the head, a dark figure against the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He didn't rise when I entered. He didn't need to. His presence filled the room like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.
"Sit," he ordered, his gaze never leaving mine.
I obeyed, my hands trembling slightly as I lowered myself into the chair opposite him. A plate of untouched food sat before me, but my appetite was gone.
He leaned back, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand. Morning or not, he drank like the world was his to burn.
"Do you know what happens to people who owe me?" he asked, his tone casual, almost conversational.
I swallowed. "They pay."
He smirked. "One way or another."
Silence stretched between us, thick and dangerous. Then, slowly, he set his glass down and leaned forward.
"You want money. Fine. I'll give it to you." His eyes darkened, sharp as blades. "But I don't give without taking. And I don't take lightly."
My chest tightened. "What do you want from me?"
His gaze flickered to my lips, then back to my eyes. A slow, deliberate smile curved his mouth. "You'll stay here. In my mansion. You'll be mine until I decide I no longer want you."
The words struck me like a blow, stealing the air from my lungs. "You're asking me to be your—"
"Don't play innocent," he cut me off, his voice low and commanding. "You walked into my world the moment you crossed my gates. Now you'll play by my rules."
My heart pounded, fear and fury warring inside me. But beneath the storm, one terrifying truth pulsed like a drumbeat—I should have run while I had the chance.
Because now, I belonged to the devil.