I jolted awake to a thunderous bang on the door. My eyes flew open—pitch black outside. Damn, I'd passed out right there on the living room floor, head slumped on the coffee table. My neck screamed in protest as I pushed myself up, heart racing from the rude awakening.
"Who the hell—" I muttered, stumbling to my feet. The banging didn't stop. I yanked the door open, and there she was: Mrs. Hargrove, my landlady, arms crossed, glaring like I'd murdered her cat.
"Rain Vance, I've had it up to here!" she snapped before I could even blink.
"Mrs. Hargrove, it's late—"
"Late? You think I care about late? Where's my rent? You've been dodging me for weeks!"
I froze, mouth dry. "I… I don't have it right now. Things have been tough with Liam in the hospital—"
"Tough? Try telling that to my mortgage company! You've got twenty-four hours, girl. Pay up or pack up. I'll have the sheriff here tossing your junk on the curb!"
"But—"
"Twenty-four hours!" She spun on her heel and stormed off into the night.
I slammed the door shut, leaning against it, sighing hard. Who could I turn to? Mama Rose—Nana Rose—was out of town, and even if she wasn't, her pension barely covered her meds. Liam's mom was in chemo for bone marrow cancer; she couldn't spare a dime without risking her own life. I was screwed.
My phone buzzed on the table. I snatched it up—Tara.
"Rain? You there?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"It's bad. Dr. Evans just pulled me aside. Liam's vitals are tanking. The swelling's worse. If we don't make that deposit soon for the surgery, he's brain dead. As good as gone."
The words hit like a punch. I slid down the door, knees buckling. "No… no, Tara, he can't—"
"I'm sorry, hun. You gotta find the money. Fast."
The call ended, and I shattered. Tears poured out, soaking my shirt. I sobbed, helpless, fists pounding the floor. Why him? Why us? I rocked back and forth, gasping, until my throat burned raw.
Then the phone rang again. Tara.
"Rain, listen up. I got Damien's contact from a friend at the firm. She's connected—says he's willing to lend up to eight hundred million. Low interest, payable over ten years. No questions asked if you got collateral."
"Damien?"
"Yeah. Look, the ball's in your court. But if it was me? I'd grab it. Pay him back in two years easy—keep your piano gigs, add some part-time waitressing or whatever. Boom, done."
"But Tara—"
"Make a wise choice, Rain. Liam's counting on you." Click. She hung up.
I stared at the phone, mind spinning. Damien. The bastard who did this to Liam—sent his goons to beat him senseless over some debt. But what choice did I have? Sit here and let Liam flatline? No. The guilt would haunt me forever. I'd see his ghost in every shadow. Screw it. I'd take money from the devil himself if it saved Liam.
My fingers shook as I texted Tara: Send the address.
Ping. It came through: Rogue Casino. VIP section. Tell them you need a loan—they'll let you see him.
I hesitated, stomach twisting. Going to the man who wrecked my world? Insane. But Dr. Evans gave us twelve hours, and I had two left. No time for second thoughts.
I bolted up, grabbed my jacket, and rushed out, didn't even lock the door. Flagged a cab on the street corner.
"Rogue Casino! Hurry!"
The driver grumbled but floored it. Traffic was a nightmare—red lights, honking horns. I checked my watch every minute. Forty-five agonizing minutes later, we pulled up.
I tossed him cash and jumped out, legs like jelly. The casino loomed, neon lights flashing. Two burly guys blocked the entrance, arms like tree trunks.
"Stop right there, miss," one growled.
"I… I'm here to see Mr. Damien Kael. For a loan." My voice cracked, hands trembling.
They exchanged glances. "No one's seeing Mr. Kael tonight. Beat it."
"Please! You don't understand—it's an emergency. My boyfriend's dying. I need the money now!" Tears streamed down my face. I dropped to my knees, begging. "Please, just ask him. I'll do anything!"
The first guy sighed, tapped his earpiece. "Yeah, boss? Got a girl here, says she needs to see Mr. Kael for a loan." Pause. "Uh-huh. Okay."
He lowered his hand. "He's in the parking lot. Leaving soon. Better hustle."
"Thank you!" I scrambled up and sprinted around the side, shoes slapping pavement.
The lot was dimly lit—two black SUVs and a sleek limousine in the middle. My lips parted in awe, but my heart hammered so loud it drowned everything out. Fingers shook, lips quivered. I edged closer to the first SUV.
Honk! The second SUV's window rolled down. A man in black leaned outearly thirties, rigid posture, sophisticated vibe, blonde hair slicked back.
"Who are you? What do you want?" His tone was sharp, no nonsense.
"I-I'm Rain Vance. Here to meet Mr. Damien Kael… for a loan." My voice trembled like a leaf.
He eyed me up and down, assessing. Then he stepped out, tall and imposing. "This way."
He strode to the limo and motioned me over. My legs nearly gave out as I followed, every step a battle.
He opened the door. "In."
I slid inside, heartbeat roaring in my ears. The interior glowed with soft blue LED strips lining the seats and ceiling, cozy and intimate, like a private lounge on wheels.
My gaze shifted—and there he was. Damien Kael.
My breath caught short.
Dark hair tousled just right, sharp jawline that could cut glass, eyes piercing like ice shards. Tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly. He lounged back, one arm draped over the seat, watching me with predatory calm.
Perhaps Mama Rose was right—monsters are the most good-looking creatures on earth.