Chapter 2 A HANDSHAKE WITH THE DEVIL

I spent most of the next morning staring at Liam Mercer's business card, its glossy surface taunting me from the kitchen counter. I'd barely slept, my mind turning over his words, his sharp smile, and the intensity of his gaze. What did someone like him see in me or my work?

I knew this wasn't just about art. Men like Liam Mercer didn't invest in people unless they saw something they could use-something that would benefit them. And yet, wasn't that what I wanted? Someone who could catapult me into the spotlight? Someone who could help me reach heights I never thought possible?

But it wasn't that simple. I had worked so hard to get to this point on my own. What if saying yes to him meant giving up my creative control, or worse-losing who I was as an artist?

I was still deep in thought when Jenna called, her voice practically vibrating with excitement.

"Isa, did you call him yet?" she asked, not even bothering with a greeting.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. "No, not yet."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could almost hear her frowning. "What do you mean 'not yet'? This is Liam Mercer we're talking about! Do you know how many artists would kill for an opportunity like this?"

"I know," I said, feeling the familiar churn of anxiety in my stomach. "But something about it just feels... off. I don't know if I'm ready for what he's offering."

Jenna let out a dramatic sigh. "Isa, you're overthinking it. You always do this. Look, I get it-you're worried about losing control or selling out. But this isn't about selling out. It's about leveling up. Liam Mercer can open doors for you that no one else can. You'd be crazy not to at least hear him out."

I leaned back in my chair, chewing on my bottom lip. Jenna was right-she usually was. I had been given an opportunity that most artists could only dream of, and I was hesitating. Was it fear holding me back? Fear of success? Fear of failure?

"Okay," I finally said, letting out a breath. "I'll call him."

Jenna squealed with excitement. "That's what I like to hear! I'll be by your place later to celebrate. Champagne on me!"

I hung up, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread settling in my chest. This was it-the moment that could change everything. But the question was, did I really want it to?

I stared at the card for another minute before finally picking up my phone. My fingers hovered over the keypad, and then, before I could talk myself out of it, I dialed the number.

The phone rang once. Twice. Then a crisp, deep voice answered.

"Liam Mercer."

For a second, I couldn't speak. I hadn't expected him to pick up so quickly. His voice was even more commanding over the phone, and I felt the weight of his presence through the line.

"Hi, Mr. Mercer. It's Isabella Wright."

There was a brief pause, and then his tone softened, just a bit. "Isabella. I was hoping you'd call."

My stomach fluttered at the sound of my name on his lips, but I forced myself to stay focused. "I wanted to discuss your offer. I'm interested, but I have some questions."

"Of course," he said smoothly. "Why don't we meet? There's a restaurant downtown, Luxe. I'll have my assistant send you the details. Say tomorrow at seven?"

Luxe. Of course, it had to be one of the most exclusive places in the city. My pulse quickened at the thought of meeting Liam in such a glamorous setting, but I tried to keep my voice steady.

"That works. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," he said, and then the line went dead.

I stared at my phone for a moment, my heart racing. What had I just agreed to?

The next day, I found myself standing outside Luxe, trying to muster the courage to walk in. The restaurant was housed in a sleek, modern building, with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a perfect view of the city skyline. Inside, I could see waiters gliding between tables, carrying plates of food that looked more like works of art than actual meals.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping into the warm, dimly lit space. A hostess greeted me with a smile, and when I gave her my name, she immediately led me toward a private corner of the restaurant, where Liam was already seated.

He looked effortlessly composed, his dark suit tailored to perfection, and his eyes locked onto mine as I approached. He stood when I reached the table, extending a hand.

"Isabella," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Thank you for joining me."

I shook his hand, feeling the strength of his grip, and sat down across from him. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on his sharp features. He looked like he belonged here, in this world of luxury and power. I, on the other hand, felt like an imposter.

"Thank you for inviting me," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

A waiter appeared out of nowhere, pouring wine into our glasses before disappearing just as quickly. Liam picked up his glass, swirling the wine before taking a sip. His eyes never left mine.

"I'm sure you have questions," he said, setting his glass down. "So, let's start there."

I nodded, trying to organize my thoughts. "I guess my first question is... why me? Why are you interested in my work?"

Liam leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment before he answered. "I don't make investments lightly, Isabella. When I see potential, I act on it. Your work has something... raw, something real. It's not just pretty pictures for people to hang on their walls. It has depth. Meaning. That's rare in today's world."

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. "You think my work has depth?"

"I know it does," he said, his voice firm. "And I want to help you bring that to the world. But to do that, you need more than just talent. You need exposure. Connections. Resources. I can offer you all of that."

His words made sense, and yet, something about the way he spoke sent a chill down my spine. There was an intensity to him, a sharpness that made me feel like I was being carefully calculated.

"What exactly would this... partnership entail?" I asked, my fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Liam's eyes darkened, but his smile remained. "I would sponsor your next few collections, cover the costs of production, exhibitions, marketing, everything. In return, I'd take a percentage of the sales and have some say in the direction of your brand."

I narrowed my eyes. "Some say? What does that mean?"

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto mine with a quiet intensity. "It means I'd help guide you. You have the talent, Isabella, but you're still relatively unknown. I can change that. But you'd have to trust me."

There it was-the catch. The control. I knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud still made my heart pound. Trust him? I barely knew him.

I took a sip of wine, buying myself a moment to think. On one hand, this could be everything I ever wanted. Liam had the power to take my career to heights I couldn't even imagine. But on the other hand... what would it cost me? My independence? My creative freedom?

"I don't want to lose myself in this," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Liam's expression softened, just a bit. "You won't. I don't want to change you, Isabella. I want to help you become the artist you were meant to be."

There was something about the way he said it, the quiet conviction in his voice, that made me want to believe him. Maybe I could have it all-success, recognition, and still stay true to who I was.

But a small part of me whispered that nothing came without a price.

"I'll need some time to think about it," I said, my heart pounding in my chest.

Liam nodded, his gaze steady. "Of course. Take all the time you need. But know this, Isabella-opportunities like this don't come around often. Don't let fear hold you back."

With that, he stood, dropping a few bills on the table before turning to leave. I watched him go, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me.

Don't let fear hold you back.

I wasn't sure if it was fear that was holding me back-or something much more dangerous.