TRAPPED WITH THE DEVIL: MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND

The bass thudded against my chest, vibrating through bone and blood, loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

I should not be here.

I should be hunched over my desk, memorizing drug classifications for my Pharmacology final. I should be worrying about tuition deadlines and my bank balance that read $4.12.

Instead, I was standing in a masquerade club in downtown Manhattan, wearing a borrowed red dress and a black lace mask, pretending I was someone else.

Just for one night.

"Relax," Lila shouted into my ear, laughing as she tugged me toward the bar. "You look like you are about to pass out."

"I might," I muttered. "If my father finds out I am here-"

"He will not," she cut in. "Tonight, you are not a nursing student with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Tonight, you are just a girl."

A lie.

But I let myself believe it.

I took the drink she pressed into my hand and swallowed, the burn of alcohol settling low in my stomach. The lights were low, the air thick with perfume and sweat and temptation.

And then-

A hand closed around my waist.

Not tentative. Not unsure.

Claiming.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

"You are trembling," a man murmured behind me.

I stiffened. "Excuse me?"

His hand remained at my waist, unyielding.

"Your pulse," he continued calmly. "It is racing."

I scoffed. "You have a habit of grabbing strangers and diagnosing them?"

His thumb pressed lightly into my waist.

"Only the interesting ones."

"You should let go of me," I whispered.

He hummed. "You should leave."

I did not.

My body betrayed me, staying exactly where it was.

"I am not scared," I told him.

He softly chuckled close to my ear "You should be."

He turned me slowly, deliberately, until I was facing him.

He wore a black mask. Minimal. Elegant. It hid his face, but not his presence. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in an immaculate suit that screamed money and power.

Danger.

I felt it instinctively.

His gaze swept over me, unhurried, as if he were memorizing me.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"I do not give my name to strangers," I replied, lifting my chin.

His eyes darkened with interest. "Good. Neither do I."

His hand remained at my waist, thumb pressing lightly into my skin, grounding me there. The music faded. The crowd disappeared.

There was only him.

"You should walk away," I said, though my body leaned closer.

"And yet," he murmured, dipping his head, "you have not."

The space between us vanished.

He kissed me.

Not softly. Not sweetly.

It was a kiss that stole breath and sense, that branded rather than asked. His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back as if he already knew exactly how I would fit against him.

My fingers fisted in his jacket before I could stop myself.

God.

When he pulled back, my lips were swollen, my knees weak.

His forehead rested briefly against mine. "This is a mistake," he said quietly.

"Yes," I whispered.

But neither of us moved.

Reality slammed back into me all at once.

I tore myself from his grip.

"I cannot," I said breathlessly. "I should not have-"

I turned and ran.

I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls behind me, my heart pounding as I fled toward the exit. I did not stop until I was outside, gulping in cold night air.

My hands shook as I reached up and tore off my mask.

Only then did I realize-

My bracelet was gone.

The thin gold chain my mother had left me.

Panic bloomed.

I spun back toward the club-

And froze.

The man stood just inside the entrance, watching me.

In his hand was my bracelet.

Our eyes locked.

He did not chase me.

He simply smiled.

And I knew, with terrifying certainty, that this was not over.

I went home that night telling myself it was just a kiss.

Just a mistake.

I had no idea I had just met the man who would ruin my life.

I woke up to seventeen missed calls.

My phone vibrated against the nightstand, drilling into my skull like a second hangover. I groaned and reached for it, squinting at the screen through crusted mascara.

Dad. Dad. Dad.

All seventeen calls.

My stomach dropped.

I sat up too fast, and the room tilted. My borrowed red dress was crumpled on the floor where I had torn it off at 3am, and my black mask stared up at me from the carpet like an accusation.

The kiss.

The man.

The bracelet.

My hand flew to my bare wrist, and the absence of my mother's bracelet hit me all over again. A thin gold chain, delicate and worn, the only thing I had left of her.

Gone.

I pressed my palms into my eyes and tried to breathe.

It was just a kiss. A stupid, reckless mistake. He was a stranger at a club. I would never see him again.

I had to believe that.

My phone buzzed again.

Dad: Aria, please. Call me back.

Guilt twisted in my chest. I swiped to call him, my throat dry.

He answered on the first ring.

"Aria." His voice cracked. "Thank God."

"Dad, what's wrong?" I asked, my pulse spiking. "Are you okay?"

Silence.

Too long.

"Dad?"

"I need you to come home," he said finally. "Right now."

"I have clinical rotation in two hours---"

"Aria." His voice broke. "Please."

I had never heard my father beg before.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'm coming."

---

The apartment looked the same as always.

Peeling paint. Cracked linoleum. The faint smell of cigarettes and instant coffee. My father sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, and he looked older than I had ever seen him.

Smaller.

Broken.

"Dad?" I set my bag down carefully, my nursing instincts kicking in. "Are you hurt?"

He laughed, bitter and hollow. "I wish."

I pulled out the chair across from him and sat. My hands were shaking, but I folded them in my lap and kept my voice steady.

"Tell me what happened."

He looked up at me, and his eyes were red-rimmed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Dread pooled in my stomach. "For what?" "I owe money," he said quietly. "A lot of money."

I closed my eyes. Of course. Of course he did.

"How much?" I asked.

He flinched. "Four million."

The number didn't make sense. It was too big. Too impossible.

"Four million dollars?" I repeated, my voice climbing. "Dad, what the hell did you---"

"I thought I could win it back," he said quickly. "I thought---"

"You gambled four million dollars?" I stood up so fast the chair screeched. "Are you insane?"

"I didn't have it," he said desperately. "I borrowed it. From a lender. Marcus Kane. He said---" "A loan shark." My voice was flat. "You borrowed four million dollars from a loan shark."

He nodded miserably.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to shake him until he understood what he had done.

But I didn't.

Because I had been managing my father's disasters since I was twelve years old.

"When is it due?" I asked.

"A week ago."

My blood turned to ice. "What?"

"Kane's men came by yesterday," he said, his voice shaking. "They said if I don't pay by the end of the week, they'll---" He stopped. Swallowed. "They'll kill me, Aria."

I sank back into the chair.

Four million dollars.

We didn't have four thousand. We didn't have four hundred.

"We'll go to the police," I said, grasping at anything. "We'll---"

"They'll kill me before the cops even show up," he interrupted. "Kane owns half the precinct."

"Then we'll run," I said. "We'll leave the city. We'll---"

"He'll find us."

I stared at my father, this man who had raised me and ruined me in equal measure, and I felt something inside me crack.

"Then what do we do?" I whispered.

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw hope in his eyes.

That should have been my first warning.

"I found someone," he said. "Someone who can help."

"Who?"

"My oldest best friend. He's willing to pay the debt."

I blinked. "What? Who would---"

A knock sounded at the door.

Three sharp raps.

My father stood, his hands trembling as he smoothed down his shirt. "That's him." "Dad, wait---"

But he was already at the door, already opening it.

And the man who stepped inside stole the air from my lungs.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Immaculate suit.

Steel-grey eyes that locked onto mine with the precision of a predator.

No mask this time.

I didn't need one to recognize him.

The man from the club.

The man who had kissed me like he owned me. He stood in my father's apartment, and in his hand---

My bracelet.

"Hello, Aria," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I believe this belongs to you."

I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't move.

My father was smiling. Actually smiling.

"Aria," he said, "this is Dominic Sterling. My oldest best friend."

Dominic's eyes never left mine.

"We've met," he said softly.

And the world tilted beneath my feet.

"Sit down, Aria."

Dominic's voice was calm. Polite, even.

It made my skin crawl.

I didn't sit.

I stood frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the man who had unraveled me with a single kiss less than twelve hours ago. The man who now stood in my apartment, holding my mother's bracelet like a ransom note.

My father hovered near the door, wringing his hands. "Aria, please. Just listen---"

"You knew?" My voice came out hoarse. "You knew I was at that club?"

Dominic tilted his head, studying me. "I didn't. Not at first."

"But you figured it out."

"The bracelet has an engraving," he said, turning it over in his palm. "To my darling Aria. It wasn't difficult."

My hands clenched into fists. "So you've been sitting on this since last night? Waiting?"

"I've been deciding," he corrected, "how to handle the situation."

"There is no situation," I snapped. "You give me back my bracelet, and you leave."

His eyes darkened with something that might have been amusement. "I'm afraid it's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because your father owes Marcus Kane four million dollars," Dominic said, his tone still infuriatingly calm. "And Kane is not a patient man."

I turned to my father. "I thought you said he would help."

"He is helping," my father said quickly. "Dominic's agreed to pay the debt."

My breath caught. "What?"

"In full," Dominic added. "Four million dollars. Transferred to Kane's account within the hour."

I stared at him. Four million dollars. He said it like it was pocket change.

"Why?" I asked slowly. "Why would you do that?"

Dominic took a step closer.

Then another.

He moved like a man who had never been told no in his life, and I hated that my body tensed in anticipation rather than fear.

"Because Robert is my friend," he said. "And because I don't like the idea of Kane's men putting their hands on what's mine."

The room went very still.

"What's yours?" I repeated.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne. Expensive. Intoxicating.

"You, Aria."

My father cleared his throat. "Dom, maybe we should---"

"Leave us," Dominic said, not looking away from me.

My father hesitated. "Aria---"

"Dad." My voice was tight. "Give us a minute."

He nodded and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The second we were alone, I shoved Dominic's chest.

He didn't move.

"I am not yours," I hissed. "I don't care what kind of deal you made with my father. I'm not part of it."

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"Then how do you propose your father pays back four million dollars?" Dominic asked. "Will you take out a loan? Work double shifts at the hospital? Sell plasma?"

I flinched, but I held my ground. "We'll figure it out."

"You have three days before Kane kills him," Dominic said flatly. "You won't figure it out."

"Then what do you want?" I demanded.

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

Lingered.

"I want you to move into my estate," he said. "For your protection."

I laughed. It came out sharp and bitter. "Protection. Right."

"Kane knows who you are now," Dominic continued. "He knows you're Robert's daughter. If he can't collect from your father, he'll collect from you."

"I can handle myself."

"Can you?" He reached out and caught my wrist, his thumb pressing against my pulse point. "Your heart is racing, Aria. Just like last night."

I yanked my hand back. "Don't touch me."

"You didn't say that last night."

Heat flooded my face. "That was different."

"Was it?"

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "Last night, I didn't know you were my father's friend. I didn't know you were going to swoop in and---and buy me like I'm some kind of---"

"I'm not buying you," Dominic interrupted. "I'm protecting you."

"By locking me in your house?"

"By keeping you alive."

His voice was hard now. Final.

I took a shaky breath. "What are the terms?"

"You live at my estate in the Hamptons. You don't leave without my security team. You don't contact Kane or anyone associated with him."

"For how long?"

"Until the threat is neutralized."

"And how long will that take?"

Dominic's jaw tightened. "As long as it takes."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I have."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep myself from shaking. "And if I say no?"

"Then your father dies," Dominic said simply. "And you'll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, waiting for Kane to collect."

Silence stretched between us.

"You're a bastard," I whispered.

"Yes," he agreed. "But I'm a bastard who keeps his word. Accept my terms, and I'll keep you safe. Both of you."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run.

But I thought of my father, broken and desperate, and I thought of Marcus Kane's men dragging him into an alley.

I thought of my mother's bracelet in Dominic's hand.

"Fine," I said. "I'll do it."

Dominic stepped closer, and before I could stop him, he clasped the bracelet around my wrist. His fingers lingered on my skin, warm and possessive.

"Good girl," he murmured.

I jerked my hand away, but the bracelet stayed.

A chain.

A claim.

"You have twenty-four hours to pack," Dominic said, straightening. "My driver will collect you tomorrow night."

"What about my classes? My clinical rotations?"

"I'll arrange for a leave of absence."

"You can't just---"

"I can," he interrupted. "And I will."

He turned toward the door, then paused. Looked back at me.

"One more thing, Aria."

"What?"

His eyes were cold. Empty.

"Don't try to run. I'll find you."

And then he was gone.