Chapter 24 DEVIL THREATHS [FLASHBACK]
Chapter 24 DEVIL THREATHS [FLASHBACK]
The tray in my hands wobbled for the third time tonight.
I didn’t spill—because I was a professional, obviously. And by professional, I meant a desperate woman who’d swallowed her dignity and duct-taped it to the heel of her stolen stilettos.
The club was buzzing. Laughter, smoke, money, men. Red velvet and mirrored walls. My dress was too tight, my patience even tighter, and if one more man called me "babe" while trying to tip me with loose poker chips, I was going to commit a small felony.
“Whiskey, neat,” barked the man in the corner booth, snapping his fingers like I was an obedient Labrador. I gave him the smile of someone who was two seconds away from jamming that whiskey glass down his throat.
Then I felt it.
A presence.
Heat.
Like someone had reached through the haze of cigar smoke and lit a match behind my neck.
I turned slowly.
Zade Solenzara.
Leaning against the bar like he owned time. Black shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a glimpse of sin, hair ruffled like some lover had run her hands through it—probably the devil himself. He wasn’t looking at me, not exactly, but I knew damn well I was the reason his lips curled the way they did.
He crooked a finger.
Subtle. Lazy.
But my spine straightened like I was being dragged by puppet strings.
“I’m working,” I muttered, brushing past a waitress.
The club manager caught my arm. “Go. Now. Boss wants you.”
Boss. Ugh.
I dropped the tray on the counter and followed him—through the crowd, past the noise, down the hall behind the main floor, until the world shifted.
Quieter. Darker. Carpet that muffled my steps. Gold sconces casting shadows on navy walls. Private territory.
He opened a door without looking at me and walked in.
I hesitated.
The door didn’t.
It closed behind me like a verdict.
I stayed near the threshold. He didn’t tell me to sit. Just poured himself a drink at the bar inside the room and leaned his hip against it.
“You look good in black,” he said, sipping lazily.
“You look like trouble in it,” I shot back, arms crossed. “What do you want, Zade?”
He studied me. And then?
“I want to marry you.”
I laughed.
Loud. Messy. Unladylike.
“Oh, that’s rich. Try again. Better punchline next time.”
“I’m serious.”
“Even worse.”
He placed the glass down with a soft clink. “You said you’d do anything.”
“To save my sister and the orphanage,” I said through my teeth. “Not to star in your personal mafia rom-com.”
His gaze darkened, slow and steady like a tide rolling in to drown me.
“This isn’t a joke,” he said.
“No,” I agreed. “It’s a nightmare with good lighting.”
He didn’t move. Just watched. Like a lion watching a mouse that forgot it wasn’t a lion too.
“I could make you disappear,” he said softly. “I could erase your sister’s debt. Burn the paperwork. Turn it all into smoke.”
“And in return?” I asked, jaw clenched.
“You.”
“Oh wow.” I laughed again. “What happened, Zade? Did your real fiancée say no so you’re settling for the waitress who called you an egomaniac?”
He pushed off the bar.
One step.
Two.
He didn’t rush, but the air in the room got smaller with every inch he claimed. My heart pounded so loud it felt obscene.
“I don’t do charity,” he said. “You think this is some twisted fairytale offer? I’m not asking for a wedding night and a bouquet. I’m offering power. Safety. Control. The Solenzara name.”
“You think I care about that?”
“I think you care about survival.”
He was in front of me now. Not touching. But close enough that I had to tilt my chin to meet his eyes.
“Say no,” he said, voice like velvet over steel, “and Steccy burns with that orphanage. Say no, and I’ll let my men finish what they started.”
“You’re a monster,” I whispered.
“No,” he murmured, leaning down just slightly. “I’m your salvation. And unfortunately for you, salvation always comes with a price.”
I swallowed. My throat was dry. My skin burned where his breath touched it.
“You really want to tie yourself to someone like me?” I asked, voice shaking despite my sarcasm. “Bad for your reputation, don’t you think? I steal towels from hotel rooms and curse at overpriced wine.”
“I want someone who bites,” he said, mouth ghosting over the shell of my ear. “Someone who knows how to survive. I want you.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
He pulled back, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face—soft, like we were lovers already.
Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned away and headed for the door.
“You have twenty-four hours,” he said over his shoulder. “Then I propose to someone else.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
And I stood there, fists clenched, heart breaking itself open in the silence he left behind.