Making a Deal with the Devil

Emma

As I stood in front of the mirror in my new room, running a towel over my damp skin, I tried not to think about how ridiculous I looked pretending this was normal. The silk robe I had draped over the chair caught my eye, but I ignored it, opting for my usual lacy black set.  

The truth? I didn’t feel like dressing for comfort. I didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction of thinking I was trying to impress him, even indirectly. This was not a second honeymoon.  

I tugged the strap of my bra into place and pushed my damp hair off my shoulders. My reflection stared back at me and that was when I noticed a figure standing by the doorway like some smug predator who knew exactly what he was doing.  

Zane.  

I gasped wide eyed, grabbing the robe from the chair and pressing it against my chest as I spun around.  

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, my heart pounding loudly against my chest.  

Jesus Christ! This man had just seen me half naked!

Zane leaned against the doorframe, the smirk on his face nothing short of annoying. His inked arms crossed over his chest, the tattoos winding their way across his tanned skin like a dark and dangerous story I didn’t want to read.  

“You’re in my house, Emma.” His voice was low and almost amused. “Do I really need to knock?”  

“Yes!” I snapped, holding the robe tighter against me. “That’s basic human decency, Zane. Ever heard of it?”  

His smirk deepened, and he took a step into the room. I instinctively backed away, my bare feet brushing against the cold wood floor.  

“I’ve already given you more privacy than I should.” He said, his eyes flicking to the bed and then back to my half clad body. “Letting you have your own room when you’re supposed to be sleeping in my room and warming my bed as my wife? Generous, don’t you think?”  

“Generous?” I repeated with a scoff of disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself?”  

He took another step forward, and the air in the room shifted, thickened.  

“Zane, don’t.” I warned, but he ignored me, his gaze moving over me like he was taking his time cataloging every inch. His closeness was suffocating, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way he carried himself, the way his confidence filled every corner of the room, leaving no space for me to breathe.  

“Relax.” He murmured as he reached me, his hard torso pressed lightly against my stomach, causing the space in between my legs to tighten and swell. I gulped as his hand brushed a strand of wet hair away from my face. His fingers were warm, and I hated how my body tensed.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He added and I stepped back, but he followed, his hand sliding to the curve of my hip.  

“Stop it.” I said, my voice unsteady now.  

“Why should I stop?” His voice came in a raspy whisper now as his piercing, midnight blue eyes locked into mine, daring me to stop him. “Give me one reason why I should stop.”

I planted my hands firmly on his hard chest, pushing him away. But Zane didn’t look annoyed. If anything, he looked amused. Like he was enjoying this. 

“I won’t let you sleep with me, Zane.” I blurted out but Zane’s smirk only widened. 

“You’re my wife. I don’t recall asking for your permission.”  

“This isn’t a real marriage.” I glared at him. “You brought me from my parents. So, don’t pretend it is.”  

Zane caught my wrist, holding it gently but firmly enough to make me pause. 

“You’ve been gone five years, Emma.” His tone was serious now. “I’m not going to let you slip away again.”  

“I’m not running.” I shot back, wrenching my hand free.  

His smile twisted into something darker, more predatory. 

“Good. Because you won’t get far.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear, causing heat to rise up my face again. “There are men stationed at every door, every corner. If you so much as step outside without my permission, they’ll bring you back to me.”  

I plastered a smirk of my own and clenched my jaw. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I said coldly. “I’m not planning to run. I’m planning to kill myself.”  

For the first time, his expression faltered. It was only for a split second, but I saw it —a flicker of fear. He quickly camouflaged it under his usual mask of cold indifference.  

“Is that what you want, Em? To be free of me?”  

My stomach tightened in knots. ‘Em’. That was the way he used to call me when we were still together five years ago. He had no right to call me by that name again.

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly, as if weighing my words. 

“Then let’s make a deal.”  

I raised a brow. “What kind of deal?”  

“One year.” His voice was steady and serious. “Stay married to me for one year. If you’re still unhappy after that, I’ll let you go. No strings attached.”  

For real?

I studied him, searching his face for any sign of deceit. 

“You’d let me walk away?”  

“I’d let you leave.” His tone was almost convincing. Then his gaze darkened, his eyes locking onto mine. “But on one condition.”  

I narrowed my eyes. “What condition?”  

“We consummate the marriage.”  

My stomach flipped, and I stepped back, putting as much distance between us as I could. Consummate the marriage? I was never planning to sleep with him in the first place!

“No!” I said firmly. “I’d never!”

“Then there’s no deal.” He replied, his voice annoyingly calm.  

I stared at him, my mind racing. As much as I didn’t want to sleep with him, the thought of being trapped here with this same man who had once broken my heart and who I hated so much, was unbearable. I analyzed the two situations. Be in this marriage for one year and gain my freedom or stay married to him forever and be subject to whatever he wanted to do to me?

From the look of things, the first option was the best.

“Fine.” I said finally, the word tasting like poison on my tongue. “But only under one condition of my own.”  

His brow arched, intrigued. “I’m listening.”  

“If I’m happy by the end of the year, you let me decide what happens next.”  

His smirk returned, lazy and annoying. 

“If you’re happy by the end of the year, Em, I won’t need to let you decide anything.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“It means…” He said, stepping closer again, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. “That if you’re happy, you’re mine. Forever.”  

I opened my mouth to argue, but his fingers trailed down to my hand, his touch setting my skin on fire.  

“Get some rest.” He murmured, his smirk softening into something almost tender. “Goodnight Em.”

Then, just like that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone. I smiled bitterly as I watched him leave. 

If he thought that this was going to be easy, he had got another thing coming.

I would make sure I make this marriage the worst experience of his life, that he wouldn’t think twice about letting me go.