Chapter 2: Meeting the Devil

Elena's Point Of View

The engine purred softly as I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white against the smooth leather. The city sprawled before me, a labyrinth of glass and steel under the relentless glare of the afternoon sun. My father's office which was about to become my office now, loomed in the distance. Returning to Torres Enterprises for the first time since the funeral felt like walking into a battlefield unarmed.

My father’s empire was all I had left of him. The weight of the responsibility pressed down on me, making my breaths shallow. I’d spent days convincing myself that I was ready to step into his shoes, to salvage what was left of our legacy. Yet here I was, my stomach twisting in knots, feeling anything but prepared.

The underground parking lot was cavernous and eerily quiet, except for the echo of my heels clicking against the concrete. The shadows seemed longer here, stretching unnaturally across the space. As I approached the elevator, my fingers brushed against the cool metal of the button, but before I could press it, two men stepped into my path.

They were enormous, dressed in tailored suits that failed to mask their bulk. Their expressions were unreadable, their eyes cold and calculating. A chill ran down my spine as I stopped short, my pulse quickening.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice firm despite the unease clawing at my insides. "I need to get upstairs."

One of the men didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black phone, holding it out to me.

“What’s this supposed to be?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Take it,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

I hesitated, glancing between the phone and the men. Something about the whole situation felt wrong, but curiosity or maybe defiance pushed me forward. Slowly, I took the phone from his outstretched hand.

"Hello?" I said cautiously, holding it to my ear.

The voice that answered was deep, smooth, and laced with a menace that sent shivers down my spine. "Miss Torres."

The sound of my name spoken in that tone made my blood run cold. "Who is this?"

"Meet me at the café across from your building," the voice commanded, ignoring my question.

"Wait," I said, my grip tightening on the phone. "Who are you?"

There was a pause, long enough to make me think the call had ended. Then came the answer, just two words, spoken with an authority that brooked no argument.

"Nicholas De Luca."

The line went dead.

I stood there, frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear. My breath came in short bursts as the weight of the name sank in. The man who now owned my father’s debts, my family’s legacy and me had just summoned me like a pawn on his chessboard.

The men stepped aside, as if on cue, and I didn’t wait to question them. I shoved the phone into his hand and stalked back to my car, my heart pounding against my ribs. The café wasn’t far; I could be there in minutes.

As I drove, the name Nicholas De Luca echoed in my mind, a ghost haunting every corner of my thoughts. I had no idea what to expect. A businessman? A thug? A monster? Whoever he was, he held the keys to everything that would happen to me from now henceforth.

The café was small and unassuming, its glass windows reflecting the afternoon light. I pushed through the door, the soft chime of a bell announcing my arrival. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet, but the comforting scent did nothing to calm the storm raging inside me.

A man seated at a corner table by the window caught my eye immediately. He didn’t wave, didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. He exuded power in a way that was almost tangible, like an invisible force pulling everyone’s attention toward him.

Nicholas De Luca.

He was devastatingly handsome in a way that felt dangerous. His tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, the crisp white shirt beneath unbuttoned just enough to hint at a muscular chest. Dark hair fell across his forehead in deliberate disarray, framing piercing green eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

“Elena Torres,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet and twice as lethal.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to approach the table. “Mr. De Luca.”

“Sit.” It wasn’t a request.

I obeyed, my movements stiff as I lowered myself into the chair across from him. He leaned back, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, as if he owned not just the café but the entire city.

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a document, placing it on the table between us. My heart sank as I recognized it immediately. The marriage contract.

“This,” he said, tapping the paper with a long, elegant finger, “is your father’s signature, yes?”

My mouth went dry as I nodded.

He leaned forward then, his green eyes boring into mine. “Your father made a deal with me. In exchange for saving his company now you belong to me now.”

“I’m not some…some piece of property to be owned!” I snapped, my voice louder than I intended. A few heads turned, but I didn’t care.

Nicholas smirked, as if my outburst amused him. “You are just a collateral, Elena. A guarantee that no debt goes unpaid.”

“This is insane,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You can’t just force me into a marriage simply because my father owes you.”

“Then I leave you with two choices,” he said, his tone cold and matter-of-fact. “Marry me, or pay your father’s debt in full. Twelve million dollars by the end of the week, with an additional five million as interest annually for the next twelve years.”

My stomach churned at the impossible demand. “That's... no one could—”

“I could,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “But you? I doubt it.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. He was giving me an ultimatum, a choice that wasn’t a choice at all. Either way, I would lose everything... my freedom, my father’s legacy, my entire life as I knew it.

He stood then, towering over me, his presence suffocating. “The clock is ticking, Miss Torres. Make your decision wisely.”

Without another word, he stood up, turned and walked out of the café, leaving me sitting there, trembling with rage and despair.

I stared down at the contract, my vision blurred by unshed tears. The weight of his words pressed down on me, crushing the air from my lungs.

Nicholas De Luca had made his move, and now the game was mine to play. But no matter what I chose, I knew one thing for certain.

I was already trapped.