The Devil in the Ballroom
The air inside the grand ballroom was thick with wealth and whispered secrets.Crystal chandeliers cast golden reflections across the marble floors, while the scent of expensive cologne mingled with the delicate aroma of champagne.
Evelyn Monroe moved through the sea of power-hungry elites, her midnight-blue dress clinging to her frame as if it had been stitched onto her skin. She held her champagne flute with poise, though she had no intention of drinking.
She wasn't here to celebrate.She was here to hunt.
Across the room stood Damian Voss. The devil himself—draped in a tailored black suit, his presence commanding attention without uttering a word. He was every bit the villain the world painted him to be: sharp-jawed, calculated, and untouchable.
Evelyn's pulse quickened as she watched him from a distance. He spoke quietly to a senator, his lips barely moving, yet the man across from him seemed entranced by every word. Damian Voss didn't beg for power.He took it.
For three years, Evelyn had been unraveling his empire—an intricate web spun from shadows and fear. She had spoken to his victims, to the ones he'd ruined, and to those who'd vanished after crossing him. In her mind, he was a soulless tyrant, a man too consumed by greed to be human.
But seeing him now, with that smooth smirk and the calm of a man who owned the room, she began to wonder if the real danger wasn't in his cruelty—but in his charm.
She exhaled, steadying herself. Focus. She wasn't here to be dazzled. She was here to expose him.
Evelyn took a step forward, ready to move closer—when his eyes met hers.
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips.
Shit.
Her heart skipped. Had she been too obvious? Had he already seen through her? Her cover was airtight—an alias, a forged invitation, months of preparation. But in that single glance, she felt as if Damian Voss already knew everything.
The music swelled, couples waltzing in graceful circles, but neither of them looked away. With a subtle tilt of his head, Damian gestured toward the bar.An invitation.A challenge.
Every instinct screamed for her to walk away. But if she did, she would lose her chance.
So she made her choice.She walked straight into the lion's den.
The Bar
The bartender poured a dark amber liquid into Damian's glass before stepping back. Evelyn slid onto the stool beside him, her posture relaxed despite the warning bells in her head.
"You've been watching me," he murmured, his voice smooth as aged whiskey.
Evelyn arched an eyebrow, playing coy. "I could say the same about you."
His smirk deepened as he took a sip, the ice clinking softly against crystal."I make it a habit to notice the most interesting person in the room."
His voice sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. He was good—too good. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up like all the others who underestimated him.
"Flattery?" she mused. "I expected something more original from the infamous Damian Voss."
A low chuckle escaped him. For the first time, she saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes."Ah, so you know who I am."
Evelyn lifted her glass, letting the cool champagne steady her nerves."You have a reputation."
"And yet," he said softly, "here you are—sitting beside the villain."
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her flute. He was testing her, probing for cracks. She couldn't afford to give him any.
"The way I see it," she said smoothly, "powerful men like you thrive on reputation. Whether it's deserved or not—that's another question."
He studied her, silent and unreadable. The air between them sharpened, electric. Then, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that brushed her ear.
"Tell me, Evelyn Monroe," he murmured, her real name rolling off his tongue like a dark promise."Are you here to expose me—or to understand me?"
Her blood ran cold.
He knew.
Not just her name, but her purpose. Every carefully constructed wall threatened to crumble.And yet… he didn't sound angry. He sounded intrigued.
Before she could speak, Damian set his glass down and straightened.
"Let's play a game," he said, his tone unreadable. "One month. You stay in my world—no strings attached. At the end of it, I'll give you something no one else has ever gotten: a personal interview. The truth about everything I've done."
Evelyn's breath caught. A trap—or a challenge?
"I'd rather you tell me now," she said cautiously.
He smirked, knowing she wouldn't walk away. "Then it wouldn't be personal."
Her pulse hammered in her ears. One month. A chance to get closer—to uncover his secrets.But also, a chance for him to pull her into his darkness.
Damian Voss extended his hand—a deal with the devil himself.
Evelyn hesitated, her breath shaky.
Then she placed her hand in his.