"What are you saying?"
He leaned in so close their faces were just inches apart. "You know exactly what I'm saying."
Scarlett's back pressed against the wall, Devil's warmth enveloping her.
"Devil, we… we should go downstairs—"
"Answer me first. Who were you with?"
"I can't tell you—"
His jaw clenched tight.
"Fine. I'll find out myself," he said, starting to move away.
Scarlett grabbed his hand. "Wait, please… Don't tell anyone."
He looked at her, eyes now wounded. "You keep secrets from me, Scarlett. But you always ask me for help."
"Devil—"
"You know what's worst?" He freed his hand. "You're with someone else. And I'm here… standing like a fool."
"Devil, you don't understand—"
"Oh, I understand perfectly."
He turned to leave.
"48 hours," Scarlett blurted suddenly.
He stopped. "What?"
Scarlett hesitated. "I… I have to solve something in 48 hours. A problem. If I fail, everything ends."
Devil turned slowly. "What kind of problem?"
Before she could reply, David's voice echoed. "Devil! You up there?"
Devil looked at Scarlett, eyes burning. "Yeah, coming!" he yelled back.
He leaned closer, whispering, "We'll meet tomorrow morning. You'll tell me everything. Everything."
"Devil—"
"This is not a request, Scarlett. It's a demand."
He swept away, leaving Scarlett shivering in the hallway.
She retreated to her room, locked the door, and opened the old envelope. She stared again at the photo.
48 hours.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
A message:
"Did you read our message, Scarlett? The clock is ticking. Tomorrow 8 PM. Warehouse on 5th street. Come alone. Or we send these photos to your family."
Her trembling hands dropped the phone.
Tomorrow. 8 PM.
She had to go. But what would they demand? And—could she face them alone?
Suddenly another notification lit up. An Instagram DM.
A video.
Scarlett hit play, and her blood froze.
It was outside the hotel—Michael and Scarlett kissing. Clearly visible.
Caption:
"Want more? Meet us tomorrow. Don't disappoint us, Miss Billionaire."
Miss Billionaire.
They knew. Everything. Her secret identity. Her hidden fortune. All of it.
Her hands hovered over the screen, ready to delete the file, but another message pinged:
"P.S. — We're watching you. Right now. Look outside your window."
Scarlett's eyes darted to the window, curtains half closed.
Out in the darkness… a red laser dot.
Directly lined up with her head.
Scarlett froze, her breath stuck as the sharp red laser hovered over her forehead. Three slow seconds passed before the light vanished into darkness. Her hands trembled as she lunged to draw the curtains closed. Her heart thudded in her chest, pain blooming with panic: right now, at this very moment, they were watching her.
Her phone buzzed—a new message.
"Good girl. Closed the curtains. Now sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day. And if you tell anyone... you know what happens."
Shaken, Scarlett threw her phone onto the bed and rushed to the bathroom. Cold water splashed over her face. The mirror revealed eyes drowned in terror, pale skin.
"Pull yourself together, Scarlett," she whispered to her reflection. "You've beaten worse threats before."
But this was different. Her family's honor was at stake.
Returning to her bedroom, she stared at her phone. Michael. He had always appeared whenever she needed help. But was he truly trustworthy this time? Would he rescue her, or pull her deeper into danger? What did she actually know about Michael—his power, his secrets, the strange world he belonged to?
One truth held firm: he had always come for her.
Scarlett dialed his number.
A ring. Two.
"Scarlett," Michael's deep and steady voice, almost as if he'd been waiting for her call.
"Michael… I need to meet you. Right now."
A moment of silence.
"What happened?"
"I can't explain on the phone. Please… I need you."
"Okay. Same place. Thirty minutes."
The call ended. Quickly, she changed—black jeans, tight top, leather jacket. Hair tied up, nerves prickling as she crept out of her room.
Halfway to the door, footsteps echoed in the corridor. She peeked outside—Devil was heading to his own room but caught sight of her.
"Scarlett?" he called. "Where are you going this late?"
"Just… going downstairs for water."
His gaze swept over her, noting the jacket and jeans—hardly clothes for grabbing a drink.
"Bullshit," he said softly, stepping closer.
"Devil, please—"
His eyes burned with anger.
"You're meeting him again, aren't you? The man who leaves marks on your neck?"
"That's not—"
"Don't," he gripped her arm. "Don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes."
Her heart pounded as his hold tightened—not painful, but impossible to escape.
"I have to go," she said.
"Why? Who is he?"
"I can't tell."
"Is he blackmailing you? Are you in trouble?"
She didn't respond, but her eyes said everything. Devil's jaw set hard.
"I'm coming with you."
"No—"
"That's not your choice."
"Devil, please. It's too dangerous—"
"Exactly. That's why I won't let you go alone."
They stared each other down. Finally Scarlett surrendered.
"Fine. But you don't say a word. You stay silent."
"Deal."
They left quietly, slipping into her car. She started the engine.
"Where are we going?" Devil asked.
"Old highway. There's an abandoned motel."
He said nothing, gazing out the window as they drove through silent, lamp-lit streets. The motel was run-down, deserted. Michael preferred places no one visited.
Scarlett parked, noticing room seven's door slightly ajar.
"Wait here," she instructed Devil.
"What? No—"
"Please. Trust me."
He held her gaze, then nodded.
She exited and approached the door, heart drumming in her chest. She pushed inside—darkness filled the room.
"Michael?" she called out.
Suddenly, the lights flared on.
He stood before her—tall, in black clothes, broad-shouldered, those hypnotic, intense eyes.
"Scarlett," he spoke her name like a sacred prayer.
She rushed to him. "Michael, I'm in trouble. Someone found out about us."
His face remained unreadable.
"Who?"
"I don't know. They sent me photos. Called me to a warehouse tomorrow."
"Warehouse?"
Scarlett explained everything—envelope, photos, threats, the laser dot. Michael listened silently, stony-faced.
"You will not go to the warehouse," he declared.
"But if I don't, they'll send the photos to my family—"
"I'll handle it."
"How?"
He stepped up, strong hands cupping her face, warmth radiating.
"Do you trust me?"
She nodded.
"Then just believe. I'll find them. And… I'll teach them a lesson."
There was darkness in his vow—a dangerous promise.
"Michael… who are you, really? How do you have so much power?"
He smiled, pressing a finger to her lips.
"Some answers don't exist, love."
"But—"
He kissed her deeply—intense and possessive. She melted against him, their bodies entwined. He eased her onto the bed.
"Tonight, you're only mine," he whispered, undoing her jeans.
"Michael… Devil's outside—"
He stopped, a sharp look flickering.
"Who?"
"Devil. Mia's son. He came with me."
Michael rose, checked the window—Devil sat in the car, frowning at his phone.
"What does he know?" Michael asked coldly.
"Nothing. He just saw me leave."
"Hmm," Michael mused, then turned back to her.
"We'll have to hurry."
Michael undressed her, gazing at her body.
"Every time I look at you… you're more beautiful."
He peeled off his shirt, revealing a muscular, scarred body. Strange marks—claw-like—traced his skin. Scarlett had never asked about them, sensing he was far from ordinary.
Michael pressed his lips to her neck, then lower. He unhooked her bra with expert fingers, mouth exploring with an urgency that set Scarlett ablaze.
"Ahh… Michael…" she moaned.
He circled her nipple with his tongue, gently biting, fingers tangled in her hair. Her body burned.
He stripped her underwear, leaving her bare. His hands roamed her thighs, slow and teasing.
"Please… Michael…" she begged.
"Please what?" he teased.
"Touch me… there…"
He obliged, fingers circling her slick center. Scarlett arched, breathing ragged.
"Fuck… yes… right there…"
He slid a finger inside. Then two. Gentle, then rough. Faster.
"You're so wet," he whispered. "Just for me."
"Only… only for you…"
He removed his pants, revealing himself—hard and ready.
"Ready?" he asked.
Scarlett nodded.
With a swift motion, he was inside her, filling her completely.
"Ahhhh!" she cried out.
He paused. "Does it hurt?"
"No… just… you're so… big…"
Michael smiled, then began to move—slowly, then faster. Scarlett wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Faster… please… faster…"
His pace quickened, every thrust deeper than before. The bed shook. Their cries filled the room.
"Fuck… Michael… I'm… I'm close…"
"Look at me," he commanded.
She met his gaze, lost in eyes so deep they seemed almost inhuman. Just for a moment, she thought she saw them change—glowing gold, wild like a beast.
But in that moment, Scarlett shattered, the orgasm overtaking her, body shaking, all she could utter was his name.
"Michael… Michael… fuck… Michael…"
He came with her, warmth flooding her.
Exhausted, they lay side by side, covered in sweat.
After silence, Scarlett asked, "Your eyes… did they just change?"
He paused.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Maybe I imagined it."
He pulled her close.
"You should go. That boy is waiting outside."
Scarlett dressed hurriedly.
"Don't go to the warehouse tomorrow," he repeated. "I'll take care of it."
"Okay."
She stopped at the door.
"Michael… you're different. I know. But… it doesn't matter to me."
He smiled softly.
"I know."
Outside, cold air woke her from her fever. Scarlett climbed into the car. Devil's eyes widened as he saw her—hair tousled, lips swollen, face flushed.
"You… did you just… with him?" Devil's voice trembled.
Scarlett said nothing, just started the engine.
"Scarlett, answer me. Did you just fuck that guy?"