Ashley stood frozen.
The pen in her hand trembled as her eyes scanned the final line of the contract she'd just signed. Her signature stared back at her in bold, permanent ink. Beside it, in crimson lettering that shimmered unnaturally, was Raphael V. Alastair. The ink of his name didn't look like any ink she had seen before—it seemed to pulse slightly, like it had a heartbeat of its own.
"You've signed your soul away, darling," Raphael said, voice smooth as silk and deadly as a dagger dipped in honey. He leaned forward on the desk, fingers laced together, those crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim, golden light of his office.
Ashley's mouth went dry. "It's... it's just an employment contract, right?"
Raphael chuckled. "Of course. You'll assist me. Handle certain... delicate matters. Help me maintain order."
Her brow furrowed. "What kind of matters?"
"The kind that require obedience," he said, slowly rising to his feet. "And loyalty. Both of which I reward very generously."
Ashley could barely breathe as he walked toward her. There was something magnetic about him. Every step he took toward her made her heartbeat quicken—and not just from fear. He was stunning, but not in a safe way. He was danger wrapped in a tailored black suit and a devil's grin.
He stopped inches from her, reaching out to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Do you feel it?" he whispered.
"Feel what?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"This pull between us. The contract doesn't just bind you to me—it awakens something in you. Something hungry."
Ashley took a shaky step back. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled. "But you'll find madness is far more entertaining than monotony."
Her body betrayed her. As much as her brain screamed to run, her skin tingled where he'd touched her. Her thoughts were a blur, heat rising to her cheeks, her thighs tightening instinctively.
He tilted his head. "Are you wet, Ashley?"
Her heart stuttered. "What?"
"I said—" he leaned close enough for his lips to brush her ear, "—are you wet?"
She shoved him back, face burning. "What kind of employer says that to his assistant?"
Raphael didn't flinch. He simply straightened his suit, amused. "One who owns you now. Body, mind, and eventually... soul."
"You're disgusting," she snapped.
"I'm honest."
He walked back to his desk and pressed a button. A panel in the wall slid open, revealing a narrow hallway lined with black velvet.
"Come," he said. "Your quarters are ready."
"I'm not staying here."
"You don't have a choice anymore. You accepted the position. That means you live where I live, work when I command it, and obey when I speak."
She swallowed hard. "This isn't how jobs work."
"This isn't a job," he said. "This is a contract with the Devil. I am your employer, your keeper, and your temptation."
Ashley felt her knees weaken. She wanted to hate him—but the way he spoke, the way he looked at her like she was prey and he was the only predator that mattered—it stirred something inside her she didn't know existed.
He gestured toward the hallway.
Her feet moved before her mind caught up.
The hall was quiet, lit by low sconces that cast flickering shadows along the walls. The air was warm, thick with the scent of clove and leather. She could feel Raphael walking behind her—his presence, his power, the way it curled around her like invisible chains.
At the end of the hall, he opened a dark wooden door.
The room inside was lavish. A king-sized bed draped in black satin sheets. Velvet curtains. A chandelier that flickered with red-tinted crystals. It looked like a bedroom carved straight out of sin.
"This will be your space," Raphael said. "Unless you choose to share mine."
She turned to him sharply. "That's not happening."
He smirked. "Not yet."
Ashley marched into the room and slammed the door in his face.
Or tried to.
The door didn't close.
He had his foot between it and the frame. "One more thing."
She narrowed her eyes.
"In my home, you wear what I give you," he said.
Before she could protest, he tossed a black silk box onto the bed.
Ashley lifted the lid with trembling fingers—and gasped.
Inside was a lingerie set unlike anything she'd ever seen. Black lace, sheer panels, tiny crimson gemstones. The kind of thing you didn't wear for comfort. You wore it to be seen.
"You're insane," she muttered.
"You're mine," he replied.
She slammed the door and this time it closed.
Ashley paced the room for the next hour, her mind spinning. What had she signed? Who was this man? Was this even real? The job ad had seemed normal—high pay, confidential tasks, live-in assistant. She'd been desperate. Now, she was trapped.
Her fingers drifted back to the box.
She didn't want to open it again. But part of her already had.
---
Hours passed.
There was a knock on the door.
She opened it a crack and saw a tall woman with silver hair, holding a tray.
"Dinner," the woman said. "Mr. Alastair insists you eat."
Ashley accepted the tray in silence. On it was a meal fit for a queen—perfectly grilled steak, wine, decadent desserts.
The woman didn't leave.
"Anything else?" Ashley asked.
"You have your first task tonight," the woman said. "Prepare."
"Task?"
"You'll see."
---
Nightfall.
Ashley stood in front of the mirror.
She hadn't meant to wear it—the lingerie. But somehow, it had found its way onto her skin. She wore a black robe over it now, thin and soft. The silk clung to her curves, and the lace beneath it peeked out at the edges.
She hated how good she looked.
She hated how curious she was to see what Raphael would do when he saw her like this.
The door opened on its own.
A whisper on the air: Come.
She stepped out into the hallway, drawn by an unseen force.
At the end of the hall was a second door. One she hadn't noticed before.
She opened it.
Inside was a study—lined with books, shadows, and candles.
And Raphael.
He sat in a leather chair, legs crossed, a glass of wine in hand. He didn't look up immediately.
But when he did—
His eyes trailed over her slowly, darkening.
"You wore it," he said, voice thick with desire.
"I didn't mean to."
"That's what I love about you," he said, setting his glass aside. "You say one thing, but your body says another."
He stood.
And when he did, something inside her broke.
He stalked toward her with the grace of a panther, then stopped inches away, his breath brushing her cheek.
"Tonight," he said, "you obey. No questions."
She should've said no.
But all that came out was: "Yes, Sir."