The Devil's Terms

Kira's POV:

As expected, my bold bluff regarding his father made Dante Kincaid go rigid.

The mocking tilt of his mouth vanished in a heartbeat. His dark, calculating eyes locked onto mine, stripping away my thin layer of bravado with a single, scrutinizing stare. The silence in the expansive room stretched, thick and suffocating. He pushed his large hands flat against the polished mahogany surface and slowly stood up from his chair.

"You really are something," he murmured. The rough, low timbre of his voice sent a shockwave down my spine.

He rounded the massive desk and leaned casually against the edge. His expensive suit pulled tight across his broad chest, outlining the heavy muscle beneath the dark fabric. His relaxed posture was a blatant lie. The demeanor shifted. The bored billionaire was gone. The predator had arrived.

"But tell me, Kira," he challenged, tilting his head. "What else are you willing to give me? Because making Silas a laughingstock? That is effortless for me. I can strip him of his pride and tear his reputation to shreds without ever putting a ring on your finger."

My stomach dropped. He was right. A man with his immense wealth and ruthless connections did not need a fake marriage to crush his younger brother. He could do it with a single phone call.

But I desperately needed him.

The vivid memories of Silas’s betrayal flashed behind my eyes. The pathetic, stammering excuses he made when I caught him. The sheer, burning humiliation of knowing the man I loved had been lying to my face. If I walked away from my upcoming wedding with nothing to show for it, I would become the ultimate joke among our social circles. My friends, my classmates, every single person who had watched me flaunt our relationship on social media for years would pity me.

Worse, I needed Dante's endless resources to utterly destroy Silas. I wanted to rip him apart from the inside out. I needed to make him feel the exact same gut-wrenching pain I felt when I opened that door and saw him with another woman.

And beyond the bitter need for vengeance, there was my mother. Her failing heart was a ticking clock in my chest. If Dante threw me out of this office, I would have to go to the loan sharks who stalked the grimy edges of Oakhaven. I could see their bruised knuckles and hollow eyes. They would gladly hand over the cash to save her, trapping me in a lifetime of crushing debt, broken bones, and constant fear. The interest alone would bleed me dry for decades.

Dante was the only viable shield I had left.

I squared my shoulders, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the tremors in my hands. "I will give you a wife on paper. Nothing more."

The dimly lit office grew silent again. The shadows playing across Dante's sharp jawline made him look like a sculpted demon. He didn't speak right away. Instead, he pushed off the edge of his desk and began to approach me.

His steps were slow. Deliberate. Each strike of his Italian leather shoes against the hardwood floor sounded like a hunter closing in on a cornered deer.

I gripped my thighs, fighting the overwhelming urge to shrink back into the leather cushions. When he reached me, he didn't stop at a polite distance. He stepped right into my personal space. His large hands clamped down on the armrests of my chair. With a sudden, forceful pull, he spun the chair around so I was trapped, facing him directly.

He leaned down. We were so close the heat radiating from his chest seeped into my skin. The scent of cedar and expensive musk clouded my senses. Our noses almost brushed. Our breaths tangled in the narrow space between our mouths.

"You truly want my name, Kira?" he murmured directly against my ear. The deep rumble of his chest vibrated through the air. "Because if you take my name, you take everything that comes with it. My money. My fame. And my body."

Panic flared hot and bright in my chest. I immediately shook my head, my hands clenching into tight fists in my lap. I vehemently rejected the physical trap he was laying out.

"No," I demanded, keeping my gaze fierce. "I want a strictly contractual marriage. We set a strict one-year time limit. I will not sleep with you."

I refused to make that mistake again. I refused to risk developing genuine feelings for a man, let alone another Kincaid. I knew my own limits, and Dante’s bed was a danger zone I could not survive.

Dante didn't pull away. Instead, his lips curled into a wicked, devastating smirk.

"Oh, no, I need you to understand this, Birdie," he whispered, delivering a verbal blow that knocked the air from my lungs. "There will be no sleeping. Only fucking."

My pulse exploded. My entire body stiffened in the chair.

He leaned in a fraction closer, explicit and unflinching in his terms. His dark eyes burned with unfiltered carnal promise. He was not asking for romance. He was demanding raw, uninhibited submission.

"I will fuck you," he promised, his voice a dark caress. "And if you accept this arrangement, I will personally make Silas grovel at your feet. I will secure the best surgeon in the world for your dying mother. And I will guarantee you never have to work a grueling part-time shift again. You will have unlimited time and money to pursue your university dream of designing and making cars."

The blood roared in my ears. He laid a golden platter right in my lap, offering every single thing I had ever fought for, starved for, and bled for. My mother would live. Silas would suffer. My future would be secure.

My mind raced to process the staggering reality of his demands. He wanted my body. A purely sexual, transactional relationship.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. He was built like a Greek god, all hard muscle, sharp angles, and undeniable power radiating from every pore. Was selling my body to Dante Kincaid for a single year truly worse than falling prey to violent thugs who would break my legs for a missed payment? Was it worse than crawling back to a cheating coward like Silas and spending the rest of my life wondering who else he was sleeping with?

It was a transaction. Flesh for a future.

I inhaled a sharp breath, squaring my shoulders against the back of the chair. I met his unwavering stare head-on, refusing to blink.

"Fine," I declared. "I accept your conditions."

A dark satisfaction flashed in his eyes, but I wasn't finished.

"But if you go back on your word, Dante," I threatened fiercely, my voice dropping to a dangerous hiss, "I will ruin you. I will find a way, and I will burn your life to the ground."

A deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated in his throat. He looked amused by my defiance, treating my threat like a cute trick from a stray kitten. "You have my permission to try."

He finally straightened, stepping back and pulling the suffocating tension away with him. He shot his cuffs, casually checking his platinum watch. The polished metal caught the dim light of the office.

"We need to go," he stated matter-of-factly. "There is much to be done if we are getting married today."

I balked. My jaw dropped open. "Today?! What do you mean today?"

"The early bird gets the worm, Birdie," he mused, already turning toward his desk to grab his keys.

"I can't get married today!" I shouted in disbelief, surging to my feet. "I need to be at the hospital right now. My mom is lying in a bed waiting for me."

Dante paused. He let out a heavy sigh, turning back to look at me with maddening pragmatism. "Are you the one performing the surgery, Kira?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Then why do you need to be there?" he questioned, raising a dark brow.

"Because she is my mother!" I snapped, my chest heaving with desperate frustration. "I am her only immediate family. I am not leaving her alone to go sign a marriage certificate!"

He studied my distressed face for a long, agonizing moment. The hard, uncompromising lines of his jaw softened just a fraction. He relented.

"Fine. Give me a moment."

Without another word, he pulled his sleek phone from his inner jacket pocket. He dialed a number and pressed the speaker button, holding it out in the space between us so I could hear every word.

The line rang twice before a crisp, professional voice answered. "Oakhaven General Administration."

"Prepare an operating room immediately," Dante commanded. His tone brooked zero argument. It was the undeniable voice of a man who owned the world and expected it to spin on his axis.

There was a startled pause on the line. "Sir?"

"I am sending you a patient," Dante continued smoothly. "Her name is Miriam Sinclair. Ensure your staff is prepped for a bypass procedure. I want the chief of cardiovascular surgery scrubbed in and ready. You are to treat her as a V.I.P. patient. I expect her to receive nothing but the best care your hospital can provide."

My mouth fell open. I stared at him, my heart slamming against my ribs in rapid, frantic thumps.

The hospital administrator hesitated, clearly caught off guard by the sheer authority pouring through the speaker. "Understood, sir. We will begin prep immediately. May I ask... who is the patient to you?"

Dante’s dark gaze snapped to me. The intensity in his eyes was hot enough to brand my skin.

"My mother-in-law," he replied smoothly.

The breath hitched in my throat. I couldn't move. I couldn't blink.

The doctor on the line hesitated for a second before a soft, knowing chuckle filtered through the speaker. "Congratulations on the marriage, Mr. Kincaid."

Dante smiled, a lethal, triumphant curve of his lips. "Thank you."

He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket, his expression unreadable.

I just stood there, staring at him. My mind short-circuited. The sheer speed of his execution left me dizzy. A minute ago, I was begging for a loan. Now, my mother was getting the best surgeon in the city, and I was tied to the most dangerous man in Oakhaven.

What. The. Hell?