The Devil's Proposal

Talia yanked the cab door shut, dropping onto the cracked vinyl seat that reeked of stale coffee and wet wool. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she dumped her worn leather tote onto her lap, digging through the clutter. Her fingers scratched past expired transit passes, loose bobby pins, and crumpled receipts.

Panic clawed at her throat. If the USB drive holding Kaelen’s finalized Q4 corporate projections was still sitting on her kitchen counter next to the cold kettle, she was finished. Kaelen Voss would fire her without blinking. He would do it with that flat, dead expression he reserved for incompetent vendors and balance sheet errors.

At the bottom of the bag, her knuckles grazed cold metal. She pulled out the sleek drive, staring at the label etched with his financial files.

She exhaled with relief.

"Rough morning?" the driver asked in the rearview mirror.

She shoved the drive deep into a zippered inner pocket. "Something like that."

That was an understatement. The past week had been an endurance test designed to break her spirit. While normal people gathered around dining tables for Christmas dinner, Talia had spent the holiday sitting on a hard plastic chair in a municipal hospital ward. Her mother had slept through the night beneath thin cotton blankets, pale skin bruised by intravenous lines and monitors chiming in dull rhythm.

Back in her cramped apartment, five positive pregnancy tests stayed hidden beneath folded sweaters in the bottom drawer of her dresser. Five silent confirmations of a nightmare she could not afford to face.

Meanwhile, Kaelen had driven her without mercy. Emails at three in the morning. Revisions demanded on Christmas afternoon. A forty-page report scrapped because he disliked the font. The man was a heartless tyrant in bespoke Hugo Boss, running on ice and ruthless control.

A sane woman would have quit years ago, but resigning was an impossible fantasy.

Before Voss Dynamics, Talia had cleaned commercial office floors at dawn for pocket change. This job kept her family alive. Her salary paid for her mother’s dialysis, kept her brother Milo enrolled in community college, and held Roman—the loan shark circling their debts—off their backs. She needed every dollar Kaelen paid her, even if it cost her sanity.

The cab halted outside Voss Dynamics Tower, a monolith of steel and glass piercing the gray winter sky. Talia paid the driver, pulled her wool coat tight against the wind, and whispered toward the clouds. "Keep me alive today. Just let me survive him."

She pushed through the revolving doors into the lobby. Polished marble stretched across the vast floor, reflecting the harsh lighting overhead. Analysts and associates moved with hollow eyes, clutching paper coffee cups like weapons. Talia checked the digital clock above the security turnstiles. Eight forty-seven.

"Talia!"

The bright shout cut through the hum of the lobby. Chidi strode toward her from the elevators, swinging an iced coffee. His houndstooth scarf sat draped over his dark camel coat like he was walking a Milan runway rather than crossing an accounting department floor.

He stopped in front of her, narrowing his eyes with dramatic suspicion. "Hold on. Look at you. You are glowing."

She quickened her step toward the security gates. "Chidi, I am already late. Please don't start."

Chidi matched her stride, scanning his badge with a grin. "Oh, we are starting. Look at that skin. That is not the look of someone who spent five days editing spreadsheets. You met a man. You had holiday sex."

Heat rushed into Talia’s neck, threatening to climb into her cheeks. "I worked. That is all I did."

Chidi chuckled. "You are a terrible liar, darling. I know post-coital radiance when I see it. Spill the details right now."

Her phone vibrated in her palm with a sharp, double buzz.

Talia unlocked the screen. The preview notification made the blood drain from her face in an instant.

*Mr. Voss: My office. Now.*

Her stomach dropped straight into the floor.

Chidi dipped his head, reading the words over her shoulder before she could lock the display. "The overlord summons you."

Talia gripped the phone hard against her ribs. "I have to go."

Chidi stepped back with a sympathetic grimace. "Go quickly before he burns the building down. Though whatever you did this weekend, hold on to it. The glow suits you."

Talia did not look back. She broke into a fast walk toward the private elevator reserved for senior executive staff. Her low heels clicked in sharp staccato rhythm against the stone floor.

The elevator ride was agonizingly slow. Talia watched the digital numbers climb, her stomach twisting. In the mirrored doors, dark circles lingered beneath two layers of concealer. Her hair sat pinned in a severe knot at the nape of her neck. She looked like a woman holding herself together on sheer willpower.

The elevator chimed softly. The doors slid apart.

The top floor belonged solely to Kaelen Voss. His corner office opened with pristine, minimalist precision—monochromatic furniture, dark walnut accents, and floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the skyline. It was designed to intimidate.

Kaelen stood with his back to the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored charcoal trousers. His broad shoulders were squared against the gray light pouring through the glass. He wore his bespoke suit like armor, sharp and flawless.

He did not turn when her heels clicked against the hardwood threshold.

Talia cleared her throat, clutching her leather bag firmly across her abdomen like a shield. "Good morning, Mr. Voss. I have the updated projections."

Silence answered her. The air in the office felt dense and pressurized.

Panic flared behind her ribs. Did he know? Had someone at the pharmacy recognized her? Had security footage caught what happened in the fire stairwell? If he discovered the pregnancy, he would fire her on the spot. She would lose the medical insurance. Her mother would lose her hospital bed.

"Sit down."

The command came low, flat, and final.

Talia stepped forward, her knees stiff as she took the black leather chair across from his desk. She lowered herself slowly, pressing her thighs together. She linked her fingers in her lap to hide the trembling.

Kaelen turned from the window. His dark, sharp eyes fixed onto hers with cold precision. His face was an unreadable mask. No irritation, no arrogance, no warmth. Just that terrifying, analytical focus he used when dissecting an acquisition target.

The silence dragged on. Ten seconds. Twenty. Talia felt the pulse hammering against her throat. Her fingers dug into her skirt, fighting the urge to run before he spoke.

Then his mouth opened, releasing two words that shattered the quiet.

"Marry me."

Talia stopped breathing.

Her mind locked up. She heard the English words, registered their definitions, but her brain refused to assemble them into reality. Had he sustained a head injury over the break? Did he think the frantic encounter against the concrete wall of the stairwell meant something romantic? Or had he uncovered the secret growing inside her body and devised some horrific, controlling trap?

She parted her lips, but only a broken syllable emerged. "I..."

"Do you need me to repeat myself?"

His voice carried no hesitation, smooth and deadly calm like deep water.

Talia’s mouth opened and shut. No sound followed. Her heart hammered against her ribcage with wild force.

Kaelen Voss, the ruthless corporate king who had made her life hell for three years, the boss who had fucked her against the door of a dark stairwell and discarded her the moment it ended, was staring at her with lethal seriousness.

He was not joking.