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“Do I frighten you, Miss Murphy?” The Devil’s treacle-thick voice brings me back into the restaurant. When I force myself to look up, he’s pouring me a glass of blood-red wine.
There’s a manic excitement swirling in those amber eyes. It feels like he’s practically salivating at the idea of hearing me say yes. Like it’d be more delicious than this enormous chocolate cake that separates us.
I’ve been here before. Face-to-face with the Devil, feeling sick with fear. But I’ve worked too hard to escape him.
Despite the tremor running through my bones on a continuous loop, I make up my mind right here and now.
I. Will. Not.
I refuse to give the Devil what I know he wants. My fear.
You’re not a coward like your father, remember?
“I’m not scared, I’m surprised.” He raises a thick eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. “I assumed a man like you could at least count.” With a shaking hand, I plunge a fork into the cake and then scoop the bite into my mouth. It sticks to my dry throat, threatening to clog my airway. Even with the fear that the wine could be drugged, I have no choice but to swig from it to stop myself from dying in front of the Devil. Because death by chocolate is not the way I’m going down. “You said you’d come for me on my eighteenth birthday. Math clearly isn’t your strong point.”
The fire that flashes across his eyes gives me a hit of both satisfaction and terror. It’s quickly replaced with an amused smirk.
“I assure you I can count, Miss Murphy. But you were expecting me on your eighteenth birthday. I’m a man that enjoys the element of surprise.” He glances over his shoulder. “Another.”
Like a dog responding to its owner, the waitress rips back the curtain and brings another glass of whatever he’s drinking to the table.
A buzzing sound interrupts the silence. We both stare at the source. My YSL clutch on the side of the table.Sam.He’ll be worried about me, wondering where I am. This is it. This is my lifeline.
My body reacts before my brain does and I lunge for my purse, ripping back the gold zipper.
“It’s adorable that you’re even contemplating answering that, Miss Murphy,” he drawls, taking a lazy sip of his drink.
I tear my eyes away from his hard gaze and glance at the screen. Sam’s name is like a beacon of light, the sliver of hope in the darkness of hell. My finger hovers over the answer button. If I can just say enough to let him know I’m in danger, he’ll figure out the rest. If I just answer and scream the name of the restaurant down the line, he’ll come and save me. Call the police. I glance up at the Devil and my heart sinks.
He’s huge. His beastly frame pushes against the expensive fabric of his suit, unable to hide the bulging biceps and broad shoulders. Sam, with his slender, runner’s body is no match against this man. With or without the Stanford police force behind him.
“Pass me the phone,” he says. The words slide from his mouth like ice, so calm that I shudder. There’s that hypnotic gaze again. The one that pinned me to the pew at the fake funeral all those years ago. I might have grown up, filled out, and became a strong, independent woman, but it still has the exact same effect on me.
Unable to move, I have no fight in me when he slips my clutch out of my grip and tugs my cell out. He glances at the screen, sneers, and drops my phone into his glass.
The brown liquid sloshes onto the white table cloth and I stare in disbelief as my cell snaps, crackles, and pops like a bowl of cereal before the screen goes black.
“Another,” the Devil says over his shoulder. The waitress arrives with a new glass and leaves with my only lifeline.
“You can’t do that,” I choke, “that’s mine.” I know how pathetic I sound.
The Devil laughs. Finally, he has a reaction out of me. He leans across the table, closing the gap between us. “Look at me, Miss Murphy,” he demands. My breath hitches in my chest as I force myself to meet his gaze. “You have a lot to learn, but we’ll start with the very basics. Nothing belongs to you now, because you belong to me.”
I can’t breathe. It’s happening. It’s really happening. My never-ending nightmare has finally caught up with me.
I shake my head. “I don’t live in your world anymore,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster, but fear has its grip around my vocal cords. “You can’t justtakeme. That’s not how the real world works. There are people who will look for me. My friends. My boyfriend. It’ll only be a couple of days until my school realizes that I’m not showing up for classes. You really want all that heat on you?” As the words come tumbling from my trembling lips, I’m beginning to believe my own desperate spiel.
The little flicker of hope is dashed the second the Devil opens his mouth. “You don’t think I can take you?” He snarls. “I’ll show you how easily I can take you, Miss Murphy.”
When he leans forward this time, I can’t help but flinch. Despite my attempted bravado, it’s instinctive. “Please,” I find myself saying, “let me go.”
The Devil sits back, draping his arm over the back of his chair. Cocking his head to the side, he studies me for a few heavy seconds. “I’m a fair man. Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t take you, and if you convince me, I’ll let you go.”
My eyes narrow, looking for any trace of humor on his face. There’s nothing but hard lines and darkness. “Seriously?”
He nods.
I swallow the lump in my throat and scan the restaurant as if the right answer is hidden between the plush velvet cushions or twinkling tealights.
