I poke my head through the small hole I created in my doorway, my eyes darting nervously around the hallway. What am I looking for exactly? I'm not sure. After I fled from the handsome devil's room last night, I expected to be dragged back. But I wasn't, and I couldn't be more grateful he didn't force me to return and consummate our deal. The memory of his touch, both terrifying and thrilling, sends a shiver down my spine.

It's now four o'clock in the evening. Other than the maid who brought my food and the stoic guard posted at my door, I haven't seen another living soul. The isolation is starting to gnaw at me, leaving me feeling hollow and on edge. I'm a cocktail of emotions - bored, worried, anxious, and confused all at once. My mind keeps replaying last night's events on an endless loop, leaving me restless and desperate for any kind of distraction.

That's why I find myself peeking out of my door frame, hoping to catch a moment when my guard might take a break. I need to explore this mansion to understand where I am and maybe, just maybe, find a way out. But more than that, I need something – anything – to take my mind off what happened last night and how my body reacted to being touched by the devil. I've hated men's touch because of him. I've never had a boyfriend in my twenty-three years of life, but yesterday, I didn't recoil. I even defied the devil so he would touch me more. None of it makes sense, and the confusion is eating me alive.

I slowly step out of my room, forcing a smile at my guard. The hallway stretches out before me, a maze of luxury and danger. My heart races with a mix of fear and excitement at the prospect of exploration.

"Well, hello there," a voice suddenly booms in the hallway, making me jump. I turn to find a handsome man with a boxer's build that his expensive-looking suit does little to hide. A small smile plays on his face. I stare at him, wondering who he is and noticing that even though he's handsome, he doesn't compare to the devil from last night.

The guard bows his head at him, and the newcomer says something in Spanish which has the guard leaving. My curiosity about this man's identity grows.

"You must be the wrong sister," he says, moving closer to me. "I am Julio, Rafael's second in command." He outstretches his hand, and I stare at it for a second too long before taking it in mine.

"Francesca, or Franky for short," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You're more beautiful than he described," Julio says, letting go of my hand. I wonder who 'he' is, but don't ask, knowing my place in this dangerous world.

"Come, we don't want to keep him waiting," he says and turns around. My heart begins to race even faster. Who are we going to see? The handsome devil from last night? My palms grow clammy, and I wipe them discreetly on my dress.

With each step, memories of last night flash through my mind - his touch, my unexpected reactions. I'm torn between fear and a confusing anticipation. What if he wants to continue what we started? Do I want that? The conflict in my mind makes me dizzy.

I try to focus on my surroundings, hoping to find some clue about where I am or a potential escape route. But my mind keeps circling back to the man I'm about to face. Will he be angry that I ran away? What will he do to me? The uncertainty is almost worse than knowing.

As we walk through the opulent hallways, I'm struck by the contrast between the beauty of my surroundings and the ugliness of my situation. The plush carpets muffle our footsteps, and priceless artwork adorns the walls. It's a gilded cage, and I'm the trapped bird within it.

My heart pounds louder with each step, a mix of fear and something else - something I'm afraid to name. As we approach what I assume is our destination, I take a deep breath and steel myself for whatever - or whoever - is on the other side. Julio opens the door, and there he is - the devil himself, behind his desk.

He's dressed in a suit again, a lit cigarette perched between his lips and a glass of amber liquid beside him. My blood instantly chills as a thought runs through my head. Please, God, let me be wrong. Let him not have asked me here to share me with Julio.

"Capo," Julio greets before walking over to take his seat on the couch in the office. I remain frozen by the door, my hands turning clammy with each passing second. The realization that the handsome devil is indeed Rafael hits me like a punch to the gut. I'd guessed it, of course, but I'd prayed I was wrong. I'm starting to wonder if I should have just stayed in my room and dealt with the thoughts I ran away from.

"Come here," Rafael says, his voice filling the room. My breath hitches. I don't move from my spot by the door, but one lift of his brows makes me realize that's a bad idea. I swallow hard and slowly move my feet, each step feeling like I'm lifting a hundred pounds. I walk across the room and stand before his desk, trying my best to control my breathing. Something in me doesn't want him to see my fear, knowing devils like him probably get off on it.

He stares at me intently, and every nerve in my body screams for me to avert my eyes, but I don't. I watch as his gaze travels over my body, taking in the pink sundress I found in the room where I'm being held.

"How much do you think you matter to Thomas?" he suddenly asks, and my breathing hitches because I don't know the answer to that question. I mean a lot to my sister, but that doesn't mean I mean the same to Thomas.

"That's what I thought. You don't mean shit to him," he says and retrieves something from his drawer. If possible, my breathing stops altogether. "I could shoot you right now. I doubt it would make that black heart of his even clench by mistake," he says, pointing the gun at me.

"I mean a lot to my sister, and she is Thomas' world," I say, trying to use it as a reason for him not to blow my brains out right now.

"That's true, and your death would make her sad, then make him miserable for being the cause of your death. Which just gives me more reason to fucking kill you."

"I don't understand. Killing me was never an option," I blurt out, confusion overwhelming me.

"That's before I knew you would be a fucking difficult pet to train," he says, his words making my brows furrow. "Your defiance yesterday, as cute as it is, I don't tolerate such."

I should have known it would come back to bite me in the ass. "I'm sorry. It will never happen again," I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know they're not entirely true. I might have willingly offered myself to be used to his liking, but I'm still human. Some parts of me will still resist.

"Prove it to me. Take off your clothes and fuck yourself till you cum," he says, and my eyes bulge wide. Did he just fucking say that?

"Capo," Julio on the couch calls out, chuckling, and I remember we aren't alone in the room. I turn to him, my eyes pleading for help even though he doesn't know who I am.

"Stay out of it," Rafael growls and Julio raises his hands in surrender, standing from the couch.

"I think I'll wait outside while you guys get to know one another more," he says, moving toward the door. I feel the sudden urge to call him back, to beg him to stay and maybe talk sense into his boss.

"I don't have forever, Francesca," Rafael says, pulling my eyes back to his, and I know he means it.

I open my mouth to plead with him, but one brow lift has my mouth shutting sealed. The defiance he spoke about surfaces, and I bite it back. I can't give him a reason to want to hurt me and make my sister feel responsible for my death, which I know she would.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of cigarettes and his expensive cologne, as I slowly move my trembling hand to the strap of my dress.

"You can do this. You can fucking do this!" I silently chant to myself, trying to muster the courage to continue. My hands tremble as I reach for the hem of my dress. The fabric feels like lead as I slowly pull it up, exposing my legs inch by inch, followed by the soft click of my bra unhooking and the rustle of my underwear sliding down my legs.

Standing naked before him, a rush of heat creeps into my skin. Despite the familiarity between us, vulnerability washes over me like a tidal wave. My skin tingles as his eyes roam my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I follow his gaze, watching as it lingers on my nipples, which betray my arousal by standing at attention under his scrutiny. Goosebumps erupt across my flesh, and despite the warmth of the room, a shiver runs down my spine.

"Get on with it," he snarls, his deep voice laced with impatience and barely contained desire.

Releasing another shaky breath, I move my fingers toward my core. The wrongness of the situation weighs heavily on me, but I press on. As I insert a finger, I find myself disappointingly dry. My muscles are taut with tension, and despite the weakening effect of his gaze, I'm too anxious to be truly aroused.

"I'm not prepared," I admit, withdrawing my hand and showing him my dry finger, hoping for a reprieve from this uncomfortable moment.

His response is immediate and unyielding. "Then make yourself wet."

"I don't know how to," I confess, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. How does one simply will themselves into arousal? I feel like an inexperienced teenager all over again.

His reaction catches me off guard. He bursts into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he regards me with amusement. I stand there, silent and confused, waiting for his mirth to subside. But as his laughter fades, I find myself wishing I had said something—anything—to break the tension.

In an instant, his demeanor changes. Fury blazes in his eyes as he throws his cigarette to the ground and closes the distance between us, his face mere inches from mine. "That fucking defiance again," he growls, his fingers tangling in my hair and gripping tightly. I bite my lip to stifle a wince, tasting the metallic hint of blood.

"I'm gonna fuck it out of you," he declares, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends shivers down my spine. Using his grip on my hair, he drags me across the table. The papers scatter beneath me, their crisp edges eliciting small gasps of discomfort as they scrape against my heated skin.

I land unceremoniously in his lap, my core making sudden contact with his obvious arousal. My body betrays me, clenching in response to the hardness pressing against me.

The tension in the room crackles between us like lightning before a storm. His eyes, dark and intense, hold mine captive, a swirling maelstrom of fury and desire that both terrifies and enthralls me. The warmth of his body seeps into mine, our proximity igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both.

"Should I punish you before I fuck you or after I fuck you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down my spine.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. Fear flutters in my stomach like a caged bird, but it's quickly overshadowed by a surge of desire that catches me off guard. The strength of my attraction to this dangerous man confuses and excites me in equal measure.

His face is so close, his lips mere inches from mine. The urge to kiss him hits me with unexpected force, thrilling and terrifying all at once. A small part of me whispers that I should be more afraid, but I can't deny the magnetic pull I feel toward him, stronger than any fear.

My mind races, torn between conflicting emotions. I think of Melina, of the reason I'm really here. Am I betraying her by feeling this way? But then, isn't this exactly what I offered to do to keep her safe? Guilt wars with an unexpected hunger for his touch, leaving me dizzy and breathless.

"Tell me, blondie," he murmurs, his hand cupping my breast. A small moan escapes my lips before I can stop it, his touch electric and intoxicating. Waves of pleasure course through my body, surprising me with their intensity.

He smirks, a beautiful, devilish expression that lights up his face. That smirk should intimidate me, but instead, it sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. My breath catches in my throat as I realize just how much I want him.

I try to remind myself of the danger, of who he is and what he's capable of. But my body seems to have a mind of its own, responding to his proximity, his scent, the heat of his skin against mine. It's like nothing I've ever experienced before, both frightening and exhilarating.

My breath comes in short gasps as I struggle to reconcile my conflicting emotions. Fear, desire, confusion—they all swirl together, but desire is quickly taking the lead.

As his hand on my breast tightens slightly, I bite my lip to hold back another moan. I'm balanced on a knife's edge, the last vestiges of fear melting away under the heat of my growing arousal. I want this, I realize. I want him, even if I don't fully understand why.

"I... I don't know," I finally manage to whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "What... what are you going to do?"