The Devil’s Contract

Celeste didn’t remember sitting down.

One moment she was standing across from Dante Navarro, the photograph of her brother’s wrecked car burning into her retinas, and the next she was in one of the leather chairs facing his desk, her knees weak, her pulse roaring in her ears.

“Yes,” she had said.

The word echoed in the room long after it left her mouth.

Dante studied her in silence. No triumph. No smile. Just that unnerving calm, like a man who had already planned ten moves ahead and was now adjusting for inevitability.

“You’re sure,” he said at last.

It wasn’t a question.

Celeste swallowed. Her throat felt raw. “You said three years.”

“Yes.”

“And when it’s over… I walk.”

He nodded once. “With your name intact. Your record clean. Your reputation restored.”

“And Ethan?”

Something cold passed behind Dante’s eyes. “Ethan will never touch you again.”

Her fingers curled into her palm. “I don’t want him hurt because of me.”

Dante leaned back, steepling his fingers. “That’s generous. And naïve.”

She met his gaze. “It’s my condition.”

A pause.

Then, unexpectedly, he smiled not cruelly, not possessively. Respectfully.

“Noted.”

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a slim black folder, setting it on the desk between them. It wasn’t thick. That alone unsettled her.

“This isn’t a traditional contract,” he said. “No signatures filed in any system that can be subpoenaed. No language that can be interpreted against us.”

“Us,” she repeated quietly.

“You’re not a hostage, Celeste. You’re a partner.”

Her brow arched. “With boundaries?”

“Of course.”

He opened the folder, turning it so she could read.

TERMS

You live under my protection.

“Which means?” she asked.

“My residences. My security. You do not disappear without my knowledge.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not a prisoner.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re an asset.”

She flinched.

Dante noticed. “A protected one.”

You work exclusively for me.

“Legal consulting,” he clarified. “Structuring. Compliance. Damage control.”

“You expect me to legitimize your empire.”

“I expect you to understand it.”

Your safety overrides everything.

“Including your pride,” he added.

She snorted softly. “That will be difficult.”

“I’m counting on it.”

No lies between us.

This one made her pause.

“You don’t strike me as the honest type,” she said.

His voice dropped. “Lies are how I survived prison. Truth is how I plan to win now.”

The personal arrangement.

Her stomach twisted.

Dante’s gaze didn’t waver. “You will be seen with me. Publicly. Privately. As my woman.”

Heat crept up her neck. “And if I refuse that part?”

“Then the deal doesn’t exist.”

Silence stretched.

She stared at the words, her brother’s face flashing through her mind his laugh, his voice on late-night calls, the way he’d always told her to stop trusting systems built by men like Ethan.

“This isn’t love,” she said quietly.

“No,” Dante agreed. “It’s leverage. For both of us.”

She exhaled slowly. “And intimacy?”

“That,” he said calmly, “will never be forced.”

Her eyes snapped up.

“But,” he continued, “it won’t be optional forever.”

Her heart stuttered.

He closed the folder. “You don’t have to decide that part today.”

Celeste stood abruptly, pacing to the window. The city sprawled below them indifferent, vast, alive. Somewhere down there, Ethan was still breathing freely. Somewhere, her brother’s killers still walked in suits.

“I want proof,” she said. “About Nate. Everything you have.”

“You’ll have it.”

“And Mara,” she added suddenly. “If she’s involved—”

“She is,” Dante said flatly.

Celeste froze.

He joined her at the window. “She’s been feeding Ethan information for months. Schedules. Locations. Conversations.”

Betrayal burned hotter than anger.

“She was my friend.”

“She was afraid,” Dante replied. “Fear makes traitors out of decent people.”

Celeste turned to him. “And what does it make you?”

His gaze softened just barely. “Honest about what I am.”

A knock sounded at the door.

Marcus Leone entered, nodding respectfully. “Everything’s ready.”

Dante looked back at Celeste. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“My world.”

The penthouse Dante assigned her was nothing like she expected.

No gilded excess. No dark decadence. It was sleek, minimal, quiet all glass and steel and carefully controlled space. Security cameras were discreet. Guards invisible but present.

“This is temporary,” Dante said as they stepped inside. “Until you’re ready to move to the main residence.”

“I’m not moving into your bed,” she said instantly.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Not yet.”

She glared. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He gestured toward a door. “Your office.”

She paused. “Office?”

Inside was a fully equipped workspace files already waiting, screens glowing softly, a locked cabinet with her name engraved on the plate.

“You prepared this… before I said yes.”

“I prepared it in case you were smart.”

Her chest tightened. “You never doubted I’d come back.”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re not a woman who lets murder go unanswered.”

The weight of his words settled over her.

That night, alone in the penthouse, Celeste sat on the edge of the bed, the city humming below. Her phone buzzed a single message from an unknown number.

Ethan: You made a mistake choosing him.

Her blood ran cold.

Almost immediately, another message appeared.

Dante: Did he contact you?

She stared at the screen.

So he really was watching.

Celeste: Yes.

Seconds later, her door chimed.

Dante stood there, jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, eyes dark with something dangerous.

“He doesn’t get to reach you anymore,” he said quietly.

She hugged her arms around herself. “Then why does it feel like I just stepped into something worse?”

He stepped closer not touching, but close enough that she felt his presence like heat.

“Because,” he said, “power always has a price.”

Their eyes locked.

And for the first time since everything fell apart, Celeste realized the truth:

She hadn’t escaped the fire.

She had walked straight into it.

Did Celeste just trade one enemy for another… or is Dante the only man standing between her and death?