All Chapters of The Devil You Know : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ELIJAH I bolted upright, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode. Sunlight was spilling through the blinds, hitting the floor like it had some cruel sense of timing. My eyes immediately scanned the room. How had I overslept? Again. The thought hit me like a punch. A soft knock came at the door, and a servant appeared, looking nervous. “Sir… Andrade is already downstairs,” he said quietly. I froze. “What?” I hissed, scrambling out of bed, my mind racing. “What do you mean he’s already downstairs?!” “He… he’s waiting for you, sir. He… you're meant to drive him this morning.” The servant’s hands were trembling. My face dropped, adrenaline surging. Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn’t even set an alarm. I hadn’t taken a proper bath yet. I had just thrown on some clean clothes, hoping that would be enough. Now it wasn’t. I quickly brushed, ran out, practically tripping over the rug as I raced toward the stairs. Fuck! Why didn’t I use the damn

ELIJAH I stood before the door Andrade had pointed to before leaving. My hand hovered over the handle, shaking slightly. I swallowed, trying to steady myself. Whatever was behind that door, I had no clue what to expect. Slowly, I pushed it open. A bedroom. In an office. My eyes widened. This wasn’t some small corner or a makeshift rest area. No, it was a full bedroom. King-sized bed, side tables, decorations, everything screamed wealth, taste, and danger. Why does Andrade have a bedroom in his office? I stepped inside cautiously, my curiosity battling with my nerves. The smell hit me first—a mix of leather, cologne, faint soap. Andrade’s scent. My chest tightened unexpectedly. I shook my head and tried to focus. A glass bathroom was connected to the room, spotless, too transparent. Sliding doors, clothes arranged perfectly by color and style. Expensive brands, designer labels, screaming wealth. I lingered near the closet, taking in the smell of his clothes. I cou

ELIJAH I finally found my way back to the mansion, but the streets had already gone quiet. The city was dead at this hour, the night swallowing everything, leaving only the sound of my own heart, breathing in my ears. I needed to see Mila. I deserve an explanation. My phone had died hours ago. I called her a thousand times before that. How could she leave me out there? I literally don't know anywhere here. Even with the directions! I’d gotten lost four times before finally spotting the gates. Each wrong turn twisted my stomach tighter, my mind replaying every stupid decision I’d made tonight. Following Mila had been a mistake, a big mistake. She had left me. I shouldn’t have followed. And now, somehow, I was back—but I was broken, and I was furious. I didn't even want to think about what she did or where she went. I painfully knew the answer. I used the stairs, my legs heavy and unsteady. My chest tightened with every step. I didn’t know whe

ELIJAH I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my chest still tight from the panic attack earlier. My hands fidgeted with the sheets, tracing the faint pattern on the duvet, but it didn’t calm me. I couldn’t stop replaying what had just happened. Andrade. God, Andrade. The way he had moved. The way he had looked at me. The way he touched me. I was completely exposed, weak, and helpless in front of him. I felt so small, so vulnerable, and yet… safe? How was that even possible? His eyes hadn’t judged me. Not once. Not even when I grabbed his hands like a lifeline. I shook my head and groaned. I’m a fucking weakling. A damn pathetic weakling. The memory of his scent hit me again, that sharp, clean, masculine smell, mixed with something darker, intoxicating. His lips, his black eyes, his commanding presence—it all burned into my mind. I shouldn’t have thought about it this way. I shouldn’t. This was wrong. Totally unacceptable. I was still tryin

ELIJAH I’d been walking around the office all morning, pretending not to notice how people’s eyes followed me when I passed. The whispers weren’t exactly subtle, apparently, being “Andrade’s driver” came with its own kind of curiosity. Some ladies in particular seemed a little too eager to know me, and for once, I didn’t push them away. I figured, why not? I am officially single now. Maybe getting to know someone, anyone, would keep my head clear. Keep me from thinking about him. That’s how I ended up at the front desk with Gemma. Blonde, seductive smile, the kind of woman who knew exactly how to hold your attention. She was friendly, talkative, flirty in a way that felt harmless, at least at first. “Hey pretty boy,” she bit her lower lip. “So you’re Elijah,” she said, twirling a pen between her fingers, “Andrade’s new favorite?” I almost choked on my own laugh. “Favorite? I’m just his driver.” She smirked. “Right. That’s what they all say. But Andrade doesn’t keep