บททั้งหมดของ The Devil You Know : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

ELIJAH The next morning, I was heading downstairs to get Andrade’s coffee when I noticed some large suitcases being wheeled in through the main door. Big, expensive-looking ones. A driver and two servants were struggling to load them into the elevator. I slowed my steps, watching. Who the hell’s moving in? It wasn’t like Andrade to have guests, and Marisol never warned us about anyone coming. Well, me at least. The elevator dinged, swallowing the luggage. One of the servants gave me a polite smile before following behind. My gut twisted. I continued down the stairs, but the sound of voices made me stop halfway. Marisol’s laugh, Mila’s sharp voice cutting through occasionally, and a deeper male tone I didn’t recognize. I leaned against the rail, glancing into the living room. Marisol was seated on the couch, a glass of juice in her hand. Mila sat opposite her, clearly annoyed, and Andrade was in his usual corner—arms crossed, face unreadable, watching everything witho

ELIJAH I did what he said. Tried each shirt on, one after another, under that sharp, unreadable stare of his. Andrade didn’t say much, just a few curt “turn around” and “next” commands, and the occasional hum that could mean anything. I couldn’t tell if he was judging the fit, the fabric, or just me. Probably me. When I put on the last one, a plain white button-down, he gave a small nod but enough for me to know he’d decided. “That one,” he said. His tone left no room for argument. I quickly buttoned it up all the way and smoothed it over my chest, avoiding his eyes. My pulse was still pounding from standing there like some mannequin under his scrutiny. Unlike him, I don't have any tattoos. My abs aren't as toned as his. And I wasn't really buff because I hit the gym once in a while. When I was finally allowed to sit, it felt like a small mercy. The chair at my new desk was firm, not particularly comfortable, but after all that, it felt like the safest spot in the room.

ELIJAH The hallway lights were dim, that soft gold that made everything look richer than it really was. I was still smiling faintly when I stepped out of the car and into the building, the faint buzz from my night with Nora still humming in my chest. It felt good, normal, for the first time in weeks. She was easy to talk to, real, no games. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that kind of ease until I sat across from her, both of us laughing at the kind of things I couldn’t tell anyone else. When the elevator doors slid open, I stepped inside and pressed the button to my floor. The day had been long, but I felt lighter. Andrade hadn’t crossed my mind for almost two whole hours. That had to be some kind of record. The doors were almost shut when I caught a glimpse of someone striding down the hall, long confident steps echoing on the marble floor. My chest sank the second I recognized him. Andrade. Of course. The doors started to close, and for a split seco

ELIJAH I sat behind my desk, staring at the numbers on the screen, pretending to focus, but all I could see was Mila’s face from last night. Her voice, her eyes, the way she’d whispered she’d change, it wouldn’t leave my head. They way she moved, screamed my name. Over and over again. Of course, it was just sex. That’s what I told myself. That’s all it was supposed to be. But the way she touched me, the way she said my name, the way I almost believed her, that’s what scared me. Because I shouldn’t trust her. Not again. She said she wanted to be better. That she’d do anything for me. I wanted to believe her, but how many times had she said the same thing before? I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. My chest felt heavy. Maybe part of me still wanted her back, but the logical part, the one that’s supposed to protect me, kept whispering, ‘don’t fall for it again’. I sighed and turned back to the screen. There was no use thinking about Mila now. Not here

ELIJAH The elevator doors couldn’t open fast enough. My pulse was hammering against my throat as I stepped out, half-running down the hall toward Andrade’s office. I could already feel the heat crawling under my skin, anxiety, guilt, maybe both. I woke up late. Mila's fault. No, mine. She’d come to my room again last night. Like she always does when she wants something. She’d crawled into my bed, smiled that smile, whispered that tone that could make any man forget his own name. And I let her. I told myself it was just sex, nothing else. Just two people trying to forget. But she’d asked again, ‘Have you made up your mind yet?’ and I didn’t have an answer for her then. I still don’t now. The elevator felt like a coffin. Each floor ticked by too slow, and I could imagine Andrade’s face — blank, cold, disappointed. I should’ve been the one to drive him to work, make his coffee, be at his desk before he arrived. But I’d failed. Fuck. When I finally reached his off