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Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Devil You Know : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

158 Kabanata

021

ELIJAH I couldn’t process it at first. Andrade’s words still rang in my head, cold and absolute. “You’ll take her place.” I just stood there, watching the smoke curl lazily from his cigarette as if the conversation wasn’t about to upend my entire sense of balance. I shouldn't argue, no I shouldn't, but I felt so fucking guilty and bad for Gemma. “You’re serious,” I finally said, though I already knew the answer. Andrade didn’t look at me right away. He exhaled, slow and deliberate, eyes following the smoke before settling on me—calm, composed, and terrifyingly sure of himself. “Leave.” That's it? “You fired your secretary because of Mila, or because she flirted with me?” Those words left my mouth before I could take them back. And…I didn't want to. My chest tightened. My pulse picked up. Waiting…it's was killing me. That finally got a reaction. The muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t deny it. He just looked at me like he could see through every word, every thoug

022

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

023

ELIJAH The drive to the office was suffocating. Andrade sat behind me, his expression carved from stone, his eyes dark with the same quiet fury I’d seen that morning. The silence wasn’t peaceful, it was thick, sharp, the kind that presses down on your chest until you forget how to breathe. I kept my eyes on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him, his jaw clenched, one hand tapping restlessly against his thigh. I didn’t dare ask what was wrong. I already knew. It had to be Cristian—the man Marisol brought in like a prize, the man she said she wanted to marry. The De Valerio stepfather. Hilarious. I could only imagine what Andrade was feeling. Andrade hated him. He didn’t need to say it; I could feel it. His silence said enough. When we arrived, Andrade got out first, slamming the door harder than usual. I followed quietly, keeping a step behind as we walked through the lobby. His briefcase in my ha

024

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.

025

ELIJAH I was still organizing the pile of files that were dumped on my desk that morning — receipts, invoices, letters written in Italian — when he finally spoke. “Take the rest of the day off.” I froze, a folder halfway into the drawer. “What?” He didn’t even look up. “I have an important meeting. Leave.” The words were sharp, clipped, impersonal. Like I’d already been dismissed, and he was just waiting for me to get the hint. I tried not to let my face show anything. “You sure? There’s still a…” “Go.” Just that word. But in that tone, it was final. He might as well have slammed the door in my face. I swallowed whatever argument was forming on my tongue. “Right. Sure.” He was already back to typing, the faint click of keys filling the silence like the ticking of a clock. I stood there for a few seconds longer than I should have, hoping he’d say something else. He didn’t. “See you tomorrow,” I muttered. No reply. I grabbed my bag, shoved my phone in my poc

026

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

027

ELIJAH The door clicked shut behind me. At first, I thought I’d walked into the wrong room. Then my brain caught up with my eyes, and my stomach dropped. Mila was sitting on my bed. She looked too at ease, too familiar, like she owned the place. The soft yellow lamp threw a warm light across her face, highlighting the careful way she’d styled her hair, exactly how she used to wear it when she knew I’d had a bad day. She smiled, small but deliberate. Just how I liked it. I froze by the door. “What the hell are you doing here?” She didn’t answer right away. She leaned back against the headboard, one knee bent, eyes following me the way a cat studies a cornered mouse. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said finally, voice calm but too smooth. “You took forever. Where were you? I stopped by the office, but you weren’t there.” I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I stepped out,” I said, trying to keep my tone flat. “Doesn’t matter where. You shouldn’t be here.” She pout

028

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

029

ELIJAH The room was too quiet, that type of silence that hummed under the skin. My fingers hovered above the keyboard. He was the definition of stillness, but that kind of stillness that could snap at any second. His pen clicked once, twice, then stilled. The line on my screen blinked. Cristian Léon Marquez: requesting entry. I blinked too, half-hoping I was seeing wrong. He wasn't supposed to come up. Andrade had made it very clear. He is busy. His tone earlier had been final. I quickly switched the camera right outside the doors. But there Cristian was, bold as ever, standing right at the entrance. His face wore that same polished charm, the kind that always seemed to slide under people’s guards. Then my phone beeped. A text from Gemma. Marisol gave him access. “Andrade,” I said quietly. No response. I swallowed and nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at me. “Cristian’s at the door.” Andrade didn’t look up immediately. He kept writing for a few seconds mor

030

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

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