All Chapters of The Devil You Know : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

ANDRADE I can’t focus. The spreadsheets on my desk blur together, numbers bleeding into each other until they stop meaning anything. My pen has been tapping the same rhythm against the edge of the desk for the last fifteen minutes. I should be working. I should be doing something. But all I can think about is him. Elijah Where the hell is he? He didn’t come home last night. He didn’t answer his phone. Camila told me. I even checked with her this morning, pretending not to sound too concerned, but she didn’t know either. She has no idea. My jaw tightens. I set the pen down and rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension that’s been clawing at me since dawn. I keep replaying it, every second of last night, every look, every breath. That moment when I saw him in that bar, like some cruel twist of fate was mocking me. He looked so lost standing there, hood up, eyes darting around like a child who had wandered somewhere he shouldn’t. And I… I lost control.

ELIJAH The first thing that hit me was the silence. That kind of silence that feels alive, like it’s watching you. The door had just clicked shut behind me, and for a heartbeat, I thought I was alone. The room was dim, washed in amber light from a single overhead fixture that swung slightly, as if stirred by a breath I couldn’t hear. It smelled faintly of smoke and something else, a scent I knew too well. Clean, crisp cologne with a darker undertone. My stomach twisted. Then I saw him. Andrade. He was sitting there, legs crossed, a glass of vodka in one hand. His tie was loosened, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. The sight punched the air from my lungs. My knees almost gave out. He was waiting for me. My hands trembled at my sides. “I… this is a mistake.” Are we back to this? Yes. I had enough time to think about it. And this was my decision, and I've only come to say goodbye. Andrade’s mouth curved, just barely. A smirk, small, deliberat

ELIJAH The doors to the private suite clicked shut behind us, and Andrade's mouth was on mine before I could even take in the room. His lips crushed against me, hot and demanding, tongue pushing in to claim every inch. We stumbled toward the bedroom, hands everywhere—his fingers digging into my shirt, yanking it up over my head, my nails scraping down his back as I clawed at his jacket. The air smelled like clean sheets and faint cologne, but all I could focus on was the heat of his body pressing me against the wall. “Fuck,” I growled between kisses. He bit my lower lip hard enough to sting. I gasped, my cock already twitching in my pants from the drive over, where he'd teased me with glances and a hand on my thigh. He was holding back so badly. “Andrade....” My voice came out breathy, hands fumbling with his belt as we stripped each other. His jacket hit the floor, then my shirt, his mouth trailing wet kisses down my neck. Skin on skin—his chest hard and warm against

ELIJAH I walked into the house with a strange weight pressing on my chest. Mila's text had been frantic. “Come back. It’s urgent.” She’d called at least a dozen times too. I decided to stay away until it got dark. I remained in the suite of course, and I was given everything I asked for. Even what I didn't asked for. But I was really just waiting in case Andrade decide comes back, he never did. My phone was still buzzing when I stepped through the door, and all I could think was that something terrible must’ve happened. But what I saw wasn’t exactly what I expected. Mila sat on the couch, shoulders shaking, with Marisol, sitting beside her, an arm draped over her like some sympathetic guardian. Except Marisol’s eyes were sharp, cold, calculating the moment she looked up and saw me. The air in the room was heavy, tense. Something was off. “Eli!” Mila jumped up the second she saw me and ran into my arms. She clung to me like she hadn’t seen me in years. “You’re

ELIJAH I woke up to the smell of rich coffee. My eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the blackout curtains. The sheets were warm, still tangled around me, but the space beside me was cold. Andrade wasn’t there. I sat up quickly, my heart already racing, like I knew something was off. My eyes scanned the massive bedroom, then stopped on the figure standing near the minibar. Andrade, dressed sharply in one of his tailored suits, sipping from a sleek black mug like he hadn’t just torn me apart and put me back together last night. He was already shutting down, I could see it. That distant look in his eyes. Cold. Calculating. When he noticed me watching him, he didn’t smile. He didn’t come over and kiss me or make some sarcastic remark. He walked over slowly, setting the coffee on the edge of the desk and crossing his arms. “You can marry Camila if you want,” he said flatly. “But if you do, you and I... this…” he motioned vague