Chapter 2: A Desperate Bargain
Chapter 2: A Desperate Bargain
The cold air cut through Evangeline as she stood outside Devereaux Tower, the glass and steel fortress that loomed over the city. It had been years since she last stepped foot near it—years since she had belonged to the world inside. But tonight, there was no avoiding it.
Her father’s life depended on Luca.
She inhaled sharply, adjusting the black trench coat wrapped around her frame. This is temporary. A deal. Nothing more. She had faced Luca before—loved him, fought him, survived him. But this time, she would not be a fool.
No emotions. No weaknesses. Just a transaction.
A gust of wind sent a chill down her spine as she stepped through the building’s grand entrance. The marble floors gleamed under the chandelier lights, the air thick with power and wealth.
A receptionist glanced up, barely hiding her surprise.
“Can I help y—”
“I need to see Luca Devereaux,” Evangeline interrupted, her voice calm but firm.
The woman hesitated. “Do you have an appointment?”
Evangeline’s lips curved in a humorless smile. An appointment? If only it were that simple.
“Tell him it’s about Vincent Torres.”
Recognition flickered in the receptionist’s eyes, but she quickly masked it. With a short nod, she picked up the phone, murmuring something before glancing back at Evangeline.
“Take the private elevator.”
No questions. No hesitation. That meant one thing—Luca already knew she was here.
As she stepped inside the elevator, her pulse thrummed. The numbers climbed too fast, and yet, too slow.
A sharp ding announced her arrival.
The moment the doors slid open, she felt it—the presence of the man she had tried to escape.
Luca stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of whiskey in his hand. City lights sprawled behind him, but he didn’t turn to greet her.
“You have some nerve,” he murmured, voice dangerously low.
Her throat tightened, but she kept her expression blank. “I don’t have time for pleasantries.”
Finally, he turned.
And just like that, the air grew thick.
God help her.
Three years apart had done nothing to dull Luca Devereaux’s presence. If anything, he was sharper, stronger, more dangerous than before. The shadows of his past arrogance still clung to him, but there was something else now—something darker.
His suit was impeccable, as always. Midnight black, tailored to perfection. He set his glass down, stepping forward at an unhurried pace.
Evangeline refused to move.
If she showed even a flicker of fear, he would use it.
His gaze swept over her, assessing. Calculating. A slow smirk curved his lips, but his eyes remained cold.
“Three years.” He took another step closer. “That’s how long you thought you could stay dead?”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t have time for your games, Luca. My father has been taken.”
Silence.
Then, amusement flickered across his face.
“And you came to me?”
He said it like she had just handed him everything.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I need your resources.”
A deep, low chuckle.
“Let me get this straight,” he mused, leaning against his desk. “You fake your death, disappear for three years, and now you expect me to help you?”
She didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
The tension between them thickened.
For a long moment, Luca just looked at her. Studying her. Testing her.
Then, he reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a sleek black cigarette case. He flipped it open, took out one, and lit it with slow precision.
“You should be on your knees right now,” he murmured, exhaling a swirl of smoke.
Evangeline’s heart slammed into her ribs.
“Excuse me?” she bit out.
Luca leaned in, his breath ghosting over her skin. “For three years, I let you stay dead. For three years, I let you live in whatever fantasy you built for yourself. And now, you’re mine again.”
Her pulse pounded, but she held her ground. “This is not about us.”
His smirk was lazy, predatory.
“Oh, it is.”
He moved before she could react—gripping her chin, tilting her face up to his.
Her breath caught.
“Say it,” he murmured. “Say you need me.”
Her nails dug into her palms.
She hated him.
Hated that his touch still ignited something dangerous inside her.
But she had no choice.
“I need you,” she whispered, the words a bitter pill.
Something flickered in his gaze—triumph.
Luca exhaled, brushing his thumb along her jaw before releasing her.
“Good girl.”
She took a shaky step back.
“So you’ll help me?” she pressed.
Luca took another slow drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a crystal ashtray.
“I will,” he said, voice casual. “On one condition.”
Of course. There was always a price.
“What do you want?”
Luca straightened, buttoning his suit jacket with unhurried grace.
“You, Evangeline.” His voice was smooth, lethal. “You will be my wife again.”
The words slammed into her like a gunshot.
She couldn’t have heard that right.
“You—” She swallowed. “You want me to marry you?”
His smile was slow, cold. “I want you back where you belong.”
Her stomach twisted. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
“It never was.”
She should say no. She should turn around and walk away.
But she couldn’t.
Her father’s life was on the line.
And Luca knew it.
He had her cornered.
“Tick-tock, sweetheart,” he murmured. “What’s it going to be?”
Evangeline’s hands trembled.
You’re walking into a trap.
But there was no choice.
She lifted her chin, ignoring the storm brewing inside her.
“Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”
Luca’s smirk widened.
“Then let’s make it official.”
He pulled a sleek black folder from his desk and set it down in front of her.
A marriage contract.
Oh, God.
This was really happening.
Her fingers hovered over the pen.
Once she signed, there would be no turning back.
But this wasn’t love.
It was war.
And this time, she would win.