Chapter 2 Making a Deal with the Devil

Maya's POV

When I heard the door close, panic crept through me. Why had he brought me into his office, where we were completely alone and the door was shut? Anything could happen here, and no one would come to save me.

I stood there shyly, my arms folded across my chest. I watched him take a bottle of wine from the counter and pour himself a glass. He sat directly opposite me and stared as he drank. One thing I knew: I was going to try my best not to be intimidated by this man.

His gaze hit me head-on. I noticed his eyes, the sharp line of his perfectly chiseled jaw. I couldn't possibly be admiring the man who was about to set my life ablaze.

I looked away from his heated stare. He was clearly sizing me up like a piece of meat he intended to devour, and I wished I had something to cover myself with. My outfit was far too revealing.

His sudden movement pulled me out of my thoughts. Adrian had risen from his chair and was walking toward me, slowly. When he came within two inches of me, I had to step back. His presence was suffocating. He noticed, and a smirk spread across his face.

"Come with me."

He took my hand and led me to a section of the office lined with screens. Each one showed a different room in his club, and the sexual activities going on.

Oh my God. He watches all of this.

"Take a look at this," he said, pointing at one of the screens. "Nice and hardworking, isn't she? She's going to have to fuck all this men."

The stripper on the screen had her mouth stuffed with a cock while getting fucked from behind by another guy.

"Notice this one?" His tone was mocking. "That's Gabby, Gabby is a fine stripper, don't you think?"

On another screen, Gabby had been told to undress for the old man alone with her in the private room. She spread her legs wide shifted her panties to the side so the elderly man can have a perfect view of her cunt.

A wave of uneasiness settled in my stomach. I didn't know why Adrian was showing me this, but it was definitely not helping my situation.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked in disbelief.

He stepped closer, and I backed up until the edge of the table pressed into me. He kept coming until our chests were almost touching. I tried to fold my arms across my chest again, but he took my hands and gently pulled them down, holding them.

His gaze dropped to my lips. I turned my head to the side, trying to escape the heat of his gaze. He released my hands, took my chin between his fingers, and turned my face back toward him. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his.

His eyes were a steely blue, the color of the ocean before a storm.

Is he like this with all his strippers? His presence was intimidating, and I knew I shouldn't be alone with him dressed like this. My eyes slid to the door, wishing someone would walk in and rescue me from this man, with me practically half naked in front of him.

He picked up some strands of my hair, shook it lightly, almost playfully, and let it fall. Then he moved away and sat back down in his chair.

"Well, you've got three options."

His sudden voice made me flinch.

"One: you work at my club as a stripper." His voice was completely flat, so I couldn't tell what he was planning.

"Two: I sue you for the eight hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars you lost."

I swallowed hard.

"Three." He let the silence stretch. "You stay with me for one year, and I do whatever I want with you."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Adrian fell silent, the corner of his lips lifting into the faintest smile as he waited, patiently, for my answer.

"Can I ask what you'll do to me if I accept the one-year offer?"

He laughed softly, set his glass down on the table, and stood.

"Why don't I show you?"

He crossed the room in a few long strides. Before I could even react, his hands locked around my waist. He lifted me like I weighed nothing and set me firmly on top of his office desk.

Then he spread my legs wide open. One hand shoved the sheer lingerie aside so he could clearly see my pussy,Without any warning he pushed two thick fingers straight into me.

I gasped as he filled me, curling those fingers deep and slow, deliberately dragging them over my G-spot with every stroke. The pleasure was so sharp and electrifying I couldn't form the words to stop him even if I'd wanted to. I just sat there on his desk, spreading my legs wider so he had all the space he needed to keep fingering me.

He hit that spot again and a soft, broken moan slipped out of me. I felt him chuckle against my neck. Then he slowly pulled his fingers out. His gaze locked on mine.

"Did you like it?"

My cheeks burned. I was about to tell him exactly how much I'd enjoyed it.when I managed to close my legs, still feeling the wet heat throbbing between them. I looked around the room for a second, trying to catch my breath, and then I asked him.

"So, uhm... you uhm..." I let out a long breath. "So the one year involves you sleeping with me?" I asked, as bravely as I could.

"Yes. It's part of the package." His grin was devious.

"Can I get some time to think about this?"

"No. You make your decision here and now." He glanced at his wrist to check the time. "I have somewhere to be, love, so be quick with your choice."

He had shown me those strippers on purpose, so that my mind could no longer see the first option as an option at all. And I didn't know this man well enough to hand my life over to him for a whole year.

"What if I don't want it?"

"Want what?" he snapped.

"Want you to... fuck me." My voice was barely audible.

"I don't force myself on women. You'll be the one begging me."

The confidence in his tone amused me, and surprised me. He was so certain I would be the one begging. But if he wasn't going to force himself on me, what did I have to lose? It was only a year.

"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain and let me go, debt cleared, after the year?"

"I give millions of dollars to charity. Eight hundred and seventy-five thousand would hardly matter."

If the money means nothing to him, why can't he just let me go?. I was tempted to ask, but decided not to push my luck.

"So I'm going to have to take your word for it."

I thought he almost laughed. "That seems to be the case." He took his phone out of his pocket. "So what's it going to be, love?"

It looked like I was making a deal with the devil. Deep in my chest, I felt I was making a mistake. And really, what could be worse than being a stripper, or going to jail?

"I'll take option three," I said, boldly, knowing I was about to sign my life over to the devil.

"Forgive me. What does option three say again?"

He can't be serious. Does he really expect me to repeat it?

"That I stay with you for a year."

"And?" he taunted, clearly enjoying himself.

"You get to do whatever you want with me," I said, a little embarrassed.

"Great. Then we have a deal." He said