Caught in the Devil's Snare

by Dani Matthews

  My mouth falls open with indignation, and my fingers fly across the small keyboard. You can’t just decide to own a person.

  Good night, Charli.

  I send, Asshole! with an emoji of a middle finger. When I’d set the phone’s alarm, I’d been bored and had skimmed through all the emojis that came with it.

  When the phone doesn’t vibrate in my hand with his reply, I restrain the urge to throw it at the wall. As much as I don’t want anything from him, I can’t deny that the text messaging is useful.

  I expel a frustrated breath and drop back onto the pillow, glaring up into the darkness of the room.

  Six

  Devlin

  I’m thoroughly amused by Charli’s texts. When I’d added my number to her contacts, I hadn’t expected her to use it unless of an emergency. I should have known better, and strangely enough, I’m not aggravated by her reaching out to me. Instead, she’d nearly brought a smile to my face when she’d sent the middle finger emoji. She’s young but so damn full of spirit.

  The amusement fades as I think upon our confrontation earlier this morning. I’d known she was quite attractive beneath the dirt and grime she’d collected from the streets, but seeing her up close and fresh-faced had nearly taken my breath away. Her hair, once dull, had been a beautiful golden blonde and looked silky to the touch. The freckles scattering across the high slopes of her cheekbones had become more prominent, and her eyes… Those turbulent viridian eyes had burned with an inner fire that had stirred something deep within me. As much as I resent her for evoking these new emotions, I can’t deny that I am very much intrigued by her.

  “What are you doing?”

  I look up and see Veronica standing in the doorway. When Charli’s text had come through, I’d been lying in bed with Veronica, who’d fallen asleep almost immediately after sex. I hadn’t wanted to wake her, so I’d taken the phone and entered the main room of the suite.

  My eyes roam over her, and for the first time, I look at her with a critical eye. Her long, luxurious dark hair is almost too thick from all the extensions she prefers. Unnaturally long eyelashes frame her blue eyes, and her collagen-inflated lips look too big for her face. My eyes drop to the silky robe she’d slipped on over her nude body, and I study the outline of her breasts—breasts that I have no doubt were bought and paid for with someone else’s money.

  Veronica mistakes my perusal for interest, and she slinks over to me, dropping the silk robe to the floor so that she can show off the body that she believes is perfection. Little does she know, I’m beginning to see all her flaws. The fake breasts, the nice body that she’s never put effort into keeping up, everything about her is about as genuine as her personality. The cloyingly strong perfume she wears tickles my nose as she runs her hands over my bare chest, her eyes turning heavy-lidded. “Come back to bed,” she murmurs, pressing herself against my naked body.

  “This isn’t working, Veronica,” I tell her, stepping away from her touch.

  She blinks up at me, bewilderment forming in her blue eyes. “What do you mean?”

  My eyes scan the suite that I’m paying for. I don’t like having to search someone out to ease my body’s needs, nor do I enjoy having random women in my personal space at the penthouse. When I’d offered the suite to Veronica in return for her being available whenever I wanted, she’d readily agreed. The woman has no qualms spending my money, and for the first time, the knowledge disgusts me.

  “Devlin?” she asks, moving closer to me.

  I shake my head, giving her a curt look. “No more. I will find you a new place and pay the first year’s lease. After that, it will be up to you to make the payments.”

  Her mouth falls open with astonishment. “You’re ending things?”

  I don’t like repeating myself, and I regard her with cool eyes.

  “But we just… You and I…”

  “It was nice, but now it’s done.” With that said, I turn and stride back to the suite’s bedroom. As I pick up my discarded clothing and dress, Veronica stands in the doorway, watching me with a hurt expression. I tuck the phone inside my suit jacket and move towards the doorway.

  She backs out of the way as her eyes take on an interrogative gleam. “Who was on the phone?”

  I pause and turn back to her, my expression unsympathetic. She knew what she was getting into when we’d made this deal. “You’re not being paid to ask questions, Veronica.”

  She flinches, and I watch as she visibly swallows.

  We’re finished here, and I turn and stride back into the main room, heading for the suite door. After I step into the hall, closing the door firmly behind me, I adjust my clothing and walk to the elevator. There goes my ideal sex life, but when I’d looked at her moments ago, I’d known I wouldn’t be seeing her again.

  The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside and press the button for one floor below the penthouse. I’m using the public elevator, so it won’t go up to my private residence. I’ll need to use a keycard to reach the exclusive stairwell leading to my living quarters. It’s a nuisance, but it’s been preferable than leaving the building to meet somewhere else.

  Two minutes later, I enter the penthouse. The motion sensor lights flicker on, and I make my way to my private bath and begin undressing. After a quick shower, I slip on a pair of silk lounge pants and pour myself a glass of scotch from the bar located in the main room of the penthouse.

  I’m standing in front of the glass windows that overlook Manhattan when Carter appears in their reflection. Carter has full access to the penthouse. He doubles as my personal enforcer/head of security, and my right-hand man. I don’t consider him a friend, but he’s about as close to one as anyone will ever get.

  He waits until I turn to face him before informing me that a new gang leader is five grand short of what should have been my profit.

  “Take care of it,” I say, taking a drink of the scotch. What the fuck is so complicated about selling the product they’re given and returning the organization’s rightful share? I’m tired of these newcomers taking over and power-tripping with giant egos. Then, they stupidly decide to test their luck and try to fuck me over. If no one has gotten away with it in the past, what makes them think they’re any different?

  Carter nods. “Elias is on line one in your study.”

  I nod, dismissing him. After he leaves, I head for my study and settle in behind the desk. I pick up the phone and press the flashing line. “Kade,” I say curtly. Night’s like this test my patience. It’s late, and I’m ready to stop problem solving so I can relax before getting some damned sleep.

  “Evening, Devlin,” Elias greets in his usual jovial tone that grates on my nerves.

  “I’m assuming there’s a reason for this late-night call?”

  “Have you thought any further about the Serrato Cartel’s offer?” he inquires.

  Aggravation builds as my patience hangs by a mere thread. “I already gave them my answer, you included.” I won’t deny that the cartel is powerful. They’re asking to partner with my organization to takeover more territory. With their manpower and my own combined, we could easily run out all the competition and broaden the territory. However, they’re asking for a fifty-fifty partnership, and that is absurd. Why share fifty percent of the profits when I already have one-hundred percent? The Serrato organization thinks they can pressure me into this deal because I’m considered new, even though I’ve been the head of the organization for six years.

  “You know they won’t take no for an answer,” Elias warns.

  I’m aware, but I doubt they’ll wage a war over this. I’ve molded the organization into what it is today, and it’s a force to be reckoned with. “I didn’t care last week, and I don’t care now. Turn it down, Elias.”

  His sigh comes across the phone line. “I think we’re going to be borrowing trouble.”

  “Many have tried to run me out and have failed. The Serrato’s are offering the deal because they’re not confident they can
take me and the organization out. They can’t do jack shit at this point.” I’m the one with the upper hand, and I refuse to lower it a centimeter.

  “I still think—”

  “Don’t think, Elias. We’re done.” I end the call and sit back in the chair, picking up the scotch.

  Seven

  Charli

  The next morning, the vibration from the phone wakes me. With a wide yawn, I roll onto my side and stretch. As annoying as it is to have my life suddenly taken over by a bossy criminal, I can’t deny that the bed is amazingly comfortable.

  My nose twitches when the scent of eggs and bacon permeates the air, and my eyes fly open.

  Keagan.

  The sheets fall to my hips as I sit up and verify that the bedroom door is still closed. The mouthwatering scent must be seeping in from the kitchen.

  Today, boundaries need to be set. But first, I am in desperate need of a shower. Since the bathroom is located down the hall, I slip on the only pair of clothes I have and walk barefoot out of the room. The delicious scent of cooking eggs and bacon is much stronger, and I feel my stomach rumble as I walk down the hall and enter the bathroom.

  The mirror is foggy, and the room is warm and steamy from a recent shower. Keagan must be a morning person or else today he’s trying to make a good impression. Too bad I don’t have the ability to fire him.

  I’m in the middle of showering when it dawns on me that I don’t own a bar of soap or shampoo. There are personal hygiene products that are going to be essential from now on, so shopping is second on my to-do list. Thankfully, Keagan had left a bar of soap on the ledge along with a bottle of men’s shampoo. I hope he won’t mind if I use them. I also owe him an apology for my mood yesterday.

  By the time I step out of the shower and slip on the pale blue shirt that has dulled from wear and tear, and the white pants that are beginning to stain in a few places, I smell woodsy—like a man. I shrug. I suppose it’s better than smelling like bad body odor.

  After finger-combing my hair in front of the mirror, I leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen. I find Keagan standing in front of the stove frying eggs and bacon in two different pans. His blond hair is damp from his recent shower, and his tee is sticking to his body in places that he’d forgotten to dry. The jeans he’s wearing look well-worn, but I know the difference between ‘faded from too many washings’ and ‘fashionably well-worn.’ After I’m finished with my perusal, I focus on the fact that he’s cooking. Had the kitchen come equipped with cooking utensils? I hadn’t bothered to look yesterday.

  Keagan looks up, and as he breaks into a welcoming smile, dimples appear. I’m still feeling uncertain around him, so I give him a stiff smile and then walk to the cupboards, opening them one by one. There are four each of white plates, salad plates, bowls, and glasses. In one of the drawers, I find silverware, and in the lower cupboards, I locate just the necessary cooking pans. When I’m finished snooping, I turn and find Keagan standing there, a plate held out to me. There’s a large helping of eggs, and two slices of bacon.

  I’m starved. Thank you, I sign before accepting the plate. He hands me a fork, and we both sit on the floor, our backs to the cupboards as we eat. The eggs and bacon taste wonderful, and I appreciate that Keagan doesn’t try to carry on a conversation with me. When we’re finished, I follow Keagan to the dishwasher where we stash our plates. We stand there for a long moment, and I sigh inwardly. We really do need to talk.

  Before I can apologize for my poor attitude yesterday, he breaks the awkward moment by signing, What are your plans for the day?

  My head cocks to the side as I study him. After having been in and out of many homes during my childhood and teen years, I’ve become a good judge of character. I’m not sensing any bad vibes from Keagan, and I believe he might be one of those ‘what you see is what you get types.’ But that doesn’t mean I can’t be wrong, so I need to tread carefully around him until I can be certain. Besides, aren’t we all out for ourselves? He took this job for a reason, and he must know that something is amiss, but he’s ignoring it. How about you start with explaining what your job responsibilities are? I sign to him.

  He regards me with keen interest. Are you going to shoot the messenger?

  Maybe, I can’t resist signing with a teasing smile.

  My response causes him to smile crookedly. At least your honest. He turns serious. I’m to accompany you wherever you go and help in any way that I can. You make the decisions, I adapt to them. The only time I step in is if I think you’re putting yourself in harm’s way.

  The corner of my lip curls as I shoot him a look. You do realize I’m not an invalid, right?

  He looks as if I’ve just insulted him. I know, and I never said you were.

  Devlin Kade thinks so.

  The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles and signs, So prove him wrong.

  I fold my arms over my chest and lean my hip against the nearest counter, thinking. Whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to dig into the cash so I can buy a few things. I can’t live in this outfit forever, and I’m kind of grossed out that I’ve been wearing the same panties for the past few days. The only way I’m willing to touch Devlin Kade’s money is if I pay it back.

  I really need a job.

  I look up when Keagan draws my attention, and he begins to sign, I’m not allowed to buy anything for the apartment since you have the finances to do so yourself, but I can buy myself a bed. The floor is very hard, so can we please shop for one?

  I stare at him with bewilderment. I don’t understand.

  Most people sleep on something soft so that their backs don’t become sore, this often includes a pillow. Floors aren’t—he stops signing and grins when I flip him off. Seriously, he signs, Mr. Kade wants you to spend the money he gave you. I can buy things for myself, but when it pertains to the apartment, he wants you to do it. It’s important that you make this your home.

  So that’s why the apartment isn’t furnished. It just shows what a manipulative bastard Devlin Kade is. If I want to live comfortably, it’ll push me to accept his money. That in turn will leave me indebted to him. I don’t care what he claims, I still think there’s an expectation of something in return.

  You really don’t want to be here, do you? Keagan signs.

  I don’t, I sign back.

  His brows furrow as his blue eyes search mine. What exactly is going on?

  Ah, so now he’s beginning to care. And this is where I need to tread carefully. He’s trying to help, but I want to make it on my own. I don’t like being indebted to anyone.

  Keagan takes a moment to think over his reply before he signs, What can we do to make you feel better about the situation?

  I’m taken aback by his question. He holds my gaze, his blue eyes genuinely interested in my response. For the first time since his arrival, I begin to relax. Keagan’s a man, and men don’t think like women. If there’s a problem, they fix it. It’s that simple. He’s not going to mull over the how and why of everything.

  I want a job, I sign to him, and I wait for his reaction.

  He thinks upon my reply and then begins to sign, If that’s what you want, I am bound by duty to help you get it. He flashes me a confident smile. How about we hunt for a job and buy me a bed today?

  The smile I return is genuine. Deal. I need to buy other stuff, too. All I have is this outfit, and I’ve been wearing it for days. I don’t even own a tooth brush or deodorant.

  Keagan brings his hands up in front of himself and wiggles his fingers, signing that I should wait. I watch as he strides through the French door and disappears into the other room. He comes back a minute later with an iPad and hands it to me.

  I look at him with confusion.

  Make a list of everything you need to buy. It’ll be easier than browsing the aisles as you go. Unless you prefer to shop that way, he adds.

  I set the iPad on the counter so I can reply. This is great. Thank you. May I hold onto it for a bit? I’d l
ike to sit down and figure out what I need.

  Take your time.

  I leave the kitchen and make my way back to the bedroom. After I settle on the bed, I turn on the tablet and it comes to life. Instead of browsing for a writing program so I can make my list, I open the internet link. I type in Devlin Kade’s name and wait.

  Articles begin to pop up, and I click on each one to learn more about the man that has taken over my life. It doesn’t take long to figure out that he’s living a double life. His father was the late Brandon Kade, a well-known criminal and the head of an organization here in New York City. After the head patriarch had his heart attack, it was rumored that Devlin took over, but no one can verify his involvement. On paper, he’s an upstanding citizen and owns the hotel that his penthouse is in, and he also owns a very successful home security systems company. I know better, though. The man who’d held a gun to my head was Brandon Kade’s son. The real Devlin Kade, not the man who is living in the public’s eye as a successful businessman.

  I set aside the tablet and ponder another option that I haven’t considered. I could go to the police with what I know. A frown forms across my lips. But what do I really know? I don’t know what was going on at that warehouse—in fact, I don’t even know which warehouse it was. Yes, I’d been kidnapped and held overnight in his guestroom, but then I’d been released the next day to reside in this apartment. I can come and go as I please, but I can’t leave permanently. How do I explain all that? None of it will make sense to the police, and I’ll look like I’d recently escaped a mental institution.

  For the time being, I’m stuck in this weird living arrangement.

  * * *

  I stare at my reflection in the dressing room mirror, feeling doubtful about the outfit, but I also know that Keagan’s right. I need to wear something nice when applying for jobs, because they’re more likely to take me seriously if I’m dressed the part. I just don’t like the idea of spending Devlin’s cash. Although Keagan had made a very good point earlier that if I do get a job, I can begin replacing the money I’d borrowed with my first paycheck.