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The air in the room was unnervingly still, so thick that each breath I took felt heavy as I stepped inside. To my surprise, there was no entourage—no bodyguards, no right-hand man like you’d see in the movies. It was just him. Waiting.

Priest Vale.

He sat behind a sleek desk of dark wood and glass. The way his eyes tracked my every movement made my skin itch. I felt like I’d walked into a situation where my fate was already decided.

At around six feet and a few inches, he carried himself like a man who knew his own power—shoulders squared, spine straight, his broad but lean frame draped in a bespoke suit that fit him like it had been stitched onto his skin.

The fabric alone probably cost more than most people made in a month.

Behind his jacket, the outline of his gun holster was just visible, a quiet reminder of the kind of man I was dealing with.

His hair was dark, nearly black, his jaw clean- shaven and sharp enough to cut glass.

His lips were full, his features carved with a precision that bordered on cruel beauty.

But his eyes—God, his eyes—were the most unsettling part.

Not brown, not black, just deep, like staring into the void between stars. He looked like power personified.

My pulse kicked up, thudding too fast in my throat.

He was the kind of attractive that made you forget caution—like reaching for a rose even when you knew damn well it was covered in thorns.

Maya’s hushed warnings about him echoed in my head.

“Don’t contact him. Don’t get involved.” But what else was I supposed to do?

Let him kill her? Let him have her out on the corner, selling pussy to repay him?

No. I’d been cleaning up Maya’s messes since we were kids.

And in the back of my mind, I think she knew I would do anything to save her.

She was all I had. When I turned twenty, our parents quietly stepped away, as if they’d finished some unspoken term of service.

They weren’t cruel—they left us enough money to survive, half a million dollars.

They were older when they had us, both professors about to retire.

I guess they hadn’t thought through having kids in their late thirties.

Eleven years later, the money had bled dry, and I found myself standing before a man who held my sister’s future in his hands, piecing together the life their absence had fractured. Maya’s drug habit came after they’d left. She’d rebelled.

My palms tingled where my nails had dug into them, the sharp pain the only thing keeping my hands from shaking.

Priest didn’t smile. Didn’t greet me. Just leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers steepled like he had all the time in the world to decide what happened next.

“So you’re Maya’s sister.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it rumbled, vibrating in my chest before it even reached my ears. Like distant thunder.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “I am.”

“Why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here,” I said, fighting to keep the edge out of my tone and my attitude from showing on my face.

He nodded, just slightly. “I want the words to come from your lips. So there’s no misunderstandings.”

A knot twisted in my stomach. “My sister owes you money.”

A tilt of his head. “Ten thousand dollars, correct?”

I shifted my weight, my shoe scuffing against the floor. “Yes. I can get you the money—I just need— ”

“I don’t want the money.”

My breath hitched.

What the fuck does he want, then?

He stood, unfolding himself from the chair. He removed his suit jacket, then rolled up his sleeves with slow, deliberate movements—like he wanted me to watch. Like he wanted me to see the ink coiled around his forearms, the strength in his hands.

Then he rounded the desk, each step unhurried, until he was too close. The scent of leather and whiskey wrapped around me.

“Sit down.”

It wasn’t a request.

I didn’t hesitate. The chair creaked under me as I sank into it, my pulse hammering. He loomed over me, his gaze dragging over my face, my body. The maxi dress I’d worn suddenly felt too tight, too revealing, like he could see straight through it.

“Your sister took product on credit to distribute. She ruined half trying to cut it and shot up the rest. That makes her a liability.” There was a pause.

His stare weighed down on me like a physical force.

“I was going to handle it my way. Then she called and said you would handle it. I don’t let people who owe me decide how they pay. But then I saw you. ”

My nails bit deeper into my palms. “What does that mean, ‘you saw me’?”

“It means I’ll wipe her debt.” Another pause, deliberate. “And give you ten grand on top of it to send her to rehab.”

The room tilted. My stomach clenched, because men like him weren’t generous without reason—and whatever he wanted in return would cost me. “Why?”

“One night. One time. With you.”

Silence.

My brain scrambled to process what he was saying, but my body understood.

Heat flickered low in my stomach despite myself.

I crossed my legs tightly, watching him watch me.

The corner of his mouth wasn’t quite turned up into a smile, but there was a smirk.

He was amused, maybe. Like my shock entertained him.

“One night. One time. With me,” I echoed. “For what?” I needed him to say it.

He didn’t blink. “I want you. To fuck you. No strings. No questions. You come to me tonight, and your sister walks free in the morning. Her debt’s cleared. Rehab’s paid for. Your surrender for her freedom. One night.”

A cold prickle ran down my spine. He made it sound simple, but my gut instinct screamed that it wouldn’t be .

He perched on the edge of the desk, arms crossed. The dim light carved shadows along the sharp angles of his face. “Don’t overthink it. The answer is yes or no. This isn’t a negotiation.”

My throat burned. I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling. The clock on the wall ticked, too loud in the silence.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Because I want you.” His voice was blunt, unapologetic. “And wanting something has always been reason enough for me. It’ll have to be reason enough for you too.”

How the hell do you respond to that?

“Can I think about it?” My voice sounded small, foreign to my own ears. I wasn’t the type to back down, but this man? He scared me too much to run my mouth.

“You’ve got until midnight,” he said, unmoving. “My driver will be outside your building, waiting. If you’re in the car, the deal’s on. If not…” He shrugged. “I won’t ask again, and I’ll handle your sister as I see fit.” He gave me a long look, then nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

Still I sat there, staring at him.

“Your name doesn’t fit you,” I said before I could stop myself. “Priest? You’re nothing holy.” I spat .

He smiled, slow.

“Why not?” he asked, leaning in close enough that I felt the heat of his breath on my mouth. “I make people kneel.”

His hand slid up my throat, not tightly. It was just there.

“I require devotion. Confession. Sacrifice.” His thumb stroked the line of my jaw. “Sounds pretty fucking priestly to me.”

He paused. Then his voice dropped low.

“You should accept my offer. Let me show you how to pray… at my altar, little saint.”

I knocked his hand away and stood, my legs unsteady beneath me. I schooled my face, trying my hardest not to show how aroused his words had made me. I could feel the weight of his gaze following me as I walked out of his office, feeling like I’d just met the devil.