Beauty and the Devil

chapter 6

Samantha’s POV

The lace clung to my skin like it had a will of its own.

I pulled it on with shaking hands, barely understanding what I was doing, the words just survive this pounding like a drum behind my ribs. The fabric was sheer in all the wrong places. Feathers on the hem. Rhinestones around the neckline. It wasn’t clothing—it was a stage cue, a costume made to be stared at.

My knees wobbled as I climbed onto the bed, straddling the edge like he said. The room felt ten degrees colder. I crossed my arms over my chest, even though it didn’t hide anything.

What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?

I was twenty-five. I’d never been touched. Not really. No first kisses behind lockers. No boys sneaking through windows. I was too busy working, paying bills, keeping Michael from falling off the edge. There’d never been time for dating, never mind love.

And now my first time—my first anything —was about to happen like this? In a stranger’s house, dressed like a fantasy I didn’t recognize, with a man I’d known for all of an hour?

I thought I could handle this. I thought I could be brave.

But panic flooded my chest.

This wasn’t bravery. It was surrender.

My thoughts spiraled back to Kira. Her clipped tone when she’d sent me off. The way she hadn’t met my eyes. She knew. She knew there was a trap waiting for me here. And she let me walk into it.

My eyes darted to Clyde.

He was watching me—not hungrily, not even with lust. Just… studying. Like I was a specimen under glass.

He stepped forward. Slowly. I held my breath. He reached out—and then stopped.

“No,” he said simply. “I’m not going to touch you. That wasn’t the point.”

I blinked, not sure I’d heard right.

“This,” he gestured to the bed, to me, “was just an inspection.”

A pause.

“To see how far you’d go.”

Something broke loose inside me—anger, shame, maybe relief. I didn’t know. I just wanted to disappear.

“You’ll be working for me,” he continued, walking across the room like we hadn’t just ripped a layer off my soul. “As a performer.”

My stomach twisted. “A… what?”

He turned back to me and tossed something onto the bed.

A uniform.

The dress was short, black, dazzling with rhinestones and faint shimmer. Feathers trailed from the hem like smoke. Alongside it, a box. Inside: Yves Saint Laurent heels. Jet black. Towering. Beautiful.

“Practice walking in those,” he said. “Starting now.”

My fingers brushed the shoes. They didn’t even feel real. I stood, numb, and began to dress.

I zipped up the bodice slowly, my reflection catching in the mirror.

Who was this girl?

Rhinestones blinked like starlight across my chest. My shoulders were bare. My legs longer than I remembered. My cheeks burned.

This wasn’t me. Not the girl who used to sit with Michael doing homework. Not the girl who made clients tea and bought groceries on discount.

I was someone else now. And I didn’t know how to be her.

I flinched when I felt warm fingers at my waist.

Clyde.

He was behind me, helping with the zipper. The metal teeth dragged slowly up my back. His touch was steady. Cool. But it lingered just a little too long against my skin.

A shiver ran down my spine. My breath caught before I could stop it.

His voice, low and close: “You work for me for a year. After that, your brother’s debt is gone.”

My eyes met his in the mirror.

I swallowed. My throat felt raw. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

There was no other choice. That much was clear.

His eyes darkened with satisfaction.

“Good,” he said. “The sooner you stop pretending this is beneath you, the easier it’ll be.”