Page 37 of The Devil's Deal

And Carlito? He’s obsessed with the thought of marrying her. He won’t give her up, even if her parents put a stop to it.

“There has to be something we can do!” I urge. “Maybe you can join a monastery and swear yourself to God or some crap.”

“Yeah, okay. Be serious. My parents wouldn’t allow that. They’d drag me out of there kicking and screaming. I wish there was someone else I could marry, even if I had to pay him to pretend. Someone more powerful than my father. Someone who can take him on. Take them all on.”

She sighs, the credence in her voice that I know and love no longer there. She sounds…lost. Defeated beyond measure.

We don’t know anyone who could help her by faking a marriage. She has no other viable options. No men out there would take on the mafia for her. Definitely not another doctor at her hospital. They’d run the hell away at the first sign of trouble.

“Oh, my God!” she exclaims in a hushed tone. “My mom just said she’ll take care of moving all the arrangements. She thinks I’m old and that there’s no reason to wait. She said I need to have children soon. I can’t believe she’s doing this to me!”

My face grimaces with disgust. Raquel pregnant with that animal’s kids? I can’t even think about it without hurling.

She sniffles, her composure breaking down. The pitiful whimpers coming from her mouth cause my own tears to run past my cheeks.

I know how she feels. When I thought I’d have to marry Michael, I thought my life was over. I even considered jumping off a bridge, as awful as it sounds. But when you’re stuck with no way out, you create one.

I hear her shuffling around, heavy static coming through the phone. “I have to go. I think she’s about to come to my room.”

“Bye,” I mutter. But she’s long gone.

I let out a harsh breath. This is insane. We’re grown women, yet we have people telling us what the hell to do, planning out our entire life as though we’re inept to handle our own shit.

Stuffing the phone back into my handbag, I get to my feet, needing to lock up the place and go home to a nice, warm bed.

I head for the exit, opening the door to a muted street, except for the crickets breaking up the silence. There are a few other businesses in this area, including a cigar and sex toy shop that’s long closed. My car is the only one in the parking lot, which is the nightly occurrence since it’s already past three a.m.

Taking out my keys, I start to close the place down when the loud screeching of multiple sets of tires coming from around the corner has my heart racing like a stampede of wild horses. It must be some teenagers out for a joy ride.

I fumble with the keys, the cars getting closer, my heart now beating in my throat.

Shit. I have to get the hell out of here. What if they see me and stop? What if they hurt me?

My hand trembles with the keys still attached to the door.

Close the damn thing and run to your car!

Suddenly,the noise stops as though it never was. The cars must’ve left. The relief comes like a grenade.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Loud thuds of someone’s feet crash against the pavement, and my eyes widen with the rapid pacing of my breathing.

My stomach dips, diving with the fear taking over all my thoughts. My mind says to go, but my body won’t budge.

Multiple footsteps now.

My knees buckle. An icy cold tremor runs down my body.

Don’t turn around.

This is a dream.

They’re not here for you.

A shiver runs down the entire length of my body, and I tremble out a breath just as a hard body presses into my back from behind. A man’s bulky chest shoves into me until my cheek lands flat against the cold door.

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