My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 37 Deal With The Devil

NOVA POV

"My rules are simple,"

Luca drawled, his fingers circling lazily around the rim of his glass. He looked like a man on vacation; relaxed, careless but I wasn’t fooled. Behind that mask of nonchalance were the shadows of men in plain clothes, stationed at the edges of the room, pretending to blend with the crowd. All Burly, silent and waiting for any inconvenience.

A noose. That’s what this was. And I could already feel the rope tightening around my throat.

"I have what you need, and more importantly, what you don’t even realize you’re looking for."

His dark eyes bored into mine, a slow smile curving his lips.

"But I’ll only give it to you... on one condition."

My pulse stuttered. Justice had always been my weakness, the word alone rattled in my bones like a sacred bell. I wanted to walk away, but my feet stayed rooted under the table.

"What’s the condition?"

Luca leaned forward, setting his drink aside. The space between us evaporated until our knees almost touched. I flinched but forced myself not to retreat, burying my trembling hands in the pocket of my oversized hoodie.

His smile didn’t soften. It sharpened. "You stick to every one of my rules."

I blinked at him. My throat scratched when I finally rasped, "Wait—your single instruction... is that I obey multiple rules?"

"Yes." His tone was dismissive, as though my question wasted his time.

"And do I—do I get to know what those rules even are?"

"No. You don’t. But you need my information."

My hand slammed against the table before I realized what I’d done, my voice cracking, raw with panic.

"Seriously? This doesn’t even sound ideal. It’s like signing myself off to the devil. I don’t even know you!"

The glass rattled from the impact of my hand. My vision blurred with tears I hadn’t wanted to shed. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Who is this man, and why does he unravel me so damn easily?

"Calm yourself. Now."

The words snapped from between his teeth like a whip. His jaw was locked, his fists curled tight against his knees.

Gone was the charming Italian god from the ballroom. This Luca was dangerous. Deadly. The kind of danger that didn’t seduce, but devoured.

I froze, swiping quickly at my wet cheeks, praying no one in the restaurant noticed. But the music drowned our sharp words, and his men had already honed in on me like I was prey cornered by wolves.

Then his gaze met mine, and the flirty façade vanished completely. What stared back at me wasn’t a man. it was a void dressed in Armani.

"I hate when foolish people waste my time," he said, each syllable low and measured, his voice vibrating with contempt.

"Are you in or out? I don’t give a damn if your parents get justice or not. What I want from you, I can take in other ways. But the information I have? You won’t find it anywhere else."

It was like being choked by smoke with no grip, no escape. My fingers clenched around the pens in my pocket, the pathetic weapons the only thing keeping me from collapsing.

"I..." My voice broke. I swallowed hard and nodded, more in surrender than agreement.

His lips curved, victorious. "Good. From now on, we’re in a relationship. And—"

"What?!" The word burst out of me before I could smother it. Heads turned at nearby tables, curious for a second before drifting back to their meals.

"Do you mean fake relationship, or—"

His raised hand cut through my words like a blade.

"You’d better act like it until I say it’s over. I will send you gifts and all the frivolities you bitches love. And you will act impressed. You will act in love. Do you understand me?"

"Just gifts?" I asked in all high hopes.

His stare was a command in itself. My chest heaved, but no words came. What was I supposed to say? thank you? Yes, sir?

Inside, every instinct screamed: What the hell did you just agree to, Nova?

I liked tropes about fake marriages and enemies-to-lovers in books, sure. But those heroines didn’t sit across from men who looked like they’d slit their throats if they blinked wrong.

Luca’s eyes pinned me, colder than ice.

"You think this is about gifts? No. You accept my gifts—and me—into your life."

"You? Into my life?"

I shook my head violently.

"No. I don’t want a relationship with you!"

He scoffed, leaning back like I’d insulted him.

"You think I want one with you either?" His lip curled as if the thought was disgusting. "I don’t do Grant’s second-hand toys."

My breath hitched, shame flaring. "I—I’m not—"

"Don’t bother denying it." His voice was sharp enough to draw blood. "Grant’s fucked you. I’d bet my empire he popped your cherry."

Heat slammed into my face, mortification burning me alive.

"All I need from you," he went on smoothly, as though dissecting me wasn’t enough, "is to fake happiness when I send you things. That shouldn’t be hard. Bitches love freebies."

The insult stung like a slap, but I bit it down, choking on my pride.

"Is that all?" I asked quietly.

"No."

His smile widened, cruel. "You answer my calls. You reply to my texts. You go out with me when I say so. And you never, ever let Grant know you’re being forced. If anyone finds out this is a sham or if word leaks.. you’re cooked. Just like your parents."

The mention of them, mocked in his tongue, twisted in his smile made my stomach drop.

"But Grant will think... he’ll think we’re together. He’s still with me—"

"Don’t waste that empty skull worrying over Grant."

Luca’s voice was a scalpel. "You’re with him, not the other way around. He uses girls like you for appetizers before his real meals. Once he tires of your sweet virgin cunt, he’ll toss you aside. Just like he did Sandy."

I froze, breath locked in my lungs. My eyes widened in horror.

Luca laughed, regal and sharp, like a king watching his pawn crumble. "Oh, Cara Mia. When I say I know everything, I mean it. Best believe me."

My nails dug into my palms until pain grounded me.

"I’m not going to... you know... do something with you—"

He cut me off with a dark chuckle. "Stupid. Don’t flatter yourself. I have women for that. Not bitches like you."

His words were dismissive, but his eyes held me hostage, until finally, he leaned back and gestured for the waiter like I was already dismissed.

"Have a good life, Cara Mia. Try not to die before this little arrangement runs its course."

The chair felt like it tilted under me. My heart hammered against my ribs. I told myself it had to be done and that I needed answers, that my parents’ blood deserved justice.

But all I could think as I stumbled out of that restaurant was one thing: I’ve just sold my soul to the devil!.