"Beneath His Debt" – Part 2: The Invitation

Previously: You helped a bleeding man on the street — mysterious, arrogant, way too attractive. He left with only a name: Adrian. Now, two days later, your life changes.

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[Scene 1 – Your Apartment]

You’re pouring cheap coffee into a cracked mug when the knock comes.

Three sharp raps on your peeling wooden door.

Your heart jumps. Nobody knocks here — they yell. Or barge in.

You open it slowly.

It’s a man in a black suit, standing rigid.

> “Miss [Your Name]?”

> “Yes…?”

He doesn’t smile. Just hands you an envelope.

> “Mr. Vaireaux would like to see you. Your interview is in one hour. Car’s waiting.”

> “Interview?”

> “You’ll understand when you arrive.”

Before you can say a word, he nods and steps away — leaving only silence and a thick, ivory envelope.

Your name is written on the front. In elegant ink.

Inside: a single black card.

And an address.

Vaireaux Tower.

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[Scene 2 – Vaireaux Tower]

The car that picks you up is… well, not the Uber you’re used to.

Sleek. Silent. Smells like leather and money. The driver doesn’t speak, just glides through the city until you’re staring up at the skyscraper.

It’s like something out of a movie. Glass and steel reaching into the clouds.

You swallow hard.

Inside, everything is polished marble, chrome edges, people in heels and black suits moving like they’re programmed. You don’t fit here — hoodie, worn-out jeans, nerves screaming.

The receptionist smiles — like she already knows who you are.

> “Miss [Your Name], Mr. Vaireaux is expecting you. Top floor.”

Top. Floor.

You ride up 73 floors in silence, heart pounding.

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[Scene 3 – The Interview]

The elevator opens to silence. Private. Luxurious.

The office is massive — city skyline stretching endlessly behind floor-to-ceiling windows.

And at the center of it…

Him.

He’s leaning back in a chair, one leg crossed, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up. A bandage peeks out under his white shirt from where you patched him days ago.

He doesn’t look up immediately — flipping through a file.

> “You showed up.”

You cross your arms. “What is this?”

> “A job interview,” he says calmly. “Sit.”

You stay standing.

He sighs — finally meeting your eyes.

> “You’re stubborn. I like that.”

> “I’m not some stray you can throw money at.”

He stands, slow and deliberate. His presence is… consuming. You can feel it press into your chest.

> “You saved my life,” he says. “You didn’t ask for anything. That bothers me.”

> “Why?”

> “Because no one does anything for free. Which means either you’re stupid—” he takes a step closer “—or dangerous.”

> “Maybe I’m both.”

A smirk. Dangerous. Lethal.

> “Good. Then you’ll survive this.”

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[Scene 4 – The Offer]

He gestures to the chair across from his desk. You finally sit, jaw tight.

He slides a folder toward you.

> “This is a job. Personal assistant. You’ll work under me. Schedule meetings. Take calls. Travel. Disappear when I say so.”

> “Disappear?”

> “You’ll be mine when I need you. No questions.”

You blink. “That’s not a job. That’s servitude.”

> “You want a paycheck or a debt clearance?”

He taps the folder. Inside:

Your full student loan debt

Your rent receipts

Your medical bills from your mom’s last hospital visit

You freeze.

> “How did you get all this?”

He leans forward.

> “You helped me. Now I’m helping you. If you sign this, your debt’s gone. But you work for me. I own your time.”

> “Why me?”

> “Because I don’t trust anyone,” he says. “Except the girl who kneeled on the pavement and ignored the blood.”

Silence.

You don’t realize your hands are shaking until he notices — and his voice softens, just barely.

> “You can walk out. I won’t stop you.”

> “And if I stay?”

He smiles. Not soft. Not sweet. Possessive.

> “Then you’ll find out exactly who I am.”

---

[Scene 5 – The Decision]

You sign.

You don’t know why.

Desperation. Curiosity. The way his eyes never left yours.

Maybe you just wanted to feel like you had a choice.

As soon as your pen lifts, he speaks:

> “You start now.”

You blink. “Now?”

> “My schedule’s already been updated. You’ll ride with me tonight.”

> “Tonight?”

He stands. Walks over. And hands you a black garment bag.

> “You’ll need to look like you belong.”

---

[Scene 6 – That Night]

The dress is silk. Deep navy. It hugs in all the wrong (right) places.

When he sees you waiting by the car, he stops mid-step.

Eyes dragging down your body, slow, unreadable.

> “That’s mine?”

> “The dress or me?”

A pause. Then a chuckle. Low and quiet.

> “Both.”

In the back of the car, silence hums between you. But not comfort.

Charge.

He watches you like a puzzle he already owns but still enjoys solving.

> “You looked terrified this morning.”

> “I was.”

> “And now?”

You glance at him. “Still am.”

> “Good.”

You arch a brow.

> “Fear means you’re smart,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Stay smart. Don’t trust anyone at that party tonight. Especially me.”

> “Why bring me then?”

> “Because I like having you close.”

---

[Scene 7 – The Party]

It’s a rooftop gala. Champagne. Laughter. Diamond everything.

You feel like a walking fake.

But Adrian?

He owns the room.

Power drips from every glance he gives. Every handshake. And every time someone approaches, he slides an arm around your waist like a silent warning:

> She’s with me.

One woman — tall, stunning, clearly someone from his past — brushes her fingers down his arm.

> “New assistant, Adrian? You’re hiring pretty now.”

Before you can react, he smiles — sharp and cruel.

> “She’s not just pretty. She’s expensive.”

> “How much?”

His eyes flash.

> “More than you can afford.”

He turns to you, smirking, like you’re in on the game.

Like you’re his weapon.

Your heart thunders.

But you don’t look away.

---

[Scene 8 – The Rooftop]

Later, you step away to breathe — champagne untouched, city lights sprawling below.

He finds you.

> “They bore you?”

> “They scare me.”

> “Good. You’re still sane.”

He stands beside you. Close.

Too close.

> “What happens when you’re done helping me?” you ask.

> “I don’t do ‘done.’”

> “So I’m yours forever?”

> “Until I say otherwise.”

You turn. “You’re insane.”

> “Probably.”

He steps closer — a hand brushing your lower back.

> “But you did sign, sweetheart. That makes you mine.”

> “What if I want out?”

He leans in — lips almost brushing your ear.

> “Then you’ll have to run.”

Your breath catches.

But instead of moving away…

You whisper:

> “Then maybe I’ll make you chase me.”

He freezes.

Then laughs — deep and real — before looking down at you with something dark and wild in his eyes.

> “Careful. I always catch what’s mine.”

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✨ TO BE CONTINUED…

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