Ruby Sinclair never intended to step into the shadows of New York's most feared crime lord. As an investigative journalist, she's spent years exposing corruption , but when she stumbles upon a deadly secret, her life becomes a bargaining chip in a dangerous game. Damien Vitale, known as The Devil, rules the city's underworld with an iron fist. Cold. Lethal. Untouchable. But when Ruby threatens to uncover truths that could bring his empire crumbling down, he makes a choice, blackmail her into his world or risk losing everything he's built. What starts as a battle of wills turns into a dangerous obsession. Ruby should hate him. Damien should let her go. But neither can resist the temptation that burns between them. Yet in a world where enemies lurk in every shadow, trusting the wrong person can be deadly. And when a betrayal shatters everything, Damien is faced with the unthinkable, losing the one woman who makes him feel human. He vowed he'd never love. Now he'll burn the city to the ground to keep her. But what if saving her means losing himself?
Chapter 1 1
The sharp click of Ruby Sinclair's heels echoed down the dimly lit alley, each step measured, each breath carefully controlled. The scent of rain clung to the cool night air, mixing with the pungent aroma of the city-gasoline, damp concrete, and the faint trace of something darker. Something that sent a shiver up her spine.
She shouldn't be here.
Her fingers curled tighter around the small voice recorder hidden inside her coat pocket, the weight of it pressing against her palm like a silent warning. She had worked leads before-dangerous ones, ones that made her question if she was in over her head-but none had ever led her to him.
Damien Vitale.
The Devil of New York.
A name whispered in darkened rooms, spoken with reverence and fear alike.
And now she was about to walk straight into his den.
Her editor had warned her. Don't chase this story, Ruby. People disappear when they get too close.
But she had ignored the warning, just like she always did. Because Ruby Sinclair didn't back down.
She squared her shoulders as she approached the entrance of La Notte, an exclusive, high-end club nestled in the heart of the city-a place where men in tailored suits and women draped in diamonds indulged in vices behind closed doors. It was rumored to be Damien's playground, his kingdom of excess and power, where alliances were made over bloodstained deals.
The bouncer at the entrance barely spared her a glance before stepping aside. No ID check. No questions. He knew she was expected.
Her stomach twisted.
Inside, the club pulsed with dark energy, the bass from the music thrumming through her veins as she navigated the sea of bodies. Low lighting cast sultry shadows along the walls, flickering over the polished mahogany bar, over the intimate booths draped in deep red velvet. Waitresses weaved through the crowd, their dresses dangerously short, their smiles flirtatious but calculated.
And then, she saw him.
Damien Vitale sat in the back of the club, in a private section roped off from the rest of the world. He was exactly as the rumors described-ruthless elegance wrapped in a three-piece suit, his presence commanding even in silence. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table in front of him, his long fingers tracing the rim lazily, as if he had all the time in the world.
His dark eyes found hers instantly.
Ruby's breath caught.
There was something unsettling about his gaze, something that held her captive before she could force herself to look away.
"Miss Sinclair."
The smooth, velvety timbre of his voice slid over her like a caress, sending a shiver down her spine. He didn't stand. Didn't gesture for her to come closer. He simply watched, waiting.
She forced her legs to move.
Her heartbeat pounded as she slid into the seat across from him, her fingers tightening around the strap of her purse.
"You know my name," she said, masking the nerves with defiance.
His lips curved slightly, not quite a smirk, but close. "I make it my business to know everyone who steps into my world."
There was something about the way he said my world that made her pulse skitter. A warning. A claim.
"You've been asking questions, giornalista."
The Italian rolled off his tongue like silk, but the weight behind the words made her chest constrict.
Ruby swallowed. "That's my job."
"No." Damien leaned forward slightly, his gaze dropping to her parted lips before meeting her eyes again. "Your job is to report stories. But the kind of questions you've been asking? That's a good way to end up buried in concrete."
A warning. A threat.
She forced herself to hold his gaze. "If that were true, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."
He chuckled, the sound low and dark, like he was genuinely amused by her audacity. "Maybe," he murmured, his fingers still tracing the rim of his glass. "Or maybe I haven't decided what to do with you yet."
A slow, creeping sense of danger wrapped around her spine, but she refused to back down.
She took a steady breath. "I came here for answers, Mr. Vitale."
"And what makes you think I'll give them to you?"
"You wouldn't have agreed to this meeting if you weren't at least curious."
His head tilted slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Or maybe I just wanted to see the woman reckless enough to put herself in my path."
A slow beat of silence stretched between them.
Then, without looking away from her, Damien lifted his whiskey glass and took a sip, the movement effortless, calculated. He set it down with a soft clink before leaning back against the booth.
"Tell me, Ruby..." His voice was almost hypnotic now, coaxing. Dangerously seductive. "Do you believe in the devil?"
Her throat went dry.
And in that moment, she realized-this wasn't an interview. This was a game. And Damien Vitale never played fair.