Deal With The Devil

Deal With The Devil AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE VIVIAN WOOD Contents Author’s Copyright Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 About Vivian Wood Author’s Copyright Copyright Vivian Wood 2023 May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. Thank you for respecting that the author’s blood, sweat, and tears went into writing this. As always, thank you to my team — to Patricia, Angela, and Honey. You folks turned my rough uncut stone into a dazzling gem! I want to thank my beta team too — Priscilla, Rachael, Amanda. Without you, my book would be full of weird anachronistic bits and I would never remember what color anybody’s eyes are supposed to be. Dare and Talia’s romance really shines bright because of y’all. Playlist Doja Cat — Vegas Glass Animals — Heat Waves Run The Jewels — No Save Point Fleetwood Mac — Gold Dust Woman Garbage — Only Happy When It Rains Sufjan Stevens — Chicago Taylor Swift w/Lana del Ray — Snow On The Beach Ariana Grande — Positions The Rapture — House of Jealous Lovers Lizzo — About Damn Time Phoebe Bridgers — Georgia Bruno Mars w/Cardi B — Finesse Yeah Yeah Yeahs — Gold Lion Boygenius — Bite The Hand Neutral Milk Hotel — Holland, 1945 Peaches — Fuck The Pain Away Chris Isaak — Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing Pixies — Here Comes Your Man The New Pornographers — The Bleeding Heart Show SZA — Kill Bill Crystal Castles — Crimewave Sam Smith w/Kim Petras — Unholy Bad Bunny — Tití Me Preguntó Catch it on Spotify! Chapter One TALIA Money is the root of all evil. There is no way for most people to know that, though. It's the type of knowledge that comes with firsthand knowledge of just what it’s like to be poor. Counting all your quarters and dimes to afford public transit, eating peanut butter straight from the jar because you can’t afford bread this week, choosing between going to the dentist and being able to pay rent kind of poor. I fidget with my necklace, the only piece of jewelry I have that my mother gave me as a child, and try not to grimace as I stand in the tiny bit of shelter provided by the building I’m huddled in front of. The street is dark and the night rain-slicked. I blow on my aching fingers to keep them from freezing as I wait. Each minute seems to drag by, with me pulling my flip phone out of my pocket regularly to check the time. No texts. I pull a battered copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from my pocket and try to get lost in the story, but it’s just too damned cold for me to focus. Across the street, I watch as a party of drunk people climb the stairs of The Raven’s Head Club, talking loudly and laughing. These are the exact kinds of people I’m talking about. The men are in dark overcoats, their expensive watches and designer suits showing as they reach for the door. The women are huddled under umbrellas. Their expensive red-soled high heels clack against the stone pavers underfoot. There is no doubt that beneath their wool coats are expensive dresses in showy colors, golds and silvers, and bright pink satin. I detest these people. And to drive it home for me, as a group they are too involved with themselves to even notice me glaring at them, waiting in the chilly rain for my friend to show up. Ugh, I am only waiting for five more minutes at the very latest. Glancing at my watch, I shiver. Olivia is late, as is her wont. It’s basically her only flaw in a lifetime of wonderful friendship, so I let it slide. But I’m still stuck waiting for her here, having stepped off the bus into the rainy early winter evening. Now I’m waiting for her to appear, as instructed, unsure about why I’m looking at The Raven’s Head Club. I’ve never seen the place before in my life, not that there is much to see. Just a set of stairs, a large black door, and a little plaque telling the world that the club is by invitation only. I hear a voice calling out and turn, hopeful that it is Olivia. But no, it's a group of girls whispering and cackling amongst themselves. "Shhh," one of them says to the rest. "Hurry, we don’t want to be late. Burn was very specific about us being on time." There is an explosion of giggles. "Burn is so hot!" one of the women whispers in response. "It’s unbelievable that someone so rich can be such a hunk." Another round of giggles, coupled with a couple of soft agreements. "He’s dreamy," another girl says wistfully. "They both are." "I like Dare. He’s so angry and brooding. It makes me think that he’s an absolute dragon in the bedroom." Their names mean next to nothing to me, but the whispered comment does make me wonder. Who are the girls talking about? Obviously, the sort of men that inspire this kind of gossip in this group of well-to-do girls are something to be seen. Then again, judging solely from the vacuous giggles and the long, expensive-to-maintain hairstyles of the group, the guys might just be the usual bland men in skinny black ties, designer black suits, and so much cologne that it makes you want to barf. Yeah, on second thought, I probably don’t want to meet any guys that this crowd of women talks about. Hard pass. I