Beauty and the Devil

chapter 16

Samantha’s POV

The first thing I noticed was that the bed was cold.

Not just on his side—everywhere. The sheets were smooth. Untouched. He hadn’t come back to sleep. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, not moving. My skin still felt warm from what we did the night before. But the air around me had gone dry. Empty.

His scent lingered faintly on the pillow—clean soap, the expensive kind, and a trace of his cologne. Earthy, dark, and exact. That was all that was left of him.

I got up. Slowly. My legs were sore. My body ached in small ways, intimate ways, but the ache in my chest was louder. I walked barefoot down the hall, wrapped in a robe, pausing by every door like I expected to find him in one of the rooms. I didn’t.

Downstairs, the house was spotless. Polished wood. Stainless steel. No sound but the faint hum of the refrigerator. No coffee made. No dishes. Nothing out of place.

He was gone.

He hadn’t even left a note.

I sat in the breakfast room with a full cup of tea and didn’t take a sip. My hands were wrapped around the mug for warmth, but my fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. The clock ticked. The sun moved across the floor tiles.

By noon, I’d stopped checking the time.

By four, I’d stopped hoping the door would open.

By sunset, I felt like furniture.

The house smelled like citrus cleaner. My skin still smelled like him. My body remembered everything, and it made me feel stupid.

The front door opened just after dark.

I didn’t get up right away. I didn’t rush to him, ask where he’d been, or pretend anything was normal. I walked to the hallway slowly. My feet were quiet on the tile. I saw him shrugging off his coat, casual like he’d just returned from the grocery store.

My throat went tight.

“You disappeared,” I said. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.

He didn’t look surprised to see me. Just said, “I had things to handle.”

No apology. No explanation.

My chest went still. “Didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

He looked at me for real then. His eyes locked on mine, but there was no softness. Something in him had gone flat. Cold.

“If you want to go,” he said, “I won’t stop you.”

The words didn’t land in my ears. They landed lower. In my stomach. In the part of me that had finally let itself believe he felt something.

I swallowed hard. My jaw clicked from how tightly I clenched it.

“I’ve earned ninety-five thousand euros since my first night,” I said. My voice felt too calm. “My brother’s debt is almost paid.”

He didn’t answer.

“You still think I’m lying,” I said.

He didn’t deny it.

“You made love to me like I was the only thing keeping you alive,” I said, and I felt the air leave my lungs. “And now you won’t even look at me.”

He lowered his eyes.

“I don’t know what to believe,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t the answer I wanted. It wasn’t even an answer.

“Claire told you things,” I said. My skin felt hot.

He nodded. Slowly. Once.

I blinked, but the burn behind my eyes didn’t go away.

“So you believed her,” I said. “Over me.”

More silence.

I felt myself switch off.

The disappointment wasn’t loud. It was clean. Cold. Sharp.

I turned around and walked upstairs. Every step felt harder than it should’ve. The carpet muffled my movement, but my chest felt louder than ever. I opened drawers and packed without thinking. Socks. Shirts. Jeans. Toothbrush. Done.

I zipped the bag with practiced fingers.

When I came back downstairs, he was still standing in the same place. Still hadn’t moved. He looked at me like he expected something.

I gave him nothing.

“I’m not a toy,” I said. “And I’m not your prisoner.”

He didn’t react.

“I told you,” he said, just as quiet as before. “I won’t stop you.”

I looked at him one last time.

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Last night. What was it to you?”

He didn’t blink.

“This between us was a deal,” he said. “You were never a guest here. You work for me.”

Each word chipped away at something I hadn’t realized I still had.

“And now that your brother’s debt is paid,” he said, “you can go. I won’t stop you.”

That was the moment I knew I didn’t matter to him. Not the way I thought I did.

I walked to the door.