The echo of Rachel Bellini's heels against the polished marble floor seemed deafening in the cavernous gallery. She loved the quiet solace of her work, examining centuries-old paintings and sculptures, escaping into history and beauty. But today, her mind was restless, distracted by the cryptic voicemail left by her brother, Marco, the night before.

"Rachel, I messed up. I need your help. Meet me at the usual place tomorrow. Don't tell anyone."

Her chest tightened as she replayed the message in her head. Marco had always been reckless, but this time his voice sounded different—desperate. She checked her watch. He was an hour late to their meeting spot, an old coffee shop on the edge of Brooklyn. He hadn't shown up, hadn't called back.

Rachel's phone buzzed, jolting her out of her thoughts. The screen displayed an unknown number. She hesitated, then answered.

"Hello?"

"Miss Bellini," a deep, unfamiliar voice said. "I believe we need to talk. About your brother."

Hours later, Rachel found herself standing outside a grand estate on Long Island, its gates tall and foreboding. The driver who had picked her up said little, his stony expression offering no clues about what awaited her inside.

The interior was lavish, almost unnervingly so—dark wood paneling, crystal chandeliers, and priceless artwork adorning the walls. It smelled of money, power, and something darker.

She was led into a study, where a man sat behind an ornate mahogany desk. He exuded authority, his tailored suit impeccable, his sharp features partially shadowed in the dim light.

"Rachel Bellini," he said, leaning back in his chair, his piercing gray eyes locking onto hers. "I'm Luca DeLuca."

The name hit her like a slap. She'd heard whispers of him before—a powerful crime lord whose influence stretched across the city. Dangerous and untouchable.

"Where's Marco?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her efforts to stay composed.

Luca raised an eyebrow, amused by her boldness. "Your brother owes me a great deal of money. A debt he seems to think you might be willing to repay."

"What?" Rachel gasped. "Marco didn't tell me anything about this!"

Luca slid a piece of paper across the desk. It was a contract, her brother's signature scrawled at the bottom.

"A hundred thousand dollars," Luca said calmly. "Due two weeks ago. He disappeared shortly after signing this. Convenient, don't you think?"

Rachel's heart pounded. "I don't have that kind of money."

"Then we have a problem," Luca said, his voice low and menacing. He stood, walking around the desk until he was inches away from her. "You may not know this, Miss Bellini, but I always collect my debts."

Desperation flickered in Rachel's mind. "There must be another way," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

Luca studied her for a moment, then smirked. "You're an art historian, aren't you? I have a proposal for you."

Rachel frowned. "What kind of proposal?"

"I deal in many things," Luca said, gesturing around the room, where stolen masterpieces hung in plain sight. "Some of my... associates deal in art. You'll work for me. Help me recover stolen pieces, appraise their value, ensure I'm not being cheated. Do that, and I'll consider your brother's debt repaid."

Rachel hesitated. She wanted to refuse, to walk away from this man and his world. But Marco's life was on the line, and she had no other choice.

"Fine," she said finally. "But once the debt is repaid, I'm done."

Luca smiled, a slow, predatory grin. "Of course," he said. But the gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise.

As Rachel walked out of the study, her heart heavy with uncertainty, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just made a deal with the devil.