❝So, you think you danced with the Devil and you love him now?❞
𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓.
𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.
A book where the Devil ends up being the savior.
This is not your usual love story. It's a...
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"Not even a shot of vodka with that, angel?"
I've never heard that voice before. It was definitely a man. It had a firm yet soft tone... kind of sexy if I don't say so myself. I turn my head to see who it was talking to me. The minute I saw this mans face by whole body trembled.
The one and only Michael fucking Jackson. His face looks way better when he's right in front on you. Now I see why all the girls are dropping their panties for this man.
"You're Mich-Mr. Jackson," I correct myself, almost about to have a heart attack. He gives me a grin while swaying the glass of bourbon that's in his hand.
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"Yes I am, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you are," He said, sitting down on the bar stool next to me, "what's a pretty girl like you sitting alone at the bar?"
"Oh... I've never been really been the partying type, my friends are on the dance floor right now." I replied, pointing over at the crowd. I sheepishly take a sip of my soda that the bartender just gave me.
"Don't be nervous around me, here let me buy you a drink," he said resting his hand on top of mine. I can't drink, I'm not even 21, what do I say? And yes I am still freaking out that Michael Jackson is talking to me.
"Oh I can't, I mean, I don't because..." I said struggling to make up a lie.
"You can't drink because you're the girl that snuck in without an ID, is that why?" He asked with a smirk. How...?
"How'd you know it was me?" I asked anxiously. I knew I was going to get caught, I shouldn't have come tonight.
He pulls his hand away from mine and puts it on the small of my back, "Oh angel, I know everything, no one can hide anything from me."
"I'm so sorry Mr. Jackson, I'll leave right now," I say about to get up from the bar stool. He pulls me back by my waist and brings his face closer to mine.
