My brain refuses to work and my voice is stuck somewhere in my esophagus. His eyes glitter underneath the impossibly long eyelashes, pinning me in place.

He seems more mature than the last time I saw him. His features seem sharper and his eyes, harder. His skin glows golden tan as though he just came back from a holiday on a sun-drenched island or a yacht. His dark brown hair is a bit longer than the last time I saw him, the end teases the collar of his snowy white dress shirt. Even covered in his suit that he wears so well, I can see that his body is broader with a trim stomach. How old is he now? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?

He's younger than Nico but he seems more mature. He also has that charisma and authoritative presence that Nico lacks. I'm drawn to the powerful and dangerous magnetic vortex that swirls around him.

We stare at each other like two opponents squaring off and I don't know how long we've been staring at each other when I hear a small cough from one of his goons who brought me here. I'm the first to look away, breaking our eye contact, trying to clear whatever fog that surrounds my brain.

That pull. That connection. It's even stronger this time or maybe it's stronger than I remember it to be? At this point, I don't know. All I know is that I have to stop myself from submitting to that feeling again. It's necessary for my self-preservation. I will not be destroyed like the last time. I'm not the same naive 16-year old anymore.

Besides, he's about to marry Naomi Walsh. I could still see the image of him with his arm around her very clearly in my mind and that's enough to burn me up with anger and rebuild my wall.

From my peripheral vision, I see him nods at his men. They give him a little bow before taking off. The click of the door closing behind them seems so loud.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, clenching my teeth while staring at everything around his office but at him. It's a sizeable office with two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the New York City skyline is magnificent.

I can feel his eyes watching me and the air continue to sizzle with electricity between us but I refuse to give in to that pull to look at him again.

"Have a seat, Danica," he says, indicating one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

Warmth slithers down my spine at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue and I struggle to seem unaffected by it or his presence. "No, thanks. I'd much rather stand. I won't be staying long," I tell him, airily.

"I see," he says slowly before he moves to take a seat behind his desk.

An awkward silence stretches between us and I'm determined not to be the one who breaks it.

His eyes narrowed on my wedding invitation before he finally says, "So, what's this?" He throws the ivory and gold card in the middle of his desk as though it's personally offended him. The bottom of the invitation card is heavily wrinkled.

"You know what that is," I reply, forcing a honey-dripping smile on my lips. "You are cordially invited to my wedding."

A muscle tick at his jaw and his nostrils flare when his gaze catches the big rock on my finger. Then his eyelashes sweep up as he stares at me. The gold bursts in the middle of the green irises of his eyes burn bright. Apart from Astaroth and my brothers, he's got to be the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Like a fallen angel.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" he asks after an eternity of another staring contest.

I feel my spine stiffens. "Why is it a joke?" He might not want me, but is it really that impossible that someone else might want a half-demon like me enough to want to marry me? I know I'm sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, and fun, damn it!

His phone beeps but he ignores it. "Don't you think you're too young to get married?"

"Too young?" I scowl. What is it to him? "I'm eighteen! People get married at eighteen all the time," I throw at him. Naomi Walsh might not be that much older than I am.

"Eighteen?" He sits up. His thick eyebrows furrowed. "How is that possible? Dimitra told me you were fifteen over a year ago. In fact, Olivier..." he stops and his expression becomes contemplative.

"Clearly, she lied," I tell him. I lift my chin up proudly as I continue, "I was almost seventeen back then and I'm going to be nineteen in a few more months."

"So you're eighteen," he murmurs. I'm not sure if he's talking to me or to himself. He sits back in his chair in a relaxed pose with his hands steeple together as he contemplates this bit of information but I sense that he's anything but relaxed.

The satisfaction that I felt by telling him that I am now an adult is being replaced by alarm bells when his eyes smolder and his lips curl up into a predatory smile. I can't help but think that I just said the wrong thing.

"So, little Danica Saint isn't so little anymore," he drawls, and his voice is oh, so alluring. He lets his gaze leisurely wander down my body and the heat I see in his eyes ignites the fire in my stomach. The air seems to sizzle between us. The innocent crush or whatever feeling I had for him when I was sixteen is now a wild flame burning in my veins. It'll engulf me in its inferno if I'm not careful.

His phone beeps again but again, he ignores it. The way he's looking at me is making my knees weak that I wish I was sitting down.

A few seconds later, there's a brief knock on the door. A beautiful Nephilim woman with olive skin and jet black hair opens it and pokes her head in. "Sir, your conference call is ready for you."

"Reschedule it," he says curtly without taking his eyes off me.

"Uh...yes, sir." She hastily retreats and closes the door. I see that all his minions are well trained.

He gets off his chair with the grace of a panther and I straighten my back.

"Well then..." I say. "You seem rather busy. I have wedding dresses to try on and lunch to go to. If you'd just undo this bracelet, I'll be on my way."

Something flares in his eyes and he saunters toward me with the lithe movement of a predator. Everything in me is telling me to turn tail and run but my pride doesn't allow me to back down. So I stay my ground.

I'm not short but he's very tall, so I have to tilt my head back to meet his dark gaze. "No," he says. His tone harsh and decisive.

I blink. "Excuse me?"

His jaw tightens determinedly. "I said no."

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean no," he says, "You're not getting married..."

"The hell I'm not!" As far as I'm concerned, he has no right to tell me not to get married. Oh, right, I still owe him money. "I said in the note that I'll give your money back. Well, at least fifty percent of it. But it's still a lot of money and the bank needs time to clear..."

"I've paid to have you indefinitely. In full," he says, stepping closer. Then he reaches up and takes a lock of my hair between his fingers as though he couldn't help himself. His nose is almost touching the shell of my ear and I hear him taking a deep breath in.

His own scent engulfs me and he smells... so good. I'm dying to close my eyes and breathe him in.

Before I get carried away, I step back to get away from his addictive scent and touch. Unfortunately, that brings his fiery eyes within my focus and they're burning with something that looks like possessiveness.

His voice sounds husky when he says, "That means you're mine and it ends only when I say so. Until then, you belong to me. That also means no marrying Tony or anyone else."

"It's Nico," I correct him. "And I'm my own person, I don't belong to anyone." Only that's a lie. I belong to Astaroth. He owns my life and everything that I have and he'll take away everything, including my life... before I get the chance to grow old and wrinkly. "I'll marry whoever I want and no one can stop me."

"We'll see about that," he says harshly. His jaw clenches and his eyes are burning behind hooded lids."Tell me, how did Astaroth take it? You being engaged to be married to this Tony guy?" he asks, as though he knows where my mind has gone to. He spits out the word Tony as though it's a curse word.

"It's Nico," I correct him again. Why can't he get that right?

Normally, I have no problem bald face lying to anyone without an ounce of guilt or remorse. But his eyes are too intense, seeing too much. I look away before I answer him. "My father is ecstatic. He can't wait," I lie. Astaroth isn't totally on board with my plan to marry Nico even though Nico's grandfather, Asmodeus is his close ally. I have this uneasy feeling that he's playing a waiting game of some sort with me.

"I see," Sacha says. A calculative gleam briefly flashes in his eyes as he carefully watches me.

There's a brief knock on the door before it swings open and his right-hand man, Olivier rushes in. "I heard..." His eyes turn glacial when they land on me. "So it's true. Astaroth's little princess is here." His tone is jeering. Wow, this guy really doesn't like me. He turns his attention back to Sacha. "Can we talk? In private?"

It seems as though Sacha is about to ignore him until the man adds, "Please?"

Sacha pauses. His jaw moves and his eyes narrowed but he turns and walks out the door.

The door closes behind Olivier and I hear their footsteps receding down the hall. I extend my hearing as I hear another door opening and closing.

"What are you doing? I thought we agreed that she's trouble and you should stay away from her?" Olivier is asking.

"Why did you put in the report that she was fifteen over a year and a half ago?" This comes from Sacha.

"Marina did the report and why does it matter? She's a demon!"

"Half-demon," snaps Sacha.

"Okay, half-demon, but she shouldn't be here. She's ruining everything. You and her---"

"What I do with her is my business, Olivier." He sounds like he's grinding his teeth. "You knew the report was false yet you didn't tell me. I don't need my second in command to lie or manipulate me."

"But I didn't lie to you," says Olivier. "I found out about it a year later and I didn't think that it's important...wait, where are you going?"

I hear his footsteps leaving the room. "I'll deal with you and Marina later," growls Sacha.

"What about Naomi? You have a date with her this evening---"

I think I've heard enough. I walk out of his office, burning with rage.

He's standing in the hallway, watching me with those piercing eyes.

Try to stop me and I'll scream murder, I silently warn him with every aggressive line of my body and every step that I take.

This isn't over, he promises me with his burning gaze.

I didn't realize that I was holding my breath until I step outside his shiny building. I was expecting one of his goons to grab me and carry me back inside.

But of course, that didn't happen. Who am I kidding? I'm not important enough for him to be doing that. Now that I'm breathing in the polluted air of New York City, I'm sure I was imagining the warning look he was giving me.

My rage turns to amber, then everything turns hollow. Why am I feeling this emptiness and a deep ache in my heart?

Must be hunger. That's it. Time for lunch with Juniper and my future mother-in-law. Then I'm off to try wedding dresses. Lots and lots of wedding dresses. Yeah.

The hollowness and the ache intensify as I drag my feet toward the car that's waiting.

************************************************

Hey ya, dear readers!

My next update is going to be on Tuesday evening (est). If you want to read three chapters ahead, go to:

https://Inkitt.app.link/RA_NicoleRidd3y

Have a wonderful weekend and pls stay safe!

Much love,

Nicole♥