Chapter 10 —Demyon
The girl was stubborn—intriguing, but stubborn. Even though part of me disliked how she spoke to me without an ounce of fear or reverence, another part of me still loved her fearlessness.
On the jet yesterday, she’d accused me of being lonely, which was the reason I preferred having her around. As annoying as that was, it was the truth. I wasn’t sure what pissed me off the most: the truth or the fact that she could read me like an open book.
One of my biggest weapons in this game was my ability to stay neutral at all times.
I always believed that I was a hard man to read, that my blank expression made it next to impossible for anyone to predict me, or my next move.
It wasn’t just my belief, actually; it was a fact to most people. Especially my enemies.
But not to this crazy little devil.
She understood me without breaking a sweat.
Or maybe it was just a lucky guess—nothing serious. There was that. And there was also the possibility that my suspicion was true. If this crazy little devil could somehow truly read through my blank expressions, then there was a problem.
It would mean she was now a threat to my very existence, and that made her fucking dangerous. The problem was, I loved danger—the thrill, the rush of adrenaline, and everything else that often came with it. To me, the more dangerous something was, the more drawn I was to it.
Those who knew me knew that I loved playing with fire, and I had never once gotten burned. In this case, though, my crazy little devil was the one playing with fire, and I couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t get burned.
It had been a little over twenty-four hours since we arrived in St. Petersburg, and I still hadn’t told her why she was here. In her mind, of course, she already believed she was here for my entertainment.
Yeah. Right.
I sat on a sofa in her room, my legs crossed, my fingers absently grazing each other.
I sat there under the dim light, silent as the night, watching the sun set outside the window.
The sound of running water in the bathroom suddenly stopped, hinting that she’d just finished showering.
I didn’t move, didn’t shift my weight—I just sat there, waiting.
The bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, a white towel wrapped around her body.
Steam curled around her slick skin, her wet hair clinging to her face as she ran her fingers through the tangled strands. The hem of the towel grazed her thighs, somewhere above her knees. Not too much, but enough to reveal a lighter shade of her skin.
The sight of her alluring legs made my heart skip a beat, and something unfamiliar stirred up inside me. I leaned back on the sofa, drinking in her beauty and the work of art she called a body.
She was quietly singing a song I’d heard one too many times on the streets of Chicago in recent times.
“All that time
I sat alone in my tower
You were just honing your powers
Now I can see it all (see it all)….”
A faint smirk played at the corners of my lips as I listened to the sound of her melodic voice.
She continued, this time subtly shifting her body.
“Keep it one hundred
On the land, the sea, the sky
Pledge allegiance to your hands
Your team, your vibes…”
My brows rose when her dancing became more apparent. Simple yet classy.
“...Don’t care where the hell you been
‘Cause now you’re mine
It’s ‘bout to be the sleepless night
You’ve been dreaming of
The fate of Ophelia….”
The second her voice trailed off, I chipped in, startling her.
“Someone’s in a good mood.”
“Jesus Christ!” She leaped in fear, her hands flying to her chest as if to shield her breasts from me. “Where’d you come from? Don’t you know how to knock?!” The words rushed out in a frantic rush. “How long have you been sitting there?”
I hesitated, captivated by her beauty, even in shock. “Which one should I answer first?” I asked, teasing her about how she hit me with three questions at once.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, then adjusted the folds of her towel, securing them. “You know, it’s creepy sneaking up on people like that.”
“It’s not if it’s your own house.”
“Of course you’d say that,” she mumbled under her breath and then walked toward her vanity. “I hope you were entertained.” The sarcasm in her tone couldn’t be more glaring.
“It was…quite the show.”
She lifted her head and met my gaze in the mirror in front of her. “What do you want?”
“What makes you think I want something?”
“I’m sure there aren’t fewer than thirty rooms in this mansion,” she answered, her voice flat. “Yet of all the rooms you could’ve skulked around in, you chose mine.”
“I have an event to attend this evening.” I rose to my feet, fingers toiling with my cufflinks. “And you’re coming with me.”
She raised her brows, then turned around to face me. “I don’t like your tone.”
“Do I look like I give a shit?”
“No, actually,” she answered. “Monsters usually don’t.”
Monster? I’d been called worse before.
I scoffed and approached her with quiet, menacing steps, my eyes boring into hers. She stared back at me, her arms folded across her chest. The scent of shampoo and conditioner drifted into my nostrils as I stood inches away from her, one hand buried in my pocket.
“Am I going as your plus-one?” she asked. “Or as your prisoner?”
My eyes roamed her body while I kept a blank expression. I hated how my cock twitched in my pants, as if it had a mind of its own. At this point, I could only hope she didn’t see through my mask; it would be embarrassing.
Staring at her gorgeous, sexy body was a subtle form of torture I wasn’t ready for.
“Be ready in two hours,” I said, my voice cold and flat.
With that, I turned around and walked away, my pride and dignity still intact. She protested as I headed toward the door, ranting about how much she hated my arrogance and lack of respect. I paid no attention to her, even when she blurted out that she had nothing to wear to the event.
I’d already made arrangements for that, and in due time, she’d receive my package.
***
Two hours later, I stood in the downstairs living room in a black trench coat, a black hat, and a pair of black gloves. I was already running late for this event, and there was still no sign of her.
I glanced at my watch, wondering what was taking her so long—not because I was worried about showing up late to the event, but because I was eager to see her all dolled up in the dress I’d had delivered to her room.
I checked my watch one last time, telling myself that if she wasn’t down in the next five minutes, I’d go up to her room to see for myself. That thought hadn’t settled when a sweet fragrance, a mix of lavender and fresh flowers, filled the room.
My breath hitched when I raised my head toward the curved staircase and saw her descending like an angel. Her chestnut-brown hair, which often fell in waves to her mid-back, was styled in a neat bun this evening.
She wore light makeup that blended with her porcelain skin—natural yet elegant. The pearls around her neck glinted in the soft light, and her bright, stormy blues sparkled with something I had yet to name.
A long furry coat made from expensive fabric draped effortlessly over the blue gown that hugged her body like a second skin. She walked down the stairs like a beauty queen—slow and majestic—her manicured fingers trailing along the polished railing.
As she moved, the long slit that traveled up one side of her dress revealed glimpses of her thighs. While caressing the railing with one hand, she clutched a designer purse with the other.
Her beauty thawed something frozen inside me, and for a moment I was mesmerized. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she walked toward me with quiet elegance.
“You’re late,” I said, keeping a straight face.
“You clearly haven’t lived with a woman before,” she answered, her usual sass lacing her tone.
I couldn’t help tracing the gentle curve of her lips, painted a bold shade of red. They looked so enticing, and the thoughts of claiming them as mine came flooding into my mind.
“Just for tonight,” I said, distracting myself from her alluring beauty. “Behave.”
A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Is that a command…or a request?”
My gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before I turned around and headed toward the door without a word.
***
We arrived at the event about thirty minutes after leaving the mansion. The hall was filled with the elites of society, all dressed in their finest. The soft hum of conversations drifted through the air as the guests gathered in small groups, talking in Russian and laughing.
Candlelight flickered across the fine marble floor, matching the warm glow of the hanging chandeliers. Waiters in their black-and-white attire moved through the crowd, trays of champagne and canapés balanced on their hands.
Somewhere in a corner, a man in a black suit was playing a grand piano. As his fingers worked their magic on the keyboard, his powerful voice filled the space.
He threw his head back, pitching a high note that stunned the crowd. A collective gasp rose from amongst them as they watched him in awe. The man stole the show, playing so well that he impressed everyone in the hall, including myself.
After his performance ended, the crowd erupted into a light round of applause.
“Wow! That was wicked—spectacular!” my plus-one said to herself, jamming her hands together. “Now, that’s how you steal a show.” She glanced at me and nudged her shoulder against mine. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’ve seen better. Heard better,” I replied, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray.
“Right. That’s why you couldn’t even pretend to be impressed—to support the young man at least.” She reached out and helped herself with a glass as well.
“I don’t pretend.” I took a sip, eyes discreetly sweeping the surroundings out of habit. “The music was good. But I’ve heard better. Period.”