Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
A MATCH MADE IN MIDNIGHT
Poe
“I don’t want a happy ending—I want our ending, no matter how twisted.” - P
T he moment we crossed the threshold of the manor, Azariel led me through long, quiet hallways, where the only sound was the soft echo of our footsteps against marble floors, muffled by thick, faded red rugs.
Old paintings lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow us as we moved.
Eventually, we reached a door. Heavy. Dark wood. A brass handle, aged to a soft tarnish.
He opened it for me and stepped aside.
“It’s been a long day,” he said, his voice lower now. Rougher. Tired, maybe. Or something else entirely. “You should rest.”
I turned to face him, lips parting to speak—but I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. Thank you? Don’t go? Stay?
But nothing came out.
So I simply nodded. “Okay.”
He studied me for a moment longer—his eyes lingering in that maddening, unreadable way of his, like he was trying to memorize every part of me. Then he pushed off the frame and turned, melting into the hallway’s darkness like he belonged to it.
“Goodnight, Poe.”
Just like that, he was gone—leaving me standing alone in the warm silence of a place that already felt more like home than anywhere I’d ever been.
I stood there for a breath, maybe two, feeling the silence settle around me. And when I stepped into the room, I felt like I’d walked into a dream or maybe a gothic dark novel. I wasn’t sure which one, but I had a feeling it was one where I was the unsuspecting heroine, and Azariel was the mysterious, brooding villain who kept me on my toes.
The room was everything I didn’t know I needed. The walls were a deep burgundy, rich and bold with an air of elegance. The four-poster bed was enormous, the kind that could fit a dozen people with black satin sheets. Dark wood furniture gave the room a classic, timeless feel, yet it still managed to look sleek and modern. The marble floors gleamed, almost like a mirror.
Shelves lined the walls, stacked with books—each one carefully chosen, as if they held secrets waiting to be discovered.
And then, there was the view. The bay windows opened up to a rose garden, the flowers still blooming under the moonlight. The soft glow from the moon made everything look magical. I stood there for a while, taking it all in, not sure how to describe the feeling—maybe just awe. It was peaceful, calm, like this place was meant for me.
I took a deep breath, trying to take in the overwhelming beauty of the space. This is insane, I thought. I never, in a million years, would’ve imagined ending up here—at a place like this, with Azariel. It didn’t seem like him at all. And yet, here we were.
Being here felt like stepping into another realm, one that made me want to stay forever.
Which was dangerous.
I was pulled from my thoughts by a soft little meow.
Prince.
I turned to see my cat perched on a chair by the window, his almost-white eyes glinting in the dim light. He looked as dignified as ever, his fluffy tail swishing back and forth as if he approved of the manor and liked it more than our cozy little apartment.
“Feels like home to you too, huh, furry demon?” I muttered, sitting down on the bed and patting the space next to me. “I mean, look at this room. It’s like something out of a modern vampire movie. Did your room in hell look like this one too?”
Prince blinked lazily at me, as if he were above my insults wrapped in sarcastic conversation. But then he hopped onto the bed, circling me as though he were a tiny, furry king claiming his domain. When he curled up beside me, I stroked his soft fur. I do love my cat—dearly. And I truly believe he loves me too, deep, deep down. If he didn’t care for me at least a little, he would’ve found a way to murder me in my sleep by now.
“You know,” I continued, my voice quieter now as I let my thoughts slip out. “Azariel... I don’t understand him. He’s all icy and impossible to figure out. But then he does things like... this. Things like today. And it’s like he’s not even the same person. I don’t know what’s happening. What do you think?”
Prince responded with a single, disinterested meow. He stretched out beside me, curling into a perfect ball and closing his eyes. Of course, he couldn’t care less.
I sighed, leaning back against the soft pillows. “This feels like I’m dreaming it all…”
Prince shot me a quick, dismissive glance, as if silently judging me. I rolled my eyes when he turned away. Then, fed up with his bitchiness, I got up from the bed, walked to the window, and sat down.
A storm was coming.
Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the large garden below. Soon after, rain began to fall. The sound was calming—its steady rhythm pulling me into a trance as I stared out the window. There was something about thunderstorms I absolutely loved. Maybe it was the raw, dangerous energy or maybe it was the way the sky looked when it raged: beautiful and terrifying all at once. Just like Azariel.
But as I sat there, watching the storm and listening to the howling wind, I felt a sudden urge to see more. I knew sleep wouldn’t come, even though I was exhausted from the day.
Snooping around Azariel’s home probably wasn’t the most moral thing to do as a guest, but it wasn’t like he had told me not to. And this place… it was magnificent. I knew there had to be more to it than what he’d shown me so far.
Do it…
With a quiet sigh, I stood up and glanced at Prince. He was already fast asleep. Good. He needed his beauty sleep—otherwise, he’d be even more of an asshole tomorrow. And nobody wanted to deal with that.
I crept out of the room, not knowing where I was going or what I was even looking for—maybe something that would reveal what was on Azariel’s mind... and maybe his heart. I needed clues. Anything to help me understand how this place fits into the story. Into our story.
But what I found was something I never could have anticipated.
I rounded a corner and came face-to-face with an enormous, arched black wooden door. Intrigued, I pushed it open—only to find a room that took my breath away.
A library. But not just a library.
It was massively larger than any library I’d ever seen. The high ceilings were lined with dark wooden beams, and the shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, covering every inch of the room. Each one was filled with thick, heavy volumes that looked brand new.
There was something about this room that felt like it was calling out to me.
It was beautiful, gothic, and timeless... just like the rest of the manor.
Wanting to see more of it, I stepped inside, my heart racing as I took in the sight of it all. The room was a perfect blend of old-world charm and quiet and modern majesty. The walls were lined with black bookshelves, stacked with rows of books that seemed to go on forever. The air smelled like dust and leather, mixed with the faintest hint of vanilla.
I loved vanilla and the smell of old books.
As I wandered deeper into the library, I couldn’t help but run my fingers along the spines of the books, each one more intriguing than the last. The sheer volume of them made me giddy. This was a room meant for someone who loved books—someone who loved stories—and for a moment, I forgot where I was. I was just... me, surrounded by words.
And then, I stopped.
At first, I didn’t believe what I was seeing. My eyes scanned the shelves in disbelief, and then I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. There, on every shelf, were copies of my books. All of them. The books I’d published independently and the ones that Azariel published for me under his publishing house.
My chest aches and my eyes turned liquid as I touched the stories I had thought they’d buried under the weight of my insecurities and self-doubt.
But there they were. Not just one or two copies. No, there were dozens of them. Each one of my books—every single manuscript I had poured my heart and soul into—lined the shelves of Azariel’s library in perfect rows.
But it wasn’t just that. There was another book, a familiar one, nestled among the sea of my novels. I pulled it out, my fingers trembling as I read the title: The Little Prince .
I could feel my heart skip many beats as I traced the edges of the cover. This was the book I used to read to him when we were younger. The one that, for some strange reason, always seemed to make him soft for only a moment. The one I thought I’d left behind, never to be read again because it hurt too much.
But here it was.
Why? What? I leaned closer trying to make sense of this all but ended up feeling like it was a puzzle I’ve yet to finish.
My chest felt tight and I felt like I was having a heart attack. The weight of everything that has happened today, of how much had changed in the matter of hours, hit me all at once.
Azariel, the man who hadn’t shown a single ounce of softness since the night he ripped my tiny heart in two, had somehow made sure my books and our favorite book were here. In his library.
But why? I could hardly wrap my head around it. What did this all mean? Why were my books here? Why was my copy of the Little Prince here? Had he kept it all this time? Then I looked at my books, the ones I’ve written. And then, another thought crept in. Had he read them? My books?
I looked around the room, my mind racing, but nothing seemed to make sense. How had he known? Why had he done this? The questions kept coming but I couldn’t come up with any logical answer.
But as I stood there, holding my favorite book in my hands, I came to the realization that there is definitely more to him that he showed the world.
And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to understand him in ways I never could have imagined.
I swallowed hard, trying to push back the emotions that threatened to spill over. I set the book back on the shelf, my fingers lingering for a moment on the pretty cover, as if I were letting go of something I hadn’t realized I was holding on to.
When I turned to leave, my heart was full. Not just of questions, but of a quiet understanding. He had shown me a side of himself that I couldn’t have predicted. And suddenly, the distance between us seemed a little smaller.
I didn’t know where this was going. But for the first time in weeks, I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be a story I’d ever expected to tell. This was raw and real. This was… us.
With a quiet exhale, I forced myself to pull away from the shelf, my heart pounding with awe. I didn’t know a lot right now but one thing I was sure of was that I couldn’t just stand there, letting the questions consume my every thought without finding answers. The girl who once thought the world of Azariel came to the surface, wanting— no, needing to solve the mystery that is the heartless prince. That girl needed to understand more about him. What side of Azariel was this?
The library, with all its dark, quiet magic, held too many answers but I also knew there had to be more. This manor held the answers to all my questions. Of that I was absolutely certain of.
With my heart beating up a storm like the one that was happening outside, I turned on my heel, stepping out of the library and into the shadows of Azariel’s home once again.
The atmosphere seemed even quieter now, the storm outside muting the world, leaving only the soft sounds of my footsteps against the marble floors. Each hallway I passed seemed to twist and turn, leading deeper into the heart of this place.
With the library still heavy on my mind, I wandered further, trying not to make too much noise. Every corner I turned, the mansion revealed a little more of its character. The air felt sweet now, in a way I couldn’t explain, and in a way no one would expect a manor that looked like this one to feel.
I took in everything around me and the feeling of awe in my chest only intensified.
Then, I paused in front of a grand staircase, its sleek marble steps rising up to the second floor. The banister was intricately carved, giving the space a regal feel, though the shadows and dim light made it look haunting.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced down the hallway. A long corridor stretched ahead, black doors lining both sides, each one seemingly identical to the next. But one door, further down, caught my attention. It was slightly ajar, the faintest light spilling out from the crack.
A sense of unease crept up my spine, but I couldn’t ignore the pull to find out what was waiting behind that door. I moved cautiously toward it, my pulse quickening with each step. I tapped my chest repeatedly trying to control my heartbeat but it did nothing.
Once I was in front of the door, I pushed it open slowly, peering into the room. The first thing I noticed was the smell of old leather and faint traces of cigarettes. It smelled like him.
The room was furnished with antiques, but it wasn’t like the rest of the manor. This place felt... different. It felt personal.
A large, black desk sat in the center of the room with two large screens on it. Of course. He’s a big tech nerd.
I took in the walls next and noticed how they were adorned with framed photographs—photographs I didn’t expect to see.
There, in these pictures, he wasn’t the icy, untouchable billionaire. He was the young boy I once knew. In some, he was with Uncle Vitali and Aunt Kadra, a soft smile on his face, his eyes a little warmer than I’d ever seen them. In others, he was with his little sister, Raiza, sitting in his mother’s rose garden, a book in his hands, looking peaceful, even content.
I was drawn to the photographs like a moth to a flame. They painted a different picture of him—one deep down I knew existed but I’d never seen. I wondered how much of that Azariel was still left inside him.
I reached out to one of the photos, my fingers grazing the glass frame. I traced his face in all of them. How… beautiful. His smile.
My fingers grazed the glass of the frame when the door suddenly creaked behind me. I froze.
My heart skipped.
Busted.
I turned around quickly, my breath catching in my throat. The door to the study was still open, but now there was a faint noise coming from further down the hall. Footsteps. Quiet, deliberate, as though someone was coming this way. Shit.
Without thinking, I hurried to step back from the wall, my heart racing.
He couldn’t catch me snooping in here.
With that in mind, I darted for the door, but as I did, I caught one last glance at the pictures, my mind buzzing with questions but most of all with the need to experience one of those smiles from him.
I closed the door as quietly as I could and hurried back down the hallway, my steps light but rushed. As I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced back toward the door I’d just exited, but the sound of approaching footsteps was getting louder. It had to be him. I hadn’t seen anyone here but us.
If he caught me I don’t know what I would say. My heart would take over my mouth and that was dangerous.
So, I descended the stairs quickly, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed. My mind raced, the urge to understand Azariel’s heart only intensifying with each unanswered question and with each sweet moment we shared.
Once inside the room, I locked the door behind me. I knew he would let me be but yet I didn’t trust myself to go look for him in the dark. I had a bad record of doing that.
Yeah, maybe I didn’t know all there was to know about Azariel like I thought I did. But, I knew one thing for sure and that was that in this magical and lonely place I would find out more than I ever expected about my dark and beautiful prince.