Evening arrived with its usual sense of monotony. I stood in my walk-in closet, buttoning the cuffs of my tailored black suit. The mirror reflected the image everyone else saw-the polished and powerful ruler of a business empire. Yet, as I adjusted my cufflinks, my thoughts were consumed by the events of last night, something that hadn't happened in years.
The nightmares had become my constant companion, haunting me night after night for as long as I could remember. They were always the same: a dark room, my so-called family members surrounding me, their cruel laughter echoing as they beat me into submission. No matter how much time passed, the memories clung to me like a shadow, refusing to let go. But last night... last night was different.
The nightmare had started the same way, the darkness swallowing me whole, their voices tearing into my soul. Then, as if someone had pressed pause on a video, everything stopped. The laughter faded, the blows ceased, and silence descended.
Then I heard it.
A voice-melodious, soothing, and unfamiliar-called my name. It wasn't the mocking tone of my family or the venomous words I had grown accustomed to. No, this voice was... different. It wrapped around me like a protective shield, banishing the nightmare. The darkness dissipated, and for the first time in years, I slept. Truly slept.
Now, as I glanced at my watch, the memory of that voice lingered in my mind like an unanswered question. But there was no time to dwell on it. I had an award function to attend-a necessary inconvenience.
When I stepped outside, the cool evening air greeted me, along with the sight of ten sleek black cars waiting in formation. Being who I was came with its perks, even if most of them bored me. My security team stood at attention, their presence both intimidating and unnecessary. I slid into the backseat of the lead car, the scent of leather and sophistication filling the enclosed space.
As the convoy began to move, I flipped open a tablet and started skimming through reports. The award function was nothing more than a formality. I already knew I'd win; I always did. The media and society loved their narratives, and I played the role of the invincible tycoon perfectly.
Still, maintaining appearances was important. My legal business empire was just as powerful as my underground dealings, and nights like these ensured that the world saw me as the untouchable ruler of industry. It was a game I'd mastered, even if it bored me to no end.
The venue was as extravagant as ever. Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the sprawling hall, the walls adorned with ornate decorations meant to impress. Paparazzi swarmed outside, their cameras flashing incessantly as I stepped out of the car. They shouted my name, desperate for a soundbite or a glance in their direction. I ignored them, adjusting my suit as I walked toward the entrance.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations hushed, heads turned, and the once lively party fell silent. The weight of my presence settled over the room like a heavy fog, and I relished the way their fear clung to the air. Power was intoxicating, and I had more than enough of it.
Picking up a glass of whiskey from a passing waiter, I leaned against a column, watching the event unfold. The night played out as predictably as ever. Ministers, businessmen, and socialites hovered around me, their attempts at flattery painfully transparent.
One businessman, a balding man in an ill-fitting suit, approached with a forced smile plastered across his face. "Mr. Di Carlo, it's an honor to meet you. I've been following your work for years-truly inspiring."
I arched an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch until he began to fidget. "Is that so?" I said finally, my tone cold and disinterested. "And which aspect of my work do you find so inspiring?"
His confidence faltered, and he stammered out a half-baked answer about "vision and leadership." I waved him off before he could finish, turning my attention back to my drink.
The women, as expected, were even worse. Actresses, models, and socialites draped themselves in designer gowns, their eyes filled with calculated hunger as they made their approaches. One woman, a tall brunette with not so striking features, sidled up to me, her fake red lips curving into a sultry smile.
"Mr. Lucifer," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. "I've heard so much about you. I thought it was time we got acquainted."
I took a slow sip of my whiskey, letting my eyes sweep over her. Then I leaned in just enough for her to hear me clearly. "I don't waste my time on women who think flattery is a currency I accept."
Her confident demeanor cracked, and she quickly retreated, her face burning with embarrassment.
Another woman, a blonde wearing a gown that left little to the imagination, tried her luck next. She placed a manicured hand on my arm, her touch unwelcome and invasive.
"mr. Salvatore," she began, her tone playful, "you really should loosen up. Life's too short to be so serious all the time."
I turned to her, my expression devoid of amusement. "And you really should learn when to keep your hands to yourself. Or you want me to cut it off to make you understand ? "
Her smile faltered, and she stepped back, muttering an apology before disappearing into the crowd.
I shook my head, letting out a quiet sigh. This was why I avoided relationships. Emotions were a liability, a weakness I couldn't afford. The idea of becoming a "lovesick puppy," as some called it, was laughable.
The event dragged on, each passing moment testing my patience. I had no interest in their empty words or their shallow attempts to gain my favor. All I wanted was to collect the award and leave, returning to the solitude that had become my sanctuary.
But even as I stood there, surrounded by luxury and adoration, my mind drifted back to that voice from last night. Who-or what-had it been? And why had it left me feeling... calm?
I finished my drink, and prepared to endure the rest of the night. Whatever answers awaited me, they would have to wait. Tonight, I played the part of Lucifer-the untouchable king of two worlds. But somewhere, deep inside, a storm was brewing, and I had a feeling it would be impossible to ignore for long.
The slow, monotonous music that had droned on for what felt like hours finally ceased. The air buzzed with anticipation as the host stepped up to the microphone, ready to announce the winners. One by one, the minor awards were handed out-names I neither recognized nor cared about. My focus remained on my glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid idly. I waited for the inevitable-the announcement of my name for the coveted "Best Businessman of the Year" award.
When the time came, I barely paid attention. I was already preparing to make my way to the stage, my face set in its usual mask of indifference. The host's voice rang out:
"And the award for Best Businessman of the Year goes to..."
The pause before the name was customary, but what followed wasn't.
"Amara Ashford."
The glass in my hand stopped mid-swish. The name echoed through the hall like a thunderclap, jolting me into stillness. The murmurs in the crowd were immediate, a mixture of shock and confusion. Even I couldn't mask my surprise, though I remained outwardly composed.
Who was Amara Ashford?
No one in the industry had mentioned her before. How had someone risen to such prominence, enough to steal the spotlight from me? My mind raced as I kept my expression impassive, but the curiosity burned like a low flame.
The lights dimmed, then shifted, focusing on the grand staircase at the entrance of the hall. All heads turned, mine included. And there she was.
She stood at the top of the staircase, bathed in the golden light. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
Amara Ashford.
She wasn't just beautiful-she was regal. Confidence radiated from her in waves, her mere presence commanding the room's attention. Her aura was sharp, cold, and powerful, enough to make even the boldest men in the room shiver. She wore a red off-shoulder gown that hugged her figure perfectly, a slit running daringly high on her leg. The color suited her, as if it had been made to complement her fiery essence. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, and her dark brown eyes seemed to pierce through anyone who dared look her way.
She wasn't overly adorned like the others at this event. No excessive jewelry, no layers of makeup. Yet, she glowed-like the full moon on the darkest night, untouchable and ethereal.
As she descended the stairs, the crowd parted, their admiration palpable. The whispers around me grew louder, filled with awe and disbelief. I barely registered them. My focus was entirely on her.
Who was this woman?
More importantly, how had I never encountered her before?
She reached the stage with grace that could only be described as queenly. Each step she took exuded control, power, and a quiet ferocity that matched my own. I watched her closely, taking a sip of my whiskey to mask my intrigue.
The host handed her the award, and she accepted it with a poised smile, thanking him briefly. Then she stepped up to the microphone. My interest piqued. I leaned against a nearby pillar, my glass still in hand, waiting to hear her voice.
She began to speak, her tone soft yet firm, with an edge of subtle dominance.
"I'm truly honored to receive this award," she said, her voice melodic and clear. "It's not just a testament to my work, but also a reminder that the business world always has room for... surprises and a little bit chaos ."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, her gaze flicking across the room before briefly settling on me.
"After all," she continued, her tone turning wry, "isn't it more exciting when the unexpected happens? Keeps everyone on their toes, doesn't it?"
The crowd chuckled politely, but I didn't miss the underlying sarcasm aimed squarely in my direction. A slow smirk spread across my face as I leaned back against the pillar.
Feisty and sharp-tongued. "My moon" has claws.
She finished her speech with a graceful bow of her head. The applause was thunderous, a standing ovation from most of the room. I clapped as well, not out of obligation, but out of genuine admiration. Her eyes flicked to mine once more, locking onto me for the briefest of moments.
It was as if the room faded away, leaving only the two of us.
When she finally stepped down from the stage, my gaze followed her as she moved through the crowd. She made her way to the far end of the hall, where a tall man with a smug demeanor was waiting. They exchanged a few words, their conversation casual, but I couldn't help the way my jaw tightened.
Who was he?
Why did his presence irritate me?
I didn't know this woman, yet the sight of her with another man set a fire in my chest I couldn't explain. There was something about her that drew me in, something I couldn't ignore. She was a mystery-a queen who had entered my world without warning.
And queens, I had learned, always played the most dangerous games.
For now, I remained where I was, observing. But one thing was certain-I wasn't letting her slip away without answers.
After delivering my speech-complete with a well-placed sarcastic jab at him-I descended the stage, the award in hand. Enzo was waiting for me near the bar, his expression calm yet amused, as if he had anticipated my little stunt. When I approached, he handed me a drink, his subtle smirk betraying his amusement.
"Nicely done," I said, swirling the drink as I glanced around the room. The crowd was still buzzing about the upset win.
Enzo gave a dramatic little bow, and I glared at him playfully. "Stop being ridiculous."
He straightened with a cheeky grin. "Well, boss, I have to say-you really nailed it this time. The setup was perfect, and pulling off something this grand in such a short time was nothing short of a miracle."
I took a sip from my glass, watching him with narrowed eyes. "You actually managed to bring this together with real humans, real buildings, and real support. I'm impressed."
He puffed out his chest in mock pride. "It wasn't easy, you know. I think I deserve a reward, don't you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of reward are we talking about, Enzo?"
He clasped his hands together like a child pleading for candy. "Can I go back to Hell now?"
I rolled my eyes. "Why, Enzo? Feeling threatened because humans are paying more attention to us ?"
He laughed nervously. "Let's just say I'm not entirely comfortable with the way someone was looking at me ."
I chuckled and shook my head. "Did you check on him?"
Enzo's smile faded, and he closed his eyes. For a moment, his energy shifted, and I knew he was sensing the room, searching for the emotional turbulence I'd expected from Lucifer Salvatore. After a minute, he opened his eyes, his expression unreadable.
"Well?" I pressed.
"I didn't sense any pain from him," he admitted.
I frowned slightly, masking my reaction as I glanced casually around the room. My eyes found him almost immediately-Lucifer, standing near a pillar, glass in hand, his gaze locked firmly on me.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink.
He didn't look away.
Instead, he raised his glass slightly, gesturing toward the trophy in my hand before miming a slow clap. The gesture was equal parts mocking and congratulatory.
I tilted my head, smiled sweetly, and flicked my hair with just enough sass to make a point. His lips quirked into a smirk, and he mimed fanning himself as though my response had made him feel hot under the collar.
I blinked. Was he actually flirting with me?
Lucifer set his glass down, glanced at me once more, and turned toward the main corridor. Without a word, he disappeared into the shadows.
I turned to Enzo, my lips pressed into a thin line. "Manage the party," I said curtly.
He gave me a quick nod and immediately began engaging with the guests, slipping seamlessly into his role as my assistant. I, however, had other plans.
Pretending I needed a little air, I left the hall and followed the direction Lucifer had taken.
---
The corridor was dimly lit, the hum of the party muffled behind me. As I walked, I couldn't shake the question gnawing at my mind: why didn't he react the way I expected? There was no anger, no heartbreak, no humiliation. He seemed... calm. Almost amused.
I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice him at first. When I did, my steps faltered.
He was leaning casually against a pillar, his posture relaxed but calculated, like a predator lying in wait. His piercing eyes were locked on me, and a small, knowing smile played on his lips. He had been waiting for me.
I straightened my shoulders and kept walking, determined not to let him rattle me. As I passed, his deep, velvety voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Congratulations on the award, Ms. Ashford."
I turned slowly, fixing him with a polite smile. "Thank you."
He stepped forward, his movements smooth and deliberate. "It's always exciting to witness surprises. Don't you think?"
Ah, so he had caught my little dig earlier. I smirked. "Yes, surprises can create quite the... chaos, Mr.-"
I paused deliberately, feigning ignorance, though I knew very well who he was.
"Lucifer Salvatore di Carlo," he finished, extending his hand.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing my hand in his. His grip was firm but gentle, his skin warm against mine. Yet he didn't let go immediately.
"And you are?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you hear when the award was announced?"
Instead of being annoyed by my sass, he chuckled softly, a sound that sent a strange ripple through me. "Touché," he said.
His smile widened slightly, and there was something unsettling about it-unsettling because it wasn't threatening. It was warm, amused, almost... admiring.
"So, Ms. Amara Ashford," he continued, his tone light yet charged with meaning, "I have to say, your personality is... refreshingly different. Not what I expected."
I tilted my head, my lips curving into a smirk. "You don't seem like someone who's easily surprised."
"I'm not," he admitted, his eyes never leaving mine. "But you? You're something else entirely."
The intensity of his gaze was almost suffocating, but I refused to break eye contact. If he thought he could rattle me, he was sorely mistaken.
"Well," I said, pulling my hand back gently, "I'm glad I could... entertain you."
"You did more than that," he replied, his voice dropping slightly.
I took a step back, maintaining my composure. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, Mr. Salvatore."
He inclined his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken promises.
As I turned and walked away, I could feel his gaze burning into my back.
And for reasons I couldn't quite understand, I was getting Angry just because my heart was racing .