Khaterine, who did not know the devil in front of her, somehow felt a different kind of familiarity with him.
The dinner went smoothly, but Khaterine felt like walking on thin needles.
The long dining table adorned with golden plates and crystal goblets felt too extravagant, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows that danced across the obsidian walls.
The man's piercing crimson eyes never left her, sending chills down her spine despite his charming smile.
Every time she lifted her fork, she felt his gaze trace her every movement. The clinking of silverware echoed in the vast hall, making her feel even more isolated in his presence.
Just when she thought the night was over, the man suddenly closed the gap between them, rising from his chair without a sound.
His midnight-black robe fluttered as if carried by an invisible breeze. Before she could react, he gently but firmly pulled her towards his arms.
