Chapter 2

Jax

“Stay close,” my father murmured. “Keep your head high.”

I nodded, fingers brushing the smooth fabric of my red dress. It was a V-neck type, elegant and sexy.

It was my first choice for this gathering… a dress that announces me without having to say a word.

From the moment we stepped inside, I knew I was in something deep. The air was different, every decor had a sharp precision like it were glorifying him.

The gold chandeliers, crystal glasses, silk gowns swirling around the room… all of it felt polished but beneath the elegance, I could feel the weight of hidden knives, whispered betrayals, and power plays happening behind every champagne toast.

This wasn’t a party. 

For them, this was a celebration. For me, it was a funeral.

I have just given myself willingly to the Devil Incarnate. 

My dress suddenly became suffocating. Layers of imported lace clung to my skin, delicate yet constricting, like the golden cage I had been forced into. 

I walked in beside my father, Martinez DeLuca, his grip firm on my arm. His presence alone commanded respect, forcing the crowd to part as we entered the main hall. 

I kept my head high, my expression neutral, but I was careful—watching and listening.

But then, the crowd shifted. And there he was.

My first reaction was to blurt ‘Wow’

Charles Wade was the exact opposite of the description online. 

The blogs described him as a grey-haired man in his sixties who dines with the devil. Three things I picked from the descriptions are grey hair, scars, and slender.

None of it was true. 

Firstly, this man cannot be over thirty-five. His shoulders are broad enough to form a platform to lie on. Not just any, but sharp to precision. 

His eyes are sharp as ice, and untouchable. Everything about this man speaks a type of appeal I have only seen in the movies. 

My stomach tightened with butterflies but I swallowed it back. 

I can't let it show that I’m gobsmacked; it's only going to make everyone think I know nothing. 

Suddenly, father and I stopped in front of him. 

Father never bows to anyone, but his head moved in a respectful bow to Charles. 

Who the hell does this man think he is?

His gaze locked onto me like a predator spotting prey. His expression, unreadable.

I clenched my jaw. He doesn't expect me to bow, does he?

“Is she the one?” Charles asked and father nodded. “Jaxen DeLuca.”

“Leave us.”

Leave us?

“No. My Father will be right here to hear whatever it is you want to say. Right, Father?”

“Jax.” My father’s voice came out in such a whisper that it was difficult to understand what was really happening. 

He took the nearest exit, leaving Charles and me in the corner. 

“Look, I don't know what's going on with you but you need to stop acting like you're God.”

His jaw clenched and I watched the way his jaw sharpened. “I am not God, little girl. Call me the Devil.”

A man who wholeheartedly accepts the title of a devil? 

His presence, his voice—everything about him was surprising to me. I grew up hearing his name whispered like a curse. Ruthless. Arrogant and Unpredictable. 

“Do you know why you're here?” he asked, with a stern voice. 

“Yes, to take my sister's place but if you don't mind, I'd like to have a rethink.”

He laughed. 

“Did I say something funny?”

“You're funny, little girl.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said in disgust. “Did anyone tell you they'd be bringing a little girl here? I'm twenty-two.”

“Makes it even worse.”

He stepped closer, his cologne—dark spice and danger curling around me. “I don't like people who talk too much. They make me want to dispose of them.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“You're now mine,” he finished. “And not even God can save you from me.”

He walked away, leaving me behind. What the fuck is going on here? 

I found my way back to the hall, my eyes darting around the buzzing room. There was tension, but there was also confusion. 

The old men in the crowd nodded approvingly, eager to see something I had no idea of. 

The moment I spotted Father, I walked towards him as fast as I could. There should have been a better explanation of what this is.

“Is this what you call a dinner!?” I asked him. “Father, we need to leave.”

His jaw clenched but he didn't say a word. 

“Why are you looking at me that way?”

“I’m sorry, Jax. It's what I needed to do.”

“Well, I take it back. I'm not going to marry that arrogant bastard,” I said in a whisper. “We can try to raise the money and pay him off. We have several businesses.”

“Why are you not saying anything???” I asked him but I noticed Father’s line of vision was set on someone or rather, somewhere.

With my pulse pounding in my ears, I turned but my eyes only met Charles shaking a group of men. 

His piercing blue eyes raked over me, assessing me before turning back to the person he was sharing a handshake with. 

“Father, he's not someone I can marry.”

“He doesn't care about marrying you either.”

The words hit me. 

I looked at him, at the crowd, and then at Charles. 

This was an auction. 

“Father?" My voice trembled, but not with fear. With betrayal. “You sold me to him!”

He lit a cigar, his movements were slow, he was thinking.. He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke before finally looking at me. Unmoved. Unbothered.

“I made the best decision for this family.”

I took a step closer, fists clenched. "For the family? What about me? Do I mean nothing to you?"

His gaze didn’t flicker. "You mean as much as you were meant to mean."

Before I could say another word, my vision blurred. There was something over my head. 

“What—what is that?!” I gasped, thrashing as the fabric clung to my face. 

Panic shot through my chest like electricity. “Get it off me! Take it off me!”