Chapter 3: The Devil Smiles at Midnight

When I got home that night, the sky was dark and quiet, but my blood still ran hot from his eyes.

Lucas Black looked at me like I was something dangerous, something forbidden, something he wanted but couldn’t fully trust yet.

I took off my heels, threw them on the floor, and stared at myself in the mirror like a stranger.

Who was this woman now? She didn’t cry anymore. She didn’t beg. She didn’t wait to be saved by anyone.

I brushed my fingers over my lips slowly, still feeling the way his voice touched me like warm smoke in air.

Why did my heart race around him? Why did my body tremble like it was hungry every time he stared hard?

It wasn’t love. I didn’t believe in love. It was something else—something darker, deeper, sharper than I could ever explain.

I had goals, and none of them included falling for the devil in a suit with killer eyes and control issues.

Still, I closed my eyes that night and dreamed about him—his mouth near my ear, whispering things I couldn’t forget.

---

The next morning came fast, and I walked into the office like I belonged there, wearing black again like armor.

Lucas was already inside, flipping through papers, his coat on the chair, sleeves rolled, veins showing.

He didn’t look up when I entered, but I felt him see me, feel me, like I burned into his skin.

“You’re two minutes early,” he said, voice soft but sharp. “Trying to impress me, or just desperate to see my face?”

“I don’t need to impress anyone,” I replied calmly. “I’m just allergic to being late, especially around controlling men like you.”

He finally looked up, and his eyes dragged over me slowly, like they were fingers brushing every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re brave this morning,” he murmured. “Should I be worried, or are you just hiding something behind that fire in you?”

I walked closer, placed his coffee on the desk, and smiled. “What if I told you both were true, sir?”

His mouth curled, and for a second, I saw something there—something wicked and amused, something that made my knees weak.

“Keep that energy,” he said, sipping the coffee. “You’ll need it when today’s meeting eats your soul and spits it out.”

---

I followed him to the top floor, into a boardroom full of older men who looked at me like fresh meat.

They all wore expensive suits and fake smiles, their eyes sliding over me like I was something to be owned quietly.

Lucas didn’t introduce me. He just sat down, leaned back, and waited for them to speak like a king among rats.

“We heard rumors, Mr. Black,” one said slowly. “That your new assistant is... unusual. Unqualified. Pretty, but loud.”

Lucas didn’t flinch. He turned to me and said, “Eva, tell them what you think about old men with small minds.”

I smiled sweetly, stood tall, and said, “I think fragile egos look worse when wrapped in overpriced silk and fake power.”

The room went silent. One man dropped his pen. Another choked on his water. Lucas? He just started laughing like thunder.

“That’s why I hired her,” he said proudly. “She speaks truth. You should try it sometime, though I doubt you will.”

The meeting went on, and I took notes, my head high, while Lucas stared at me like I’d just passed a test.

---

Back in his office, the silence was thick again, and I could feel him watching me like I was a puzzle.

“You enjoy making enemies,” he said finally, voice low like honey melting over sharp ice. “Or are you just addicted to danger?”

I met his eyes, slow and steady. “I’m already surrounded by enemies, Mr. Black. I might as well enjoy the war.”

He nodded once, his expression unreadable. “You remind me of someone I knew... long ago. But she didn’t survive her fire.”

“I already died once,” I whispered, stepping closer. “And now I’m the ashes learning how to burn everything in return.”

His jaw tightened, eyes darkening. “You speak like pain lives in your bones. What happened to you, Eva?”

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to scream it all. But my mouth only said, “Enough to make me fearless.”

He stepped closer, close enough to feel his breath, and my heart betrayed me by beating too hard, too fast.

“Fearless women are dangerous,” he said softly. “They destroy kings. They kill monsters. They kiss devils and don’t look back.”

“I don’t kiss,” I said, lifting my chin. “I take. And I don’t give anything I can’t afford to lose.”

---

That night, he called me to his office again, long after the building emptied, the city glowing like stars on fire.

The lights were dim. His tie was gone. His shirt was open at the collar, and he looked... wild, unchained, tired.

“Sit,” he said, motioning to the chair beside his desk. “I need someone who won’t lie to me tonight.”

I sat without speaking, the silence wrapping around us like smoke, thick with heat and something I couldn’t name aloud.

“Do you ever miss the girl you were?” he asked suddenly. “Before the fire, before the scars, before the rage?”

I stared at my hands for a long time. “I miss her peace. But she was too soft. Too trusting. Too dead.”

He nodded slowly. “I used to be kind once. Now, I only know how to win or destroy what blocks me.”

“We’re the same,” I whispered, not even meaning to say it, but the words came like a confession I couldn’t stop.

His head turned sharply. “Are we?”

I nodded once. “Same fire. Same hunger. Same emptiness, even when surrounded by everything people think we should love.”

He leaned closer, voice barely a sound. “What if I told you I want to fill that emptiness... with you?”

My breath hitched. “I’d ask if you mean my mind, my body, or the parts of me no one touches.”

His eyes burned. “All of it.”

He reached for my wrist, slow and careful, like touching a wild thing that might bite but might also kiss.

His fingers were warm, rough, steady—and the moment he touched me, it felt like something inside me broke open loud.

I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. His touch was soft and firm.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I said, my voice shaking. “Not even myself, sometimes.”

He stepped closer. “Then let me show you who you are. Let me remind you how it feels to burn right.”

My mouth opened, but no sound came. His hand moved to my waist, pulling me slowly until our bodies finally touched.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he said, his breath on my lips.

“I know,” I whispered. “But I want you to.”

Then his mouth was on mine; hot, rough, claiming—not sweet or soft, but like a man who’d waited too long to break.

I kissed him back, hard, fingers in his hair, body pressed to his like I needed this fire more than air itself.

His hands moved like he already knew every inch of me, like he wanted to memorize me with every single touch.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Our bodies told the story of pain, hunger, rage, and something close to need.

When I finally pulled away, my lips swollen, my breath wild, I looked into his eyes and saw the same fire.

“We’re going to destroy each other,” I said, voice hoarse.

“Maybe,” he replied, touching my jaw gently. “But it’ll be beautiful.”