Puck with the devil のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Irene Pov The heavy wooden door of our small apartment clicked shut, locking out the noise of the city streets.I stood in the tiny entryway for a long moment, my back pressed against the cold wood, staring into the dark, quiet living room. The apartment was suffocatingly still. My canvas tote bag felt like a ton of bricks hanging off my shoulder, dragging my whole body down toward the floor.I slowly walked over to the worn fabric sofa and let the bag slide off my arm. I reached inside, my fingers trembling as they brushed past the thick manila envelope of cash, and pulled out the sleek, black leather folder Lucian had given me.I set the contract down on the small wooden coffee table in the center of the room.It looked completely out of place. The rich, black leather gleamed under the dim overhead light, mocking the cracked coffee table, the faded curtains, and the cheap wallpaper peeling at the edges of the room. It was a physical piece of another world—a dark, powerful world gov

Irene Pov The second binder sat between us on the mahogany desk, thick, dark, and menacing.I stared down at the heavy leather cover, my breath catching in my chest. I had just pressed gold ink onto parchment, selling two years of my freedom for three million dollars to save my father's life. I thought the nightmare of legal jargon was over. I thought I had already surrendered everything there was left to give."What is this?" I asked softly, my eyes darting from the binder back up to Lucian's impassive face.Lucian didn't answer immediately. He slowly pulled out his leather chair and sat down, leaning back against the high headrest. He rested his elbows on the polished wood, joining his long fingers together in front of his chest. His pitch-black eyes fixed on mine with an intense, calculated gravity that made the temperature in the sprawling office drop several degrees."The marriage contract you just signed is for the public, the courts, and my board of directors," Lucian spoke, h

Irene Pov The sleek black town car was waiting for me at the corner of my street before the sun had even begun to set.I had barely managed to wash Uncle Richard’s suffocating scent of cheap cigars out of my hair before Julian’s message arrived on my phone. Mr. Dimitri requires a brief meeting before the evening concludes. There was no location specified, no reason given, just an address that led straight back to the private underground garage of Dimitri Enterprise.As the elevator carried me up toward the top floor, my stomach churned in relentless, dizzying cycles.The heavy mahogany doors of Lucian's penthouse office were already standing half-open when I stepped off the lift. Inside, the grand room was bathed in the dim, blood-orange glow of the setting sun filtering through the expansive glass walls.Lucian wasn't sitting behind his desk. He was standing near a low leather couch, unbuttoning his dark suit jacket and tossing it casually across the armrest. He wore a crisp black d

Irene Pov The heavy velvet curtain glided back without a sound, opening into a second, massive private dressing lounge bathed in soft, museum-style lighting.My steps faltered on the thick Persian rug.Row upon row of clothing hung on polished brass racks, carefully separated by garment bags. On a central glass island sat velvet-lined trays sparkling with fine jewelry, flanked by rows of hand-stitched Italian leather pumps, structured leather handbags, and tailored coats in rich shades of camel, ivory, charcoal, and deep emerald.It wasn't just a selection of clothes. It was an entire lifestyle, curated down to the very last thread."What... what is all of this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I walked slowly into the center of the room.Vivian stepped up beside me, her hands folded neatly behind her back. "This is your official wardrobe, Miss Davis. Mr. Dimitri’s executive office provided us with your exact measurements and aesthetic guidelines two days ago. Everything

Irene Pov My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird.My hand jerked on the glass carafe, causing the water inside to slosh against the crystal rim with a sharp, telltale clink. I set it down on the nightstand a little too quickly, desperate to hide the sudden, betraying tremor in my fingers."Irene?" my father asked softly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he tracked my erratic movements. "You went pale just now.""No... no, I didn't, Dad," I stammered, forcing my voice to rise into a light, airy pitch that sounded completely fake even to my own ears. I turned back around, smoothing down the front of my cream silk dress with far more force than necessary. "There's no one. I've been working sixteen hours a day between my fashion projects and the new executive firm. I don't have time for... for anyone."My father let out a quiet, raspy chuckle that turned into a gentle cough. He reached for his napkin, dabbing his mouth before looking up at me with a fond, mischievous glint