He laughed lightly. “Yeah, that’s what the guilty always say.”
Based on his analysis, it seemed he was on the right track—and I hated how everything pointed toward his assumption. He was wrong. Love was a strong word, and men like me were unfamiliar with that emotion.
Was I lusting after her?
Yes.
But that’s all it was. Lust. Nothing serious.
If that were true, then why was I irritated by the mere thought of being with other women? I’d never had an issue with using and dumping them afterward. But this time, things were different.
The one who was supposed to repulse me kept drawing me in like a fuckin’ moth to a flame. And those whom I was supposed to be attracted to were the very ones that irritated me.
These women would do anything to share my bed, but I didn’t want them. I only wanted her, Evaline Harlow, the girl who dared to defy me every chance she got.
By the end of the night, I drove back home, eager to set eyes on her again. Before now, I’d never had a reason to return home early, never had anyone to come back to.
As fascinating as this new chapter of my life was, it came with something foreign: fear. The fear of losing her and the emptiness she would leave behind. That alone terrified me more than any enemy ever could.
Chapter 19 —Eva
The days blurred past in a flash, and we still hadn’t spoken since our last conversation. His words lingered on the fringes of my mind, a constant reminder of his arrogance. He believed I’d crave more of him and that he’d be waiting for me.
As annoying as that was, I knew deep down that he was telling the truth. It was harsh and blunt. Yes. But it was the truth I wasn’t ready to admit yet. He was also right when he said that my body often betrayed my words.
The man could read me like an open book, and I hated it—I hated how well he knew me. Since he was so certain that I’d crave him again, I was determined to prove him wrong. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I had no choice; I had to at least try.
It would be so embarrassing to fall back into his arms after telling him to his face that what had happened the last time didn’t mean anything to me. Even though my body would eventually betray me, I wasn’t going to let it happen so soon.
It had been almost two weeks now: two long weeks of absolute boredom. He was rarely home, and even when he was, he was either in his bedroom or working in his study. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he, too, was avoiding me.
Demyon was always working, day and night, like he was trying so hard to distract himself from acknowledging my presence. At first, I was okay with the distance between us because I thought we both needed some time to think and get our shit together.
But as time went on, I realized that I’d already gotten attached to him and was used to our banter. The silence was deafening, and with each passing day, the weight in my chest grew heavier. His sudden change in attitude affected me more than I cared to admit.
It wasn’t until after he left me alone that I realized how much I actually enjoyed it when he confronted me about my attitude. I used to like the attention but never admitted it. Now that he was acting all nonchalant, I felt a strange kind of emptiness inside me.
I hadn’t set eyes on him more than four times since our last conversation, but I couldn’t help noticing the shift in his behavior.
Each time I saw him, I saw cracks in the armor he wore. For once, I didn’t see a monster when I looked at him. I saw a man, confused and fighting his own shadows.
Perhaps I was so focused on myself and what I wanted that I failed to realize that he, too, might be dealing with something. He was only human at the end of the day—he had feelings too, and they could be hurt just like everyone else’s.
The problem was that I’d always seen him as a monster, and I never stopped to view the world from his perspective.
Was I being selfish? Or was this another form of manipulation, even in his absence?
With all the maids and the guards in the house, I’d never felt lonelier. It was clear to me now that I couldn’t take what I’d dished out.
I was the one who started this movement. It was my idea to stay away. I was the one who wanted some space, and now that he’d granted my wish, the silence was suffocating.
These days, he moved like a ghost in his own house. I used to know he was around, and I thought I was torturing him by keeping my distance. But nowadays, I had no idea what his schedule was like. Whether he was home or not, I couldn’t tell.
One night, bored out of my mind, I decided to grab a book from the library. My bare feet padded against the marble floor as I made my way through the dimly lit hallway. When I reached my destination, I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open.
The room was dark, with the moon’s soft light streaming through the windows. As I turned on the chandelier, its warm glow revealed a man seated in one of the empty chairs.
“Oh, my God!” I yelped, my hand flying over to my chest.
