Chapter 15 - Battle of Wills

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My brain refuses to work and my voice is stuck somewhere in my esophagus. His eyes glitter underneath the impossibly long eyelashes, pinning me in place.

He seems more mature than the last time I saw him. His features seem sharper and his eyes, harder. His skin glows golden tan as though he just came back from a holiday on a sun-drenched island or a yacht. His dark brown hair is a bit longer than the last time I saw him, the end teases the collar of his snowy white dress shirt. Even covered in his suit that he wears so well, I can see that his body is broader with a trim stomach. How old is he now? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?

He's younger than Nico but he seems more mature. He also has that charisma and authoritative presence that Nico lacks. I'm drawn to the powerful and dangerous magnetic vortex that swirls around him.

We stare at each other like two opponents squaring off and I don't know how long we've been staring at each other when I hear a small cough from one of his goons who brought me here. I'm the first to look away, breaking our eye contact, trying to clear whatever fog that surrounds my brain.

That pull. That connection. It's even stronger this time or maybe it's stronger than I remember it to be? At this point, I don't know. All I know is that I have to stop myself from submitting to that feeling again. It's necessary for my self-preservation. I will not be destroyed like the last time. I'm not the same naive 16-year old anymore.

Besides, he's about to marry Naomi Walsh. I could still see the image of him with his arm around her very clearly in my mind and that's enough to burn me up with anger and rebuild my wall.

From my peripheral vision, I see him nods at his men. They give him a little bow before taking off. The click of the door closing behind them seems so loud.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, clenching my teeth while staring at everything around his office but at him. It's a sizeable office with two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the New York City skyline is magnificent.

I can feel his eyes watching me and the air continue to sizzle with electricity between us but I refuse to give in to that pull to look at him again.

"Have a seat, Danica," he says, indicating one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

Warmth slithers down my spine at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue and I struggle to seem unaffected by it or his presence. "No, thanks. I'd much rather stand. I won't be staying long," I tell him, airily.

"I see," he says slowly before he moves to take a seat behind his desk.

An awkward silence stretches between us and I'm determined not to be the one who breaks it.

His eyes narrowed on my wedding invitation before he finally says, "So, what's this?" He throws the ivory and gold card in the middle of his desk as though it's personally offended him. The bottom of the invitation card is heavily wrinkled.

"You know what that is," I reply, forcing a honey-dripping smile on my lips. "You are cordially invited to my wedding."

A muscle tick at his jaw and his nostrils flare when his gaze catches the big rock on my finger. Then his eyelashes sweep up as he stares at me. The gold bursts in the middle of the green irises of his eyes burn bright. Apart from Astaroth and my brothers, he's got to be the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Like a fallen angel.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" he asks after an eternity of another staring contest.

I feel my spine stiffens. "Why is it a joke?" He might not want me, but is it really that impossible that someone else might want a half-demon like me enough to want to marry me? I know I'm sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, and fun, damn it!

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