Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

The woman stepping out of the car was like the sun itself, drawing every gaze her way. Her makeup was flawless, highlighting her striking features.

Ignoring the cold, stern man beside her, she brushed past him without a glance. But just as she moved, he pulled her back into his arms.

Her brows knitted in frustration, and she struggled briefly, but with so many eyes on them, she had to relent. There was no comparing their strength-she knew that too well.

His arm tightened around her waist, his sharp features softening slightly as though it had taken a great weight off him to have her close. A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Mr. Coleman... Mr. Coleman..." someone whispered.

"Shh! Quiet! Don't you know how unpredictable he is? If you upset him, you'll regret it. No one makes it in Clothville by crossing him." The lively atmosphere instantly turned somber. To the uninitiated, he might have been mistaken for a celebrity. But his presence was something else entirely-an icy, suffocating pressure.

If he was ice, then the woman in his grip was fire-two elements that should have repelled one another. Yet, standing side by side, they looked inexplicably right, as if they were always meant to be together.

Marcos, mid-conversation with Denis Vukic, caught sight of them. His brows rose in mild surprise. He hadn't expected Aurora to be connected to someone like this. Nicholas Coleman-a nthat could send chills down the spines of both saints and sinners.

Denis, who rarely visited Clothville, wasn't familiar with Nick's reputation. And Nick, ever discreet, let his ndo the heavy lifting while his face remained a mystery to most.

From across the room, Asher, chatting casually with Aurora, caught sight of him too. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well, well. Little fox, who's that? You've been busy making connections since you got back, haven't you?" Even at a distance, Asher could feel the oppressive force that surrounded Nick, as if the man carried an invisible storm wherever he went.

Aurora, unfazed, smiled lightly. "He's a friend of Julian's. Helpedout once. People call him Mr. Coleman." "Mr. Coleman..." Asher repeated, his tone laced with curiosity.

Aurora's gaze flickered toward Irene, who stood tense in Nick's hold. "Back when Zachary got into trouble at the casino, Nick stepped in. Of course, Julian was the one who called him. Without that connection, I doubt he would've lifted a finger." Asher tilted his head, studying Nick's rigid grip on Irene. "Looks like he's still helping out. Though... not the most subtle way of doing it." Aurora smiled knowingly. "Subtlety isn't his style." Irene, meanwhile, had spotted Aurora and Julian and made to approach them, but Nick's arm stayed firm around her waist.

"Could you let go? I just want to say hi," she hissed, her irritation barely hidden. Nick's reply was a single word, delivered coldly: "Together." Irene rolled her eyes. "Fine. Then move faster," she snapped, tugging his hand impatiently.

He let her pull him, glancing down at their interlocked hands with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. To anyone familiar with Nick Coleman, that smile was more shocking than anything else.

The unflappable, frigid Mr. Coleman... smiling? Irene didn't notice. She was too annoyed to care. Years ago, she thought she'd severed ties with him for good. Yet here he was again, back in her life, as if he had never left.

If you're loving the book, nel5sis where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience—all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! He hadn't changed much-still cold, still domineering. But there was something different now. In the past, even the smallest infraction would have unleashed his fury. Now, even when she deliberately provoked him, he just... stayed.

She had ctoday to support Aurora's new perflaunch. Given her connection to Julian, it was the polite thing to do. Dressed to perfection, she had barely stepped out of the elevator when Nick's men swooped in, ushering her into his car with military precision.

Nick had been waiting, his expression unreadable as his sharp gaze swept over her. "You're going to the launch, right? Convenient. I'll take you." Convenient? Irene wanted to laugh. She'd purposely moved across the city to avoid him, and yet here he was, effortlessly inserting himself into her plans.

She had gestured toward her Porsche 911 parked nearby, its bold red paint a reflection of her fiery personality. "I have a car," she bit out, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Nick's gaze flicked toward her car, then to one of his men. A silent command. The bodyguard drew his gun and fired, the sharp crack of the shot shattering the air. The tire exploded.

Irene froze, her body rigid as the familiar sound of gunfire echoed in her ears. No matter how many times she'd heard it before, it still sent a shiver down her spine. "Nick, are you insane?" she shouted, her voice trembling with fury.

He met her glare with an icy calm. "The car's broken." She turned sharply on her heel. "Fine. I'll call a cab." Nick's voice cut through the air, low and deliberate. "Do you think there's a single taxi in this city that would dare pick you up?"

If you're loving the book, nel5sis where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience all for free the next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! Irene stopped in her tracks. She clenched her jaw, knowing he wasn't bluffing.

"Get in the car, Irene. Don't waste time. Weren't you the one who hated seeing innocent people get hurt?" he said, his tone deceptively casual, though the warning was clear. Her hands curled into fists at her sides before she exhaled slowly. "Fine. I'll take the ride, Mr. Coleman." She climbed into the car, the door clicking shut behind her. Glancing at her reflection in the window, she noticed her cheeks were puffed out in frustration.

Nick seemed amused. His lips curved into a soft chuckle, startling the driver and bodyguards alike.

Inside, Irene pulled out her phone, determined to ignore him completely. Her fingers tapped trously on the sereen, her focus on a gas if she could vent her frustration by destroying virtual enemies. Nick watched her quietly, then reached for a neatly packaged container. The aroma of freshly prepared porridge filled the car as he opened it.

"Your favorite. Eat," he said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact.

Irene glanced at him with disdain. "Don't you hate eating in enclosed spaces? The smell always gets to you." Nick's lips twitched into something between a smirk and a smile. "Still remember what I hate? Not bad. Means I'm still in your heart." Before she could retort, he scooped a spoonful, blowing on it gently before holding it out to her lips.

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