The loud alarm jolted him awake. He instinctively reached over to silence it, his hand fumbling across the nightstand. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he tried to sit up but froze at the unexpected sensation of something holding onto him. Turning his head, he saw the small figure curled up against him, her arms and legs wrapped around his hand.
His gaze lingered, tracing her features from her closed eyes, to the soft curve of her nose, down to her slightly parted pink lips. He quickly averted his eyes, exhaling sharply, only to find himself drawn back to her again. Her hair, once neatly tied back, had loosened during her sleep, leaving stray strands draped across her face.
Before he realized what he was doing, his hand began to move toward her, instinctively reaching to brush the strands away. He stopped himself just in time, glaring at his own rebellious fingers. Slapping his hand down, he muttered under his breath, "How dare you disobey me? How dare you?"
His whispered reprimand must have disturbed her, for she stirred slightly, her grip loosening as her eyes fluttered half-open. Panic surged through him as her gaze finally met his.
He was startled and tried to look away, but it was as though he was trapped, locked in the mesmerizing pull of her crystal-blue eyes.
Evelyn's gaze met his, and a flicker of surprise danced across her face. For the first time, she saw him without that cold, devilish mask he always wore. Instead, there was something human about him—raw, unguarded, and unexpectedly vulnerable.
His neatly tied hair was now a tousled mess, strands falling carelessly over his forehead. Her eyes drifted to his lips—soft, unyielding, and… God, were they always this tempting? She could hardly believe it—he looked undeniably attractive, even with the faint grogginess of someone who'd just woken up.
But wait. Did demons even sleep? That thought made her pause. Yet, looking at him now, he didn't resemble a demon at all. The cold, menacing aura that typically clung to him like a shadow was gone, replaced by something almost peaceful.
In this fleeting moment, he wasn't the fearsome, untouchable Carlos she had known. He was just Carlos—her husband.
The sudden knock on the door snapped her back to reality. Evelyn's eyes widened as she realized how long they had been staring at each other—and worse, that she had been hugging him all along. Holy lord, she thought, her cheeks flushing with heat. A second knock jolted her into action, and she jumped out of bed in a panic.
She watched him as he sat up slowly, his movements deliberate and calm. He stood with his usual grace, and in an instant, the Carlos she had seen earlier—the one with the unguarded, warm expression—seemed to vanish. In his place stood the man she knew too well: cold, commanding, and distant. If she hadn't seen it herself just moments ago, she would have refused to believe that the same man capable of looking so normal and human could transform so completely.
A shiver ran down her spine. I'm in trouble, she thought, biting her lip nervously. She watched him walk to the door and open it, revealing the man she remembered meeting the night she signed the contract—Gavin, his secretary.
Gavin was no different from his boss, with that same icy demeanor and unreadable expression. Birds of the same feather, she had thought.
Evelyn watched quietly as Carlos and Gavin left the room, their cold presence lingering even after they disappeared down the hall. Moments later, a loud shriek echoed from the direction of the study, making her flinch.
"Are you sure the time is eight o'clock?" Carlos's sharp voice carried down the corridor.
"Yes, boss," Gavin replied, his tone calm but firm. "I came to pick you up when I realized you were running late."
There was a pause before Carlos's voice rang out again, this time laced with disbelief. "Impossible."
Evelyn peeked out of the door, her curiosity getting the better of her. She caught a glimpse of Carlos turning his back to Gavin, his expression unreadable as he checked the time on the large clock in the study. It was two minutes past eight in the morning.
Carlos stared at the clock, his mind racing. He couldn't believe it. How had he managed to sleep so deeply and peacefully? It was an unfamiliar sensation, and the realization unsettled him.
More importantly, something was missing—something that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. The dream. He hadn't had the dream last night.
His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening as unease crept in. What the hell is going on? he thought, his mind spinning with questions he couldn't yet answer.