The Devil's Favourite Obsession

”He is in debt,” Cassian said calmly, as though he were discussing the weather instead of her life. ”He owes me a tremendous amount of money, and you became the collateral attached to that debt.”

Cixi stared at him.

”I am the collateral?” The words came out quieter than before because the explanation genuinely hurt in a way she had not expected.

And Cassian noticed immediately how the colour faded from her face.

”In monetary terms, yes.” He leaned back lazily in the chair as though none of this bothered him in the slightest. ”In my opinion, your parents loved you so much that they never came searching for you after your kidnapping.” His eyes remained on her while he continued mercilessly, ”Perhaps they thought losing you was easier than paying what they owed me.”

The nurse quietly excused herself from the room. So did the doctor shortly after. Now, only Cassian and Cixi remained inside the hospital room.

Cixi folded her arms tightly across herself because she hated how his words had affected her. ”If you are trying to poison my mind with your nonsense,” she replied stiffly, ”it is not going to work.”

Cassian’s brows lifted slightly. ”Nonsense?” he repeated with dangerous amusement. ”You were the one asking questions about your family. Now that I am generously answering you, have my words suddenly become nonsense?” His gaze sharpened slightly. ”You truly have nerve speaking to me like that.”

Cixi refused to back down despite the uncomfortable tightness in her chest. ”First of all,” she started quickly, ”how exactly can my parents owe You money? That would make you around their age or perhaps twice their age.” She frowned suspiciously at him. ”Actually, I am not even sure you were born at that time, so stop speaking rubbish.”

”A child,” Cassian scoffed softly beneath his breath before shaking his head once. ”I am older than every human currently walking this earth.”

Cixi stared at him for two full seconds. Then she scoffed right back before clapping her hands once in exaggerated realisation. ”Oh my God.” She looked at him dramatically. ”Did you genuinely start believing you are the actual ’Devil’, cursed to live forever?”

Cassian’s eyes slowly drifted toward her swollen fake belly before rising lazily back to her face again. ”I see the pregnancy hormones are damaging your brain.”

Cixi instantly glared at him. ”There you go again!” she snapped. ”You keep bringing up this fake pregnancy every five minutes as though you personally created the child.”

”That accusation hurts me deeply.”

”You do not even know what genuine emotions are.”

Cassian rose smoothly from the chair then, and the movement alone made Cixi instinctively step back half a step because sometimes he carried a presence that felt overwhelming without even trying.

”You wound me again, Lousy Kisser.”

”You survived being stabbed through the heart. I think you will survive my words, too.”

That actually made him laugh quietly.

And annoyingly enough, his laugh still carried the same warm richness capable of making women lose common sense around him.

Cixi hated that she noticed things like that now. Especially after what the reaper had implied.

”You are thinking again,” Cassian observed.

”No, I regret.”

”About?”

”Every life decision that led me toward you.”

Cassian smirked faintly before reaching for his gloves resting on the nearby counter. ”Unfortunately for you,” he murmured while slipping them back on, ”you are already involved with me.”

”And unfortunately for you,” Cixi muttered back, ”I am becoming immune to your poppycock.”

”Did I hear Cock?”

”NO! I said Poppycock!”

”I still hear cock.”

*

*

*

Far away from the hospital, another car slowly arrived at the massive entrance of the Crown Palace.

The sleek black vehicle came to a smooth stop beneath the towering archway while security guards immediately straightened themselves upon recognising the expensive foreign registration.

The rear door opened first.

A tall man stepped out gracefully.

His grey hair was neatly combed back, and a perfectly trimmed grey beard framed a face that carried the composed refinement of old money and aristocratic upbringing. Even the way he adjusted the cuff of his coat looked elegant.

Once outside, he extended his hand back toward the car.

A pale, feminine hand immediately slipped into his.

An elegant woman emerged next.

She wore a fitted pencil skirt with a cream blouse tucked neatly beneath a long, tailored coat, while her dark hair was secured into a flawless low bun. Her beauty carried maturity and composure rather than youthful softness.

Then the man extended his hand once more toward the vehicle.

Another slender hand appeared.

And this time, a younger woman stepped out.

She looked no older than twenty.

Long, wavy blonde hair cascaded freely down to her waist, shifting softly in the morning breeze, while the fitted black dress hugged her figure, ending just above her knees. Her skin looked pale and luminous beneath the sunlight, and the bright smile resting on her face carried an effortless warmth completely different from the cold atmosphere surrounding the Crown family.

The security guards discreetly glanced toward her more than once. Not because they lacked discipline. But because she was genuinely beautiful enough to draw attention immediately.

”Good afternoon. May I ask the purpose of your visit and your names, please?”

The silver-haired man turned to him without hurry. ”I am Lorian Romanov. Please inform Lady Tamara Crown that I have arrived with my family.”

Something in the officer’s bearing shifted almost imperceptibly, the way trained men respond to a name they were told to expect. He gave a short bow. ”Yes, sir. We were informed of your arrival. Please follow me.”

He led the Romanov family through the main entrance and into the palace interior. The young woman walked beside her mother, her eyes moving slowly across everything. The high ceilings. The portraits hang in ordered rows between tall windows. The way the afternoon light came through the glass made pale shapes across the marble floor. She touched nothing, but looked at everything with that same open attention, unhurried and quietly fascinated.

Her mother walked beside her, saying nothing. Only once, when the girl’s gaze lingered a moment too long on a portrait near the staircase, did the woman reach out and touch her arm gently, the way mothers do when they want their child to keep moving without making a scene of it.

The girl smiled and looked forward again.

Lorian walked ahead of them both, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression giving nothing to the walls or the guards or the long corridor they were being led through.

The officer finally brought them to the parlour, a room furnished in muted golds and deep greens, with tall windows overlooking the east garden. A fire burned low in the grate despite the season, and the room carried the particular warmth of a space that was kept ready rather than lived in.

”Please make yourselves comfortable. Mrs Crown will be with you shortly.”

The officer withdrew and closed the door.

Lorian moved toward the window and stood with his back to the room, looking out at the garden. His wife settled into one of the high-backed chairs with the ease of a woman who knew how to wait in elegant rooms without appearing to wait at all. She smoothed her skirt once across her knee, folded her hands, and looked at nothing in particular.

The girl, however, did not sit.

She moved slowly around the perimeter of the room, examining it the way someone might examine a place they had heard described and was now quietly comparing it to the version they had built in their imagination. She paused before a small painting near the fireplace. A winter landscape, grey and bare, with a single lit window in the distance.

”It is a beautiful room,” she said to no one specifically.

Her mother glanced at her. ”Sit down, Tatiana.”

”In a moment.” Tatiana turned from the painting and looked toward her father’s back instead. ”I am not sure if it was a good idea to move to this city so early.”

Lorian did not turn from the window. ”Yes, it was a good decision. It would be better if you got to know Rafael before the engagement is announced.”

Tatiana pressed her lips together and moved to the sofa and sat down gracefully, crossing her ankles the way she had been taught to. She rested her hands in her lap and looked at the low fire.

But the brightness in her eyes had not dimmed. It had simply turned inward.

She had spent a long time imagining what Rafael might be like. She had to break with her boyfriend back in Russia because of Rafael. She hoped Rafael is worth it.

Soon the parlour room doors opened once again, and Tamara Crown entered with the sort of composed elegance only women raised around wealth seemed to possess naturally.

Her sharp eyes immediately softened the moment they landed on the guests.

”Lorian,” she greeted warmly while walking toward him, ”it is good to see you again after so many years.”

Lorian Romanovs smiled politely before taking her offered hand.

”The years have been unkind enough to remind us we are growing older,” he replied smoothly. ”Yet you look exactly the same.”

Tamara laughed softly at the familiar charm in his tone.

”You always knew how to flatter women properly.”