Chapter 2

Nathaniel Walsh looks at the beautiful disaster sitting right beside him. On her wrist are the marks of his fingers which she keeps touching. He has hurt her. He didn’t want to.

In fact he wanted nothing to do with her. For him she was a pretty little spoilt brat who had no knowledge of the outside world, of the horrors they serve you with or the struggle that it takes to become that he is today. No. She got everything on the silver platter, putting fingers on things and apparently people and claiming them to be hers. Her eyes shined like the diamonds on a crown, probably because they had never see anything dark and docile. She was lucky. But he was not.

His father ran a drug cartel in Mexico. He was rich, until he got caught. The world knows it to be an accident but he knows, his father was assassinated. And soon he found himself without any support, surrounded and hounded by people asking for him to repay his father’s debt. Life was but a nightmare to him.

Until he met the man who made everything go away. The nightmares stopped, the stalker disappeared, his education was paid for and he was living pretty decent. That man was Michaela's Farther, Edgar Rosewood. He worked hard, got into business school, became the partner of Edgar Rosewood with one goal. To pay off his debt. He was the king of his own destiny. But that was before he was sold to Michaela fucking Rosewood like some at price at auction.

At first Nate thought that it was Edgar. But later he realized that the tiny demon herself had decided to walk into his life with her tiny demon feet. She was everything he abhorred in a woman. Senseless, narcissistic, self absorbed , spoilt with the humorous arrogance on top.

In the last hour she had bought him, married him, made him boil with rage, shouted at him, made the police think that she was being kidnapped, almost burnt the car down with her cigarette and then called him names no one else would have dared to call him.

She was going to be the death of him and he knew it. It was literally written all over her face.

But he wasn't going to let her of the hook that easy. He was going to rub it in her face and make her pay for all that she had done to him. She thought she had him but it was he who had her. From the altar where he refused to kiss her, to everything that awaited her in the future.

He looks at her dark black hair falling like a curtain between them. The less he has to look at her face the better for now he knows, it's not sparkles that shine in her eyes but hell fire.

After a long journey Andrew pulls over into the garage of what looks like a penthouse.

Nate gets off the car and waits for Michaela.

“Aren't you coming? Or does the car look more comfortable to you?”

“You need to carry me in your arms. I've hurt my ankles because of you.”

“Don't kid yourself Barbie. Come if you want to or I’m leaving you here.”

“Do you want me to create a scene again?” she threatens him.

“You are going to regret this.” He threatens in return.

She slowly opens her mouth. But before she can make a sound he slams his palm on her mouth and lift her in his arms and onto his shoulder.

He drops her on the bed with force. The rose petals bounce off the bed.

He stares down at her with a slight smile of victory.

Lying there spread like an eagle, her dress has lifted up a little bit, her hair is a mess and her breath is raging. Nate’s breath begins to speed up with his heartrate. The heat washes over him as begins to sweat. The smile fades and he knows he needs to get away from her before he creates a menace.

She looks at him dead in the eye.

“Is that how you treat your wife?”

“ That is how you treat a girl with too much sass.”

She stands up. Her body touching his.

“You do that again and I’ll make sure I cut that smile off your face.”

He waits for her to back down but she refuses to be tamed. Especially by the man she bought isn't it. She still thinks she has the ownership over him.

He gently puts his hand on her waist.

“Then how do you want to be treated baby girl?” He whispers.

Michaela tries to pull away but he holds her still.

“ Let me go.”

“No.”

“I said let me go.”

This time he does.

“Don't worry. You aren't even my type.” He continues.

“ You better go to sleep. We have to leave in the morning. And I hate it when people are late.”

With that he hurries out of the room. Tomorrow he takes the devil to his personal hell where he’s the boss. He’ll be free from her never ending threatening. From tomorrow onwards she can shout all she wants it won’t make no difference. Rather her rage will be the pleasure that he seeks.

From tomorrow he will be the Devil.