CHAPTER FOURTY-SIX

ELLA

I must have drifted off in Lucifer’s arms because I wake as the plane begins its descent.

Blinking my eyes open, I take in the unfamiliar surroundings, my body aching and sore from the intense encounter we just shared.

I had almost forgotten what being with Lucifer felt like—the overwhelming mix of pleasure and pain, both shattering and cathartic.

I feel hollow yet electrified at the same time, completely drained but somehow still buzzing with the aftermath of emotions.

Sitting up carefully, I wince as my sore backside presses against the sheets. That had been one of the more intense sessions, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the bruises linger for a while.

Scanning the room, I notice a door that likely leads to the bathroom. Lucifer is nowhere in sight, so I get up and head over, eager to freshen up.

To my surprise, the bathroom is well-equipped, featuring a small shower, a real sink, and a proper toilet. With these amenities, Lucifer’s jet feels more like a luxury suite than any commercial plane I’ve been on.

A plastic-wrapped toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash are neatly arranged on a small shelf. I make use of all three before stepping into the shower for a quick rinse.

Feeling much better, I return to the bedroom and get dressed.

When I step into the main cabin, I find Lucifer seated on the couch, a laptop open on the table before him.

His shirt sleeves are pushed up, revealing tanned, muscular forearms, and his expression is one of deep concentration. He looks so effortlessly striking that, for a moment, I forget to breathe.

As if sensing me, he glances up, his blue eyes gleaming.

“How are you, my pet?” His voice is low, intimate, and sends a hot flush racing through me.

“I’m fine.” What else am I supposed to say? My backside aches because you whipped me, but that’s okay since you trained me to like it? Yeah, right.

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. I was about to come get you. You should take your seat—we’re landing soon.”

“Okay.” I do as he says, carefully lowering myself into the chair, trying not to wince at the sharp sting. There’s no doubt—I’ll be carrying these marks for days.

Buckling myself in, I glance out the window, eager to see where we’re headed. As the plane breaks through the clouds, a vast city sprawls beneath us, bordered by towering mountains.

“What city is that?” I ask, turning to Lucifer.

“Bogotá,” he answers, shutting his laptop. Picking it up, he moves to sit beside me. “We won’t be here long—just a few hours.”

“You have business there?”

“You could say that.” His lips curve slightly in amusement. “There’s something I need to take care of before we fly to the estate.”

“What is it?” I ask cautiously, knowing that Lucifer’s amusement is rarely a good sign.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He offers no further explanation and reopens his laptop, returning to whatever he was working on.

A BLACK CAR, IDENTICAL TO THE ONE THAT DROPPED US OFF AT THE AIRPORT, is already waiting when we step off the plane.

Orson once again takes on the role of our driver, while Lucifer remains engrossed in his laptop, completely absorbed in his work.

I don’t mind. My attention is fixed on the bustling streets as we navigate through the city. Bogotá has a distinct ‘Old World’ charm that captivates me.

Traces of its Spanish colonial past blend seamlessly with a vibrant Latino energy.

It reminds me of the arepas—Colombian corn cakes—I used to buy from a food truck back in downtown Chicago.

“Where are we going?” I ask when the car comes to a stop in front of a stately old church in an upscale neighborhood. I never imagined Lucifer as the type to attend church.

Rather than answering, he steps out of the car and offers me his hand. “Come, Ella,” he says. “We don’t have much time.”

Time for what? I want to press him further, but I know it’s pointless. He’ll tell me when he’s ready—and not a second before.

Placing my hand in his, I step out of the car, allowing him to lead me toward the church. For all I know, we’re here to meet some of his associates. Though why he’d bring me along for that is beyond me.

We enter through a discreet side door and step into a small yet elegantly decorated room. Wooden benches line the walls, and at the front stands a pulpit adorned with an intricately carved cross.

For some inexplicable reason, the sight of it unsettles me. A wild, impossible thought creeps into my mind, and suddenly, my palms feel clammy.

“Uh, Lucifer…” My voice trails off as I meet his gaze. There’s a strange smile on his lips. “Why are we here?”

“Can’t you guess, my pet?” he murmurs, turning to face me. “We’re here to get married.”

For a moment, I can only gape at him in stunned silence. Then a nervous laugh escapes my lips. “You’re kidding, right?”

His brows lift slightly. “Kidding? Not in the slightest.” Reaching for my hand, he slides something onto my left ring finger.

My pulse quickens as I glance down, staring at my hand in numb disbelief. The ring is something straight out of Hollywood—an elegant, diamond-studded band with a dazzling, round stone at its center.

It’s delicate yet extravagant, and it fits so perfectly that it feels like it was made just for me.

The room blurs before my eyes, tiny specks of light flickering at the edges of my vision. It’s only then that I realize—I had stopped breathing for a few seconds.

Gasping for air, I lift my gaze to Lucifer, my entire body trembling. "You… you want to marry me?" My voice barely rises above a horrified whisper.

"Of course I do." His eyes narrow slightly. "Why else would I bring you here?"

I have no answer. All I can do is stand frozen, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

Marriage. Marriage to Lucifer.

The thought is incomprehensible. The very idea of Lucifer and marriage feels as distant as two opposite ends of the earth.

When I think of marriage, it’s always been a vague, idyllic future—a loving husband, two energetic children, a dog, and a cozy home in the suburbs. I imagine school picnics and weekend soccer games.

Not a ruthless man with the face of a fallen angel. Not a beautiful monster who makes me scream in both pleasure and pain.

"I can't marry you." The words escape before I can stop them. "I'm sorry, Lucifer, but I can’t."

His expression darkens instantly. In a blink, he’s on me, one arm cinched tightly around my waist, pressing me against him, his other hand clamping around my jaw.

"You said you loved me." His voice remains calm, but beneath it, I can hear the quiet fury. "Was that a lie?"

"No!" Trembling, I meet his piercing gaze, my hands futilely pushing against his solid chest. The weight of the ring on my finger feels suffocating, feeding my rising panic.

I don’t know how to explain—how to make him understand something I barely grasp myself. I need Lucifer. I can’t imagine life without him. But marriage? That’s something else entirely—something that has no place in our dark, tangled bond.

"I do love you! You know that—"

"Then why would you refuse?" he demands, his anger burning in his dark eyes. His grip on my jaw tightens, fingers digging into my skin.

Tears sting my eyes. How do I explain why I hesitate? How do I tell him I can’t picture him as my husband?

That he represents a life I never planned for, never wanted—and that by marrying him, I’d be letting go of the faint, distant dream of a normal future?

"Why do you want to marry me?" I ask desperately. "Why does it matter? You already own me—"

"Yes, I do." He leans in, his face inches from mine.

"And I want legal proof of it. You will be my wife, and no one will ever take you from me."

I stare at Lucifer, my chest constricting as the realization sets in.

This isn’t a romantic gesture. He’s not doing this out of love or a desire to build a family.

That’s not how Lucifer works.

Marriage, to him, is just another way to solidify his claim over me. Nothing more.It would be a different kind of possession—one far more binding—and something deep inside me recoils at the mere thought of it.

"I'm sorry," I say steadily, mustering my courage. "I'm not ready for this. Can we talk about it again later?"

His expression turns to stone, his eyes glacial and unreadable. Without warning, he lets go of me and steps back. "All right." His voice is as frigid as his stare. "If that’s the game you want to play, my pet, we’ll do it your way."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone and starts typing.

A cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach. "What are you doing?" When he doesn’t answer, I ask again, trying to keep the panic from my voice. "Lucifer, what are you doing?"

"Something I should’ve done long ago," he finally responds, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "You still dream of him, don’t you? That boy you once wanted?"

For a moment, my heart ceases to beat. "What? No, I don’t! Lucifer, I swear, Ace has nothing to do with this—"

He cuts me off with a sharp, dismissive motion. "I should’ve eliminated him from your life a long time ago. Now, I’ll correct that mistake. Maybe then you’ll finally accept that you belong to me, not him."

"I am with you!" I have no idea what to say, no clue how to stop this. Desperately, I reach for his hands, my cold fingers burning against his warmth. "Listen to me—I love you. Only you. He means nothing to me, he hasn’t for years!"

"Good." His expression remains unmoved, though his fingers tighten around mine, trapping them in his grip. "Then it shouldn’t matter what happens to him."

"No! That’s not how this works!" I’m trembling so violently now that my teeth are chattering. "I care because he’s a person—an innocent bystander in all of this—nothing more!" My voice cracks. "He doesn’t deserve to suffer for my choices—"

"What he deserves is irrelevant." Lucifer’s words lash at me like a whip as he yanks me closer. Leaning down, he grinds out, "I want him gone—from your thoughts and from your life. Do you understand?"

The sting in my eyes worsens, my vision warping with unshed tears. Through the haze of sheer panic, I realize there’s only one way to stop this. One thing I can do to spare Ace’s life.

"All right," I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper. Staring at the ruthless man I’ve fallen for, I surrender. "I’ll do it. I’ll marry you."