between the Ghost Billionaire and Serafina.
When Damian returned to the bed, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Serafina was still trembling, clutching the silk sheet, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.
With agonizing slowness, Damian began to unbutton his shirt. His sculpted chest muscles and the perfect contours of his body caught the morning light in a display of sinister attraction. As he cast the shirt aside and reached to remove the rest of his clothing, Serafina stared at his incredible physique, mesmerized. Her fear and fascination had become indistinguishable.
Damian peered into her soul with those dark, piercing eyes. His signature crooked smile played on his lips as he moved closer. The scent of his cold skin was intoxicating.
Looking directly into her eyes, he asked in a calm, heavy voice:
"Why are you staring like that, Serafina? Do you want to have sex with me again? Or has the addiction to this body finally taken hold of you?"
Serafina lost her words. Her face flushed with a mixture of shame and arousal. She wanted to say she was afraid, but her eyes told a different story. Damian's question forced her to face a harsh reality—was she merely his prisoner, or was she becoming addicted to the touch of this supernatural mafia boss?
Without waiting for an answer, Damian leaned over her. He brushed her lips with his pale fingers and whispered:
"Your eyes say you want me, but your mind says I am a devil. Remember, Serafina, I will grant your every desire... but the price will be very high."
The Defiant Soul
Suddenly, Serafina's voice grew firm. Though every cell in her body was still vibrating with tension, she gathered all her strength, looked into his hypnotic eyes, and said:
"No! I do not want to have sex, and I won't. You can occupy my body with your power, but you cannot claim my will."
She tried to push against his chest to move away. Tears and stubbornness fought in her eyes. She refused to be a mindless doll any longer, remembering how this entity had shattered her life.
Damian froze. A Mafia King, who in life and death had never heard the word 'No,' was now facing open defiance from an ordinary girl. The reddish glow in his eyes deepened. He pinned her wrists to the bed, the weight of his cold body crushing her.
In a low, terrifying voice, he growled:
"You don't want to? Don't you know, Serafina, that I stripped you of the right to say 'no' on the very first day? Have you forgotten that even the walls of this palace obey only my command?"
He brought his face inches from hers. Serafina braced for him to force her, but instead, he bit her earlobe sharply and whispered:
"Fine. I will not force you today. But mark my words, Serafina—I will make you say with your own lips that you want me. The day you surrender to me of your own accord... that will be my true victory."
He released her and stood up. As he adjusted his clothes, he looked back at her with a challenging, triumphant smile.
The Lingering Chill
Damian lingered for a moment, his gaze locked onto hers. He possessed an invincible confidence; he knew that despite her verbal rejection, his mere presence electrified her nerves.
Suddenly, he leaned down and claimed her lips in a fierce, lingering kiss—a kiss of absolute ownership. Before she could react, he pulled away. The icy trail of that kiss left her entire body shivering.
Without another word, he turned toward the door. As he reached the threshold, the air turned freezing once more. Without a sound, Damian seemed to vanish into the mist, and the heavy door slammed shut on its own.
Serafina lay there gasping. Her lips were still tingling from his cold touch. She realized that even though he had left, his ghostly spell remained. He had left her in a state of strange, unfulfilled longing—a torture more exquisite than force.
The Glass of Crimson Desires
As night deepened, the VIP suite fell into its familiar, icy silence. Serafina lay awake, suspended between terror and anticipation. Suddenly, the temperature plummeted.
In an instant, Damian's ethereal form manifested beside the bed. He looked more regal and arrogant than ever. In one hand, he held a wine glass filled with a blood-red liquid. He sipped the wine with casual elegance, while his other hand clamped firmly onto Serafina's waist.
Before she could speak, Damian began to assert his dominance. This version of him was more thrilling and frightening. He was in no rush; he enjoyed his wine with one hand while playing with Serafina's body with the other.
At his touch, the cold shivers returned. She wanted to protest, but in the presence of his intoxicated gaze and muscular frame, her words died in her throat. Damian pulled her into a deep embrace and began to claim her body once more.
Even in the heat of their union, Damian showed no sign of exhaustion. He tilted the glass to his lips, smiling as he showed the defiant Serafina that he could be a lover, a devil, and a cruel master all at once.
"Didn't you say you wouldn't?" he whispered against her ear. "Look now, Serafina... your very body is inviting me. You will never be free from this addiction."
Serafina lost herself. Matching his supernatural pace, she began to sink into the abyss of the dark.
The Unforeseen Smile
Then, something happened that stunned Damian. Instead of crying out in pain or cowering in fear, Serafina suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. The sound of her laughter shattered the suffocating atmosphere of the room.
Laughter bubbling over, she placed her hand on Damian's powerful chest. Surprised, Damian moved his wine glass away. She looked into his eyes and said in a mischievous tone:
"You are... absolutely crazy! Drinking wine with one hand and doing... this... with the other? Are you a Mafia boss or a hero from some drama? You're just too much..."
Her sudden lighthearted mood was entirely unexpected for a solemn ghost like Damian. Her playful jab at his "style" hit his masculine pride like a sweet, soft blow.
Damian narrowed his eyes at her. This time, his lips didn't curve into a demonic smirk, but a genuine, amused smile. He set the wine glass on the nightstand and cupped her chin, pulling her closer.
"Crazy?" he murmured in a low voice. "No one has ever dared to call me that, Serafina. Do you have any idea how dangerous my 'craziness' can be for you?"
But Serafina wasn't afraid. She playfully tapped his nose with her finger. "The danger has been there since day one. But seeing your 'style,' I just couldn't help laughing."
Damian pulled her into a firm, protective embrace. The freezing chill of the room seemed to thaw. For the first time, a strange spark of friendship—or perhaps something deeper—flickered between them. He pulled her against his chest as they lay back, whispering into her ear:
"Keep laughing, Serafina. Perhaps your laughter is what will bring a ghost of life back into my dead world. But remember... I am never letting you go."