《My Nemesis from Hell》


 Chapter 1: Amber Blue-eyed Demons

    The blinds are pulled back by deft hands allowing the room to be bathed in light. The afternoon sun is high and bright, a little too bright for the gloomy figure that stirs in the grand four-posture bed, a melodic groan leaving full lips. The room is a mess, mostly when its owner is in a particularly bad mood. Several books line the floor in disarray as if taken off the white wall shelf and thrown to rot. Paint brushes lie mess on a canvas atop the white wood desk pushed against the baby blue accent wall. Pillows are plucked off the bed and thrown around in an anger fit thanks to the news that has been revealed upon the young heiress of the family last night.


    The old maid tuts, her pristine bun greying at the roots as she gently shakes the restless figure under the white sheet. She holds her breath because she knows how the heiress gets when she is irked. "Fea, you must wake up, or you will be late for the conference," she coaxes softly.The sheet is pulled down begrudgingly to reveal shiny blonde locks and breathtakingly gorgeous midnight blue eyes that look like the cloudless night sky during a full moon.


    Sometimes, it''s difficult to look at their young mistress without losing their ability to breathe due to how painstakingly beautiful her features are. Over the past three years, more than ten servants have been dismissed since the young mistress returned from boarding school, each falling helplessly in love with her. "Good for me," the old maid thinks to herself. "Or why else would they keep an old lady like me to tend to the young mistress?"


    "It''s today then?" the lilting voice has her breaking out of her selfish musings. The young mistress sits up in bed, the sheets falling away to reveal her soft, doll-like face and a frown that doesn''t suit it one bit. But what can Mariah do? If she could, she would bring the sky down to make the young heiress feel better but nothing is in her control.


    "I''m afraid so, Fae. Get ready now, your manager will be here any second now," she encourages, pulling back the sheets so she can hurry her. Serafina Rose Falcone pouts to herself, frowning before she gets up to get ready.


    In her twenty-four years of life, she never thought that she would find herself in a situation where she would hold a press conference to declare her marriage to her sworn enemy. She huffs to herself as she pulls off her pink silk slip dress and steps into the heated shower. If she only knew that hiring private investigators to spy on her enemies would come to bite her in the ass like this. But then again, how could she have possibly known that one of the investigators would anonymously leak information about Kyng Enterprises'' links with the mafia that would ultimately connect her own entertainment company with it?


    After a quick shower, Serafina emerges, droplets of water glistening on her skin like diamonds. She wraps herself in a baby pink robe, the fabric soft against her delicate frame, and moves with purpose as she prepares for the looming press conference. Her manager is there to greet her when she steps out of her closet after downing a short baby blue two-piece outfit, couldn''t bring herself to wear pink on such a bad day. The skirt hugs her hips just right, and the jacket sits above her navel.


    "Let me do your hair," her manager says, placing her coffee on her vanity but Seraphina shakes her head, looking at herself in the mirror as she starts to put on the most expensive pearls she owns.


    "I''ll just leave it as it is, think the blowout came out nicely," she brushes the blonde strands back and sees that the arm workout she went through to achieve it was all worth it.


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    The last thing she wants is to be caught looking ugly next to her enemy.


    Not that it was physically possible for her to look ugly but then again, the man she is announcing her engagement to has a way of appearing ethereal.


    Her manager nods in agreement, "We have to leave soon, Fae," she knows her manager is trying to not break the truce that the morning has brought upon them after the screaming session they had last night when her mother informed her about the arrangement that both the CEOs had decided in favor of both companies. It ended with Serafina rushing out of her mother''s study with tears in her eyes. She curses the spy a thousandth time since the leak as she follows her manager out of their manor.


    They reach their destination quicker than Serafina would have liked. The flash of cameras threatens to penetrate the shaded glass to get a glimpse of the young heiress. She takes a breath, dread clogging her pores when she notices the number of reporters waiting outside before her door is opened. The moment she steps out of her car, they are met with a blinding barrage of flashlights, the paparazzi eager to capture every moment.


    Serafina squints against the sudden brightness, her heart racing. The cacophony of shouts and clicks fills the air. She clutches her manager''s arm, steadying herself as they navigate through the throng, each flash illuminating her porcelain skin and the striking blue of her eyes.


    "Serafina!" Multiple people scream her name.


    "Serafina, look this way," one of them shouts.


    "Serafina, is it true that you and Mr. Damien have been in a secret relationship since last year?" The question catches her off-guard, has icy anger prickling her skin. She can''t believe it has led to this. She now has to associate with her worst enemy in the most intimate of ways for the public.


    Just thinking about it makes her want to throw up.


    "Serafine, are you and Mr. Damien marrying in two weeks? Why the hurry?" Someone shouts in her ear and she has to turn away.


    "Just keep walking, Fae. Focus on me," her manager urges, guiding her through the swarm.


    With each step, Serafina feels the weight of her decision bearing down on her¡ªa contract marriage to her sworn enemy, a spectacle for the world to see. As they enter the hall where the conference is being held, she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the storm ahead and promising herself she won''t lose her cool because of Damien today.


    That of course, turns out to be her delusion speaking because half an hour after she has been seated for the conference, her fiance is yet to show up. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her anger from showing on her face, her posture stiff as she looks down at all the reporters whispering to each other in their seats. Her skin pricks with embarrassment, cheeks are a tiny bit flushed making her appear excited rather than absolutely livid. Her mother sits next to her having arrived earlier, her bun immaculate with not a single strand of hair out of place and her angelic face stoic. Serafina sometimes is in awe of how her mother can keep it together like this in the most maddening situations. Her mother''s manager whispers to her and it has Serafina looking over at her manager quizzically. Gracie gives her a tight-lipped smile, an indication of the impending doom or silent encouragement, Serafina can''t tell.


    Just when her anger is about to get the best of her and she is considering storming out of the hall, the front doors open.


    And there he stands.


    Damien Alistair Kyng.Her breath hitches in her throat, cheeks burning as she instantly catches his eyes.


    His heterochromatic eyes seem to hold different emotions as the cameras flash at him, illuminating the mischief that resides in his blue eye and the danger that lives so comfortably in his amber one. He stands like a god among men with his six foot three stature, the maroon silk shirt he wears leaves little to the imagination about his muscular frame.


    His golden skin glows a healthy hue as he brings his hand up to brush the raven strands of his hair back. It brings into focus the red snake tattoo he has on his hand which Serafina knows, ends at his elbow. The red snake coiled around his right forearm with its head covering the back of his hand, its mouth open to reveal sharp fangs over his thumb and its forklike tongue in the shape of a skull tattoo next to his index finger. He smiles at one of the cameras, canines that are a bit longer than the rest of his teeth glint pearly,


    "I apologize for the wait," his husky baritone that carries hints of devilishness sounds over the shutter of the cameras.


    Serafina hates the way her stomach swoops, her heart missing a beat in the face of that smile.


    "Hello, angel..." The belittling nickname has heat cursing in her veins, a hatred that she''s grown familiar with enclosing her heart.


    *

 Chapter 2: Wreath of Threats

    Serafina turns her expression into something bright as Damien makes his way to the stage, his blue eye glinting even brighter the closer he gets and he doesn''t once take his eyes off her. His father, Luca Vulcan Kyng follows behind him, the sight of the main suspect of her father''s murder making bile rise in her throat. She stands up when her mother rises beside her, forcing a smile that must look like a grimace to stretch across her lips.


    She considers the words she will say when Damien meets her mother. But he takes her off guard when he wraps his arms around her, engulfing her in a hug that has his large frame swallowing the entirety of her small one. The smile slips off her face as she feels her heart thump to a stop before it starts an erratic rhythm. She brings her arms to wrap around his midriff, unsure where she is supposed to put them as she pats him for the cameras.


    "Missed me, angel?" he husks in her eyes, the rough baritone causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand.


    "Most ardently," she sasses, her voice saccharine sweet.


    He chuckles against her temple, patting her back. "Ah, I know I have," his voice is laden with amusement as he pulls back and she has to force a loving smile up at him. The hint of women''s perfume on him not slipping her observation.


    The press conference flies by quickly, most uncomfortable questions being answered by their parents as they sit in the middle just to show their undeniable chemistry. Thankfully, it''s over before any of them can blow their cover and lunge for each other''s throats.


    By the time, they leave the main hall and retire to the back, Serafina is ready to flee. She''s angry, upset, and humiliated at the same time. Humiliated because the Kyng heir won''t stop calling her "Angel" and if she didn''t know the demeaning reason why he calls her that, she would have agreed with the female reporters who awed every time he called her that.


    There was another reason too, one she hated herself for noticing but once, she did, she hadn''t been able to think. His secretary who stood at the far back of the hall, was visibly shaken when she first entered the hall, her lipstick messy and her shirt crinkled. She had fixed herself up in the thirty minutes that Serafina didn''t look at her but nothing could hide the bruises sneaking over her pristine collar or the obvious creases on her skirt.


    So, that was the reason why he was late.


    "What''s your problem?" She hisses after making sure that her mother and Luca are out of earreach, her midnight blue eyes blazing as she glares up at him.


    There''s slow bemusement in his body language like he is having the time of his life just knowing he has managed to get under her skin. "Mmm, not sure what you mean, angel?" he hums, leaning his hips against the wall as his right hand rises to rub his mouth, canines glinting as he tries to hold back his amusement.


    "Don''t call me that!" she sneers at him, the negative expression not suiting her angelic features one bit. "And I know you tend towards being a slut, but really? You couldn''t contain yourself even today?"


    He chuckles as if she''s just said the funniest joke in the world, his eyes glinting. "Ah, you are so funny," he cocks his head as he leans down so he is at eye level with her. "Are you jealous, butterfly? You know, you are the only one for me. I was just messing with her," he mocks, feigning an innocent puppy look and Serafina wants to rip her hair out.


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    "Don''t call me weird names," she frowns, sees a reporter with his camera pointed at them from the corner of her eye and she mentally rolls her eyes, wrapping her arms around the monster that is Damien''s shoulders. Damien''s eyes widen a tiny bit before he, too notices the camera, his own large hand gripping the small of her waist, inching her closer.


    If the proximity makes her feel light-headed, she ignores it. "I''m not jealous, just save me the humiliation of having my fiance cheat on me- in the public''s eye, of course," she angles her head in such a way that the camera isn''t able to track the movement of her lips, delicate fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.


    Damien smirks at her, face inching closer until his lips are brushing the side of her face. Her hands fist the silk of his shirt, body heating up without her permission as he breathes against her ear. Hot puffs of air made a shiver run down her spine. "You speak like you won''t run to your darling boy toy the moment you step out of this building. I would be careful if I were you, angel." his actions are hot but the words he speaks cause a chill to engulf her.


    The way he talks about Ryan, the causal threat that those words hold has her reeling, stepping back a little to gather her nerves. She looks at him with those devastatingly dark midnight blue eyes clouded in suspicion. "Whatever you mean by that," she knows he has links with the mafia, hell, he might be the mafia itself and she won''t let his evilness reach Ryan on her watch. What he has done to Ryan''s career is bad enough.


    A new wave of disgust and hate engulfs her. "And if I am fucking him, I am careful unlike you. We are not the same," she narrows her gaze at him, pressing closer so people don''t suspect.


    It is ironic the way their actions as so opposite to how they feel about each other. So closer, wrapped around each other like lovers when they can''t even breathe the same air as the other.


    His hand now traces up her back, under her jacket so the heat of his palm can be felt under the thin material of the white shirt she wears. His thumb caresses between her shoulder blades once, twice, and she feels small, small, and vulnerable as his hand almost spans the totality of her back. His eyes flash as his lips part in a lopsided grin, white canines glinting dangerously as he sways her.


    "Just bad words for such a pretty mouth," he purrs, the words far too sweet for the danger he carries in his eyes. "Of course, we aren''t the same, birdie. I would never let anyone I hired leak private information about my company; risky move there."


    Serafina schools her expression before it can give away the bewilderment she feels, acid-hot fear engulfing her gut and she almost chokes. She hopes the color isn''t draining from her face the way she feels her blood rushing downwards, flight and fight activated. Where will she go? She''s right in the devil''s arms, long sinewy muscle trapping her like a snake coiled around its prey.


    "Mmm, judging from your silence, there is some truth to it, huh?" Gone is the amusement, his mood has shifted to something dark, something Serafina doesn''t want to dip her fingers in just yet.


    "I don''t know what you are talking about. Hired who?" She replies, her tone very confident though she feels anything but. She hopes her pure eyes are manipulative enough though, pretty stars staring up at his differently colored ones in confusion.


    His mouth curls upwards in a smirk, hand tracing down her back to grip her side, squeezing once and her heart beats in her throat, anxious and definitely turned on. "That we will find out, butterfly. But if I find that you have any hand in the fuckedupness that we are trapped in, just know..." he nods, trailing off. And he doesn''t have to finish, Serafina knows what he is capable of.


    She gulps, arms lowering from his shoulders to fall beside her as she steps away. "I still don''t know what you are talking about," she holds ground, feigning ignorance.


    "Serafina," her mother''s call cuts off whatever Damien was going to reply and for once she is grateful for her mother''s watchful eye.


    As they walk towards their parents and managers, she feels uncertainty engulf her. Sure, she doesn''t want Damien to discover that the spy she hired leaked that information. Knowing Damien, he will surely cause a scene. But more than anything, she can''t have her mother find out.


    If Angelina Falcone finds her own daughter risked their company''s reputation, the company she gave her blood, sweat, and life-sustaining, Serafina doesn''t know what her mother will do.


    And the thought scares her more than anything.


    *

 Chapter 3: Dubious Hatred

    Serafina has spent her whole life being alone.


    She cherished the few years of her childhood in which her father was alive and relived them over and over in the form of happy memories. It won''t be wrong to say that her childhood ended the morning they found her father dead in his study under the pretext of suicide. She was too young then to understand the concept of suicide, she just knew that her father had gone away because he wasn''t happy here.


    He also took away her mother.


    Ever since her father died her mother put herself into the company, working day and night to solve the crisis without letting it go into the wrong hands. Her father loved his company, and the artists that they had signed. His sole purpose was to bring people solace and a sense of belonging through music and Falcone Entertainment did exactly that, with multiple international subsidiaries managing the biggest artists all over the world.


    While her mother was busy being a Girl Boss and an absolute inspiration, Serafina was slowly slipping into loneliness.


    Her life wasn''t the same as it used to be, turned upside down due to the tragedy of losing her father. Gone were chaotic breakfasts and school dropoffs with her dad. Gone was the light-hearted banter with her mom, replaced with paper-thin silence that slowly grew into a concrete wall. Gone were the friends she used to rely on because she was sent to her boarding school in Switzerland. Gone were her evening piano lessons with unique-eyed Damien.


    Serafina looks at the image illuminated on her laptop screen. The unique-eyed Damien that looks back at her now is nothing more than a stranger, a friend turned enemy. There was a time when he didn''t look so big, so untouchable but now as she looks at the pictures of the press conference; they look like they belong from different worlds. Damien looks dark and dangerous wearing his maroon silk shirt and black pants, red snake tattoo, and silver canines glinting. Next to him, she is soft, baby blue clothes and midnight blue eyes. It''s as if they took two separate pictures and photoshopped them together.


    Her manager told her to choose a photo she likes of them and send it to her for her Instagram hence why she is browsing through them, but she can''t stop agonizing over the fact that she looks bored or mad during the whole press conference. Her eyes trace over Damien''s features once more, his threat from the morning ringing in her ears as if it''s being whispered to her at the moment.


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    Her screen illuminates with a message beside the laptop. She finds a text from her manager in the most recent chats, ignoring Ryan''s message about meeting up, she opens Gracie''s chat. "Fae, you have a date with Mr. Kyng at noon for the fitting. He will be the one picking you up so be ready on time," Serafina will make sure she makes him wait twice as long as he made her wait at the press. She sends a thumbs-up to her manager before turning off her phone.


    Her fingers tap against her glass desk, contemplating before she opens Ryan''s conversation. "Fae, why am I reading about you announcing your engagement with Damien Kyng? Pick my calls," he had texted before calling her four times during the evening but she wasn''t ready to face him just yet.


    The love that she once felt for the boy is nothing but a distant memory, clouded over by years of complexities and confusion. She met Ryan during her freshman year in college, Ryan was a senior then. Fresh out of boarding school and far away from her best friend, she was in desperate need of company which Ryan gave her. He was nice and sweet and helped her settle into city life without trouble. They were friends for one year before Ryan asked her out and she said yes.


    Their relationship wasn''t free of problems though, Ryan had his insecurities, and she had responsibilities.


    The biggest of their problems remained constant.


    Damien.


    Did she mention Ryan was Damien''s classmate and rival?


    Speaking of the Devil, her screen illuminates with a text once more. It''s from an unknown number but she ends up opening it nonetheless. "Be ready by noon, Angel. You know I suck at patience," she rolls her eyes, putting the screen away once more as she opens another window on her computer.


    Midnight blue eyes watch closely as the screen shows the scene of a front yard. The lights of the modern house are on, curtains pulled away from the large floor-to-ceiling windows. She notices the car on the porch, most probably having parked there moments ago as a chauffeur climbs into the driving seat. She notes the time, frowning over the fact that the occupant was out later than usual today.


    She has half a mind to close the screen, her cursor hovering over the red cross when she notes a moment in the corner of her screen. She stops just for a few moments to catch a glimpse of the owner of the house coming into view thanks to the uncovered windows. He is shirtless, olive skin glowing under the cozy yellow lights as he talks on the phone.


    Delicate fingers tap over the glass desk once more, urging herself to close the window. They end up zooming in to allow a better view of the man from the camera placed on the tree closest to the window. The dragon coiled around his left bicep looks at her threateningly as she bites her lip, and watches him cut the call before his long fingers type on the screen.


    Her phone buzzes beside her, she picks it up absentmindedly, opening the chat once more to see Damien has sent another text message. "If you are thinking about making me wait, I promise you I''ll come to your room and drag you out in your night clothes if I have to. Don''t test me," she notes the smirk on the man''s face as he pockets his phone.


    She doesn''t reply, knowing the threat is nothing but empty.


    *

 Chapter 4: Bloodstained Feathers

    She''s in pain.


    Her back is burning to the point that she wants to claw it out as she sits on a pristine white bed.


    She cries, weeps. Her sobs reverberate off the walls of the small illuminated room as she clutches blood-soaked feathers to her chest, her white robe stained with crimson blood.


    Agony surrounds her and fills her with the call of something unknown as she cries. Her neck burns the most second to her back, clumpy red feathers getting stuck between the palms of her hands as she grits her teeth to tolerate the ache.


    And then, her eyes fall on the mirror propped against the golden vanity in one corner.


    *


    Serafina frowns at her reflection in the mirror, the annoyance showing on her face as she brushes her hair back, the 12-carat oval cut diamond was gracefully slid onto her finger by her fiance when he came to pick her up, glinting under the fluorescent lights. She turns then, the assistant following after her hurriedly, picking up the train of the large dress as she walks out of the dressing room.


    And there he sits, her devil of fiance in his white silk shirt and leather jacket, his tight jeans clinging to muscular thighs. Serafina had rolled her eyes in the morning when he showed up wearing those jeans and maybe she wouldn''t have hated them even more now had her fiancee not made her try on ten wedding dresses in four different stores. "What do you think, sir?" the attendant asks fearfully, knowing if he doesn''t like the dress she would need to take it off Serafina and put her in a different one.


    But the issue that Serafina is over it.


    "I don''t like it," Serafina says before her fiancee can open his mouth to say anything.


    Damien meets her eyes in the mirror, a slow smile spreading across his lips. He knew she would never like it. Matter of factly, the only dresses he''s requested her to try on are the ones she hated. "What do you not like about it, Angel?" Playing the loving fiancee. Serafina is also over the smooth rumble of his voice.


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    She looks at the dress on her again. Her hair has been brushed down by the attendant, a clip in the shape of a white rose holding her veil in her hair. The bodice of the dress isn''t intolerable. If anything, it looks gorgeous; with delicate embroidery and a form-fitting design. But the flare of the skirt is too much, it is large and long following after her. It reminds her of Queen Victoria''s dresses and not in a good way.


    "It''s too big?" She tries her hardest to not grit her teeth at him as she replies, smiling sheepishly at the attendant.


    Her fiance waves the confused attendant away as he approaches Serafina. "You know with that attitude, everyone will know you don''t want to marry me, don''t you?" he picks a strand of her hair from her back as he peers over her shoulder.


    She hates that she is still shorter than him even though she is standing on the platform. She looks back at him, trying not to let the venom show on her face as she speaks, "You know that wouldn''t be the case had you picked the right dresses for me to try?" She makes her voice saccharine sweet as she replies.


    "Baby, you could always say you don''t want to try them," he mocks her, his voice equally sweet though his amber and blue eyes glint in mischief.


    She narrows her midnight ones at him, the anger getting the best of her. "And blow off the fucking cover?" she sneers. But her breath gets stuck in her throat when he inches closer to her instantly, his differently colored eyes even more gorgeous from this angle as his hand wraps around her waist.


    "As much as I enjoy seeing you so visibly upset, you might just blow the said cover by reacting so loudly," he tuts, rubbing up her arm and eliciting dangerous shivers up her spine.


    "And whose fault would that be?" she murmurs, her eyes hard though she makes the effort to lower her voice.


    "Yours, of course," he smiles down at her, sharp canines glinting under the fluorescent lights and Serafina has half the mind to step back.


    "Can you show her that dress we were talking about earlier?" He says loudly seemingly to no one in particular and magically the attendant slips out of the dressing room with red cheeks.


    Serafina realizes she has been careless when Damien winks at her, although there is a fire in his eyes that tells her she''s stepping on thin ice. But does she care?


    Well, maybe a little bit.


    The dress that the lady shows her is beautiful. Delicate lace that hugs the form perfectly, it''s backless to the bum, and has a detachable train that would follow five steps behind her. She is instantly in love though she does feel like something is missing.


    "It''s beautiful but I don''t know, there seems to be something missing," she mutters to herself as she stands before the mirror in the same dress, her fiancee busy with his phone which she is happy with, not wanting any more of his opinion.


    "I can''t tell, Miss. It''s the most stunning piece we have," the attendant answers. "Would you like to wear a veil and see how you feel about it then?"


    But the veil makes no difference. She''s so taken with figuring out what the dress needs that she misses Damien''s silent steps as he approaches her. She almost jumps out of her skin when his hands settle on her hips, "It needs a pop of color. Can you embroider maroon flowers along the hips and on the shoulders?" He traces over her hips and then her shoulders where he suggests the flowers should be.


    They get into a whole conversation about the placement and shade after taking Serafina''s agreement.


    But all Serafina can think about is the blood-stained feathers in her dream and their resemblance to her wedding dress.


    *