Her Cold Prince : Deadly Devotion To You

Chapter Four •• The Devil's Incarnate

Maylie

May slipped on her professional mask to hide the hurt that kept gnawing at her expression.

"May I go through your schedule for the day?"

Prince gestured for her to go ahead and continued to his seat.

She cleared her throat and read out his already laid-out plans with as much confidence as she could muster.

"A conference meeting with the board of directors this morning at ten, then an interview with an official journalist from Nationsworld Press at—"

The sound of harsh contact against posh leather cut her off.

She visibly flinched at the sudden noise.

Prince clamped a hand on the top of his chair, the same one that had come down on it firmly.

He tilted his head toward her, his expression murderous. "He let you tamper with my things?"

"He? What do you mean by 'he'?"

Was there a third party she was not aware of?

"That jerk," Prince swore under his breath. "He didn’t even inform you?"

"I do not understand what you mean. Is there someone else I am supposed to know about?"

"Contact him. Your former boss as of yesterday. He will be the one to explain."

Realization dawned on her, cold and fast, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice over her.

There was a he. There had always been a he.

May prided herself on maintaining a close relationship with her boss, and yet she had not even known.

Oh, there was going to be more than an explanation. An apology, at least, for she was certain she deserved it.

Prince’s grip on the chair tightened, the last of his resolve stretched thin. "And why are you still standing there doing nothing? Adjust this thing already. Make yourself useful."

_You will not cry. You will not cry. You will not cry._

May chanted to herself as she squatted to correct the height of the chair.

Her hands shook as she worked, and she blinked repeatedly, doing everything in her power to keep control of her emotions.

But Lord, it was damn hard.

Her day was definitely not going as she had planned, she thought, glancing at Prince. He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window with his back to her, hands tucked in his pockets as he stared down at the vehicles passing below.

She finished minutes later and stood. "It’s all done. Is there anything else I should help with?"

Without turning, he shook his head. "You can take your leave."

Only when she was out of his sight, the doors sliding shut behind her with a firm click, did she allow her shoulders to drop.

Scooping her bag off her desk, which sat just outside his office, May stomped her way to the bathroom, using every profanity in her vocabulary to describe him.

But her list of swear words was so short she ran out of them a few steps away.

Argh. She felt frustrated and annoyed all at once.

She pushed the door open and glared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

She had even put on a deeper shade of red lipstick and an extra swipe of mascara Hava had described as smoky. She had put in effort for him, only to meet the devil’s incarnate today.

She took a wet wipe from her bag and dabbed angrily at the makeup on her cheeks, lips, and lashes. Anything to wipe away the effort she had put in for him.

But deep down, she knew she was not supposed to feel this betrayed. Maybe the attraction had always been one-sided. Maybe he had never seen her as more than just a "secretary." She had been the one to foolishly hope for more.

Lord. She could not even get properly annoyed at him, because she felt she had no right to.

He was her boss, after all. Had been her boss. And she was only an employee.

She felt her shoulders slump as she let out a resigned sigh and picked up her phone.

After all, the devil’s incarnate had told her to "contact her former boss."

One ring. Two. Three... By the fourth, May had lost hope of an answer when, "May?"

Vince’s voice, warm and pleasant, came from the other end.

Lord, how she missed that voice. The unhurried words of a man who took every blow life threw his way with a contented smile.

She could have sworn she had never heard him raise his voice at her, or at anyone, in anger.

"Mr. Grayson," she said in a way that conveyed the words she could not bring herself to say.

"May, I’m really sorry. I should have informed you earlier, but things got busy yesterday after work, and I almost didn’t know until the last minute of his arrival. I’m really sorry you had to meet him without a heads-up. I would have said he could be like that sometimes, but that would be a lie. He is always like that. Prince."

She heard him expel a breath, as if he was not quite sure how to explain.

She felt a sense of relief at that. At least she was not the only person mortified by the brass nerve of the devil’s incarnate named Prince.

"You know what, May? Let’s meet up so we can do this properly. You deserve more than a brief phone apology. What do you say? If it’s fine by you, I’ll buy you dinner."

"Uh, yes. Free dinner sounds good."

Vince chuckled softly. "Alright then. Let me make it up to you properly later tonight. I’ll text you the address. And May?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. I really mean it."

She heard the muffled sound of another voice at the other end, someone who probably needed his attention as well.

He did not seem sure how to end the conversation without coming off as rude.

"Uh, May—"

"It’s okay. You must be busy. I guess later tonight, then."

"Later it is. Bye, May."

By the time she approached her desk, May had managed to shake off the annoyed expression. The conversation with Mr. Grayson — whose name was actually Vince, not Prince — had helped lift her spirits.

Maybe she had not been insignificant to him, after all.

Reaching the transparent glass walls of his office, May allowed herself a glance at the devil’s incarnate.

He was flipping through the pages of a file on his desk, brows creased in concentration, his expression vacant.

May could not help but marvel at how identical the two men were, and yet they could not have been more different.

She knew she was staring again, but she could not bring herself to stop.

He might have words and a personality that repelled her at first impression, but the man was good to look at. More than good, actually.

As if feeling the weight of her gaze, Prince looked up, and their eyes met before she could avert hers.

Uh. He had caught her staring. Again.

May awkwardly cleared her throat, flushed with embarrassment, and made to return to her desk when he raised a hand and gestured for her to come over.

Not feeling impressed at the thought of facing him again, May took her time walking slowly to his desk.

"You called for me?"

He was writing on the file, his capable hands moving swiftly as he signed his name on the bottom edge.

"Do you have plans for tonight?" he asked, closing it with a final thud and placing it with the other documents.

She was taken aback by his question. She could not think of a reason why he would care to ask such a thing.

"Why are you asking?"

He sighed. An actual, impatient sigh, as if she was the one wasting his time by asking the obvious.

The nerve of this man. May glared internally at the top of his slick hair.

"You just need to answer yes or no. If you will be busy tonight, how about tomorrow then?"

Now she was genuinely curious. It did not sound like he was asking her on a date. And she could not tell what he was thinking from his tightly schooled expression.

Lord. The man knew how to keep his emotions perfectly hidden. Except for frustration. He openly acted as if everything and everyone irritated him.

"Tomorrow, then. I already have plans for tonight."

He nodded, his gaze flicking up to her.

He frowned, and for a moment his eyes lingered on her lips. No, not exactly her lips, but close. Close enough that she swallowed nervously at the intensity in his gaze.

Prince stood and approached her.

She instinctively moved to take a step back, but her shoulders met the wall.

He stepped into her space, the scent of his cologne drifting to her.

Her heart hammered against her chest as he raised a hand and swiped at her cheek — dangerously close to her lips — with his fingers.

He straightened to his full height, examining his thumb for what had preoccupied him about her face.

"You claim to be professional, but you have lipstick smeared on your face in broad daylight?"

He sounded sarcastic, completely unbothered by how close they had been seconds earlier.

Even though she was still annoyed at him, she had sucked in a breath, her stomach tingling at the unexpected contact against her cheek.

But he, he had been indifferent. Completely.

He examined his thumb, tilting it to get a better look at the smear of red.

"The color is good, though. Crimson." The corner of his lips curved upward slightly. He was smiling at the sight of it.

Crimson. Wasn’t that the color of blood?

Just when she thought he could not get any weirder.

The lipstick was a deep red, but crimson would not have been the word she would use to describe its color.

His eyes flicked up to hers, as if he had just remembered she was still there.

"You can take your leave. And use a mirror while you’re at it." He dismissed her with a slight incline of his head.

"Yes."

May tried not to die of embarrassment as she made her way out of his office. Apparently, she had not been much successful in wiping away every effort she'd made for him.

Only when she was safely behind her desk did she allow herself to cringe at how she had reacted to him.

She placed a hand on her cheek, imagining the way his thumb had felt earlier. Her cheeks began to heat, a disappointing shade of pink.

She was attracted to him, while still actively hating his guts.

And how could she not find herself attracted to him when he had the exact same features as the man she had spent years liking in secret?

Uh. May groaned, letting her head hit her desk, her hair covering her face, as if it could also cover the mortification of the conflicting way she felt toward him.