The Devil's Favourite Obsession

She moved as if she owned the very oxygen everyone else in the restaurant required to breathe. She wore a spaghetti-strap dress that clung flawlessly to her curves, paired with towering red heels. Her shoulder-length black hair gave her a sharper look as she walked onto the terrace floor, her hips swaying like a runway model.

She wasn’t alone but accompanied by six men who could rival Adonis.

Two men positioned themselves at each end of the couch opposite Cassian. Another two men stood firmly behind the empty sofa, while the final two swept the bar and the kitchen areas.

Cassian didn’t acknowledge her, yet he was letting her invade his space.

Finally, when the woman, known exclusively in the underworld as Madam Wasabi, took her seat on the opposite couch, he dragged his dark gaze from the city skyline and settled it on her.

They said nothing at first.

The wind moved between them as if testing which of them it should obey. Seconds stretched, then stretched further. Neither of them blinked. Neither of them broke the silence.

Around them, conversations softened. Even strangers found themselves watching without understanding why, drawn by the silent collision of two dangerously composed personalities.

One of her handsome guards appeared at her side and lowered himself smoothly to one knee, presenting a cocktail upon a silver tray with the grace of a court attendant.

”A drink for the lady,” he stated.

Only then did Lady Wasabi break her intense eye contact with Cassian. She looked down at the man kneeling for her and offered a devastating smile. ”Thank you, Jonathan.”

She lifted the slender glass. Jonathan stood tall and retreated into the shadows near the bar.

After taking a slow sip of the pink liquid, she finally spoke to the Devil. ”You took my table.”

Cassian did not apologise. ”Then claim it back.”