Serpentine Desires

The prey

Judas Romanovski, the elusive billionaire, made his first public appearance in over a year after a mysterious accident left him blind.

Now poised to take over Romanovski Enterprises from his father, Alexei Volkov, speculation swirls that his injury wasn't just a mishap but the result of corporate sabotage. His return only deepens the intrigue.

I swallowed the piece of sandwich with difficulty. My eyes were glued to the book in front of me, but my ears perked with curiosity. So, he was factually blind.

I still couldn't wrap my mind around the fact, but who was I to judge?

"I just can't believe he has gotten so much handsome and such a daddy..." Alina sighed dreamily staring at the screen where Judas's picture was showing with him wearing an expensive pair of shades and his hunter eyes hidden, his lips set in a thin line, jaw-line chiselled from stone, his furrowed brows as he seemed to glare at the camera cast a shadow as if a storm was set to break.

His hair was styled back, unlike today. The person on the screen was completely different from the man I encountered today. His scary tattoos were veiled behind his rich black suit. I wonder if he knew how deadly he looked with that scary expression, or was it always on default?

"Alina?"

"Don't disturb me, Sera. Lemme look at my future husband...he is sent from heavens..." Or hell. She sighed zooming on his face. She had been doing that for the last two hours now. I didn't know this Russian was so obsessed with him. Ever since I got back to the dorm, I couldn't help but think of him.

Curiosity killed the cat. Well, at least the cat died knowing and I grabbed my phone.

I punched in his name, my fingers fidgeting as the search bar loaded and his profile appeared on the screen. Judas Romanovski-son of Ralph Romano, Killian Schmidt, Alexei Volkov. I frowned. Three fathers? Mother-Rara Romanovski. Siblings-Anya Romanovski, Tina Romanovski.

Curiosity piqued, I clicked on his family picture. The image that unfolded was almost surreal. Three men stood behind a woman seated gracefully on a plush couch, draped in a flowing beige chiffon dress. Her smile was gentle, almost ethereal, the kind that masked untold stories. The men behind her were striking. One smirked, his pale blue eyes shimmering with mischief, while another stood expressionless, his sharp features carved with an almost statuesque precision.

The two younger women bore identical features, though their hair colours differed-one with raven-black locks, the other a soft chestnut brown. Yet their eyes told vastly different stories: one pair a deep, enigmatic green, the other a rich, knowing brown.

And there he was-Judas Romanovski. Standing beside the man with green eyes, he effortlessly commanded attention. He towered over him by an inch or two, his broad shoulders exuding dominance. His presence was almost oppressive, his face a perfect balance of aristocratic refinement and cold, predatory intensity. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, his high cheekbones casting shadows over the hollows of his face. But it was his eyes-those piercing hunter's eyes-that seemed to burn through the screen. Even in a photograph, his gaze was unnerving, as if he could see through the lens, through time, through me. A shiver crept down my spine, my breath hitching as I stared back, caught in the illusion of his watchful presence.

I didn't know when I zoomed in on his face and felt my breath hitching. This man...what was he? He couldn't be real. There was no way he was sent from the heavens. Every muscle and fibre in his body seemed to mould with hell's fire, made from Pandemonium soil. One look at him, and I wanted to run for the hills. There was nothing human about him, at least not looks-wise, because no human had any business looking like this. So beautiful and satanic.