The Devil Doesn't Bargain | Daerin

2 | Why are you so cold?

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The morning light filters through the large windows, piercing my eyelids with an unrelenting brightness. My head throbs with a dull, persistent ache—must be from the alcohol last night.

I open my eyes slowly. The events of last night come back in a chaotic blur—Haerin's cold eyes, her touch, our kiss, and our lovemaking in this bed.

I never do one-night stands.

So, what the hell was last night? What's wrong with my damn mind?

Regret floods my chest, wrapping me in a tight, suffocating grip.

It was good—better than good—I can't lie. But now, in the light of day, all I can feel is shame and confusion.

Still naked with the white sheets twisted around my body, I sit up slowly, wrapping the sheet around myself like a protective shield.

I see her already awake, standing by the minibar, downing a glass of water with an almost clinical air.

She's perfectly dressed in a tailored dark blue suit that accentuates her tall, lean frame. The jacket, with its sharp lapels and fitted cut, hugs her shoulders perfectly. The trousers are slim, elongating her legs. The crisp white shirt beneath the jacket is buttoned neatly, and the dark blue tie is perfectly knotted. Her dark hair falls loosely around her shoulders, cascading in soft waves that frame her face beautifully.

Oh my, she looks way hotter in a suit.

"Where's my dress?" The first thing I ask. My voice breaks through the silence in the spacious room.

She doesn't speak. She simply points to the corner where my dress is neatly folded on a chair.

Her silence feels like a slap. Does she really not want to say anything? After everything we had?

I stare at the dress. I don't think I want to put it back on. It'll only remind me of last night, a costume for a role I stepped into but can't own.

Then, I look at Haerin. She's already sitting cross-legged on the black sofa, holding an iPad in one hand and a glass of water in the other, calmly sipping it.

"Good morning," I wish her.

"Morning," she replies curtly, not even looking up from the screen.

So cold.

I take a deep breath, trying again. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine." Her tone gives nothing away as she finishes her drink.

I watch her, trying to think of anything to say that might get her to open up.

"This place is so luxurious, I could never afford something like this. It has such a great view. I noticed it last night, but it looks even better in the daylight."

"Yeah," she says.

Just a word. Always.

I see her eyes flicker briefly towards the window before returning to whatever the screen is showing.

Why is she so cold to me? Did I do something wrong?

Silence stretches between us, heavy and awkward.

My lord, what's wrong with her? Why can't she even try to form a sentence, at least? Does she like this type of situation? Because I hate it. I hate it so much.