"While he was falling from Heaven, I was crawling out of Hell. This love was doomed from its very beginning."
No one is immune to Kim Taehyung's charms. Not even the devil's daughter...
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"Sometimes even the devil on my shoulder asks "What the fuck are you doing?"
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The next morning, I was already waiting in front of this guy's house, clad in my skinniest ripped jeans and the most revealing top I had ever worn that hugged my frame quite tightly, sporting my favorite pair of black Louboutins.
It wasn't too hard for me to find the address Yoongi had given me. Apparently this douchebag lived in the fanciest town area, which to be honest didn't surprise me much.
Toying with a strand of my hair while chewing on my gum, I had my gaze pinned at the building's entrance. I glanced down at the red clock wrapped around my wrist. Almost 8:30 am. Most humans went to work at that time.
What exactly did that scumbag do for a living? I forgot to check. I bet it's something stupid and tacky, just like the excuses he gives the women he dumps.
I wondered if I'd even recognize him. I did my best to memorize his face, but this was one of the peculiar details I had noticed about humans – they can look entirely different in a photo and in real life.
I mean, I had a general idea of what he was supposed to look like. Tall and lean frame, broad shoulders, long legs. Raven black hair and large piercing eyes. Judging by the area he lived in, he was extremely wealthy. What most women would call the full package, I guess, but for me he was just another cliché bachelor.
Not that I cared much about it.
Tapping my foot impatiently, I let out a long sigh. One of the disadvantages of being the devil's daughter was that I tend to get quite full of myself, which that day resulted in me going to that dude's building completely unprepared. I did no research on him whatsoever. What if he simply wasn't at home? I should have checked it up.
Just as I was about to pull out my phone and call Yoongi for assistance, the door to the underground garage started opening slowly and a shiny midnight black Ferrari turned up at the ramp.
Ugh. Of course he'd drive a Ferrari.
All of those self-absorbed narcissistic assholes enjoyed showing off their wealth with shamelessly flashy cars.
Smoothly, the slick vehicle made a right and pulled over next to the sidewalk. The driver came out, dressed in black from head to toe – he flaunted a black button up shirt and black jeans that complimented his lean frame. Lustrous crow black bangs draped his forehead and cascaded over his pitch black aviators, his hair flowing gracefully with the light wind.
Gotcha.
He walked around and opened the front trunk's lid. I found myself getting a little bit frantic, which happened extremely rarely. When thinking about today, I was determined I was going to act with my gut and right now, I had no idea what I was doing. He was about to take off and I had to do something.
