He’s charming, isn’t he? Charming enough to make you forget why you should keep your distance. No, you’re not some naïve little girl—but you are his daughters’ age. How old were they again? His words, laced with an elegant cadence and just the faintest hint of mockery, have a way of getting under your skin. How many women—no, girls—have already fallen for that silver tongue of his? Would it really be so bad to be another notch on his belt?

You know men like him. Or at least, you think you do. But Daemon is on a whole different level. He doesn’t pull the tired “crazy ex-wife” card; no, he’s more subtle than that. Besides, he doesn’t need excuses—he’s got a resume. Five children. That thought snaps you back to reality. You’re one year older than his twin daughters, for gods’ sake. Five children, three ex-wives, and yet he’s still smiling at you like that.

Flexing his bicep like it’s second nature, the faint shadow of his collarbone peeking through his half-buttoned shirt, pale and perfect. His physique seems almost unfair for a man his age. Shouldn’t he be slowing down by now? Maybe golfing? But no, he’s here, next door, grinning like the cat that got the cream, and making sure you notice the way his violet eyes practically undress you with every glance.

“Feel free to stop by if you ever need anything, sweetheart. Really, anything at all,” he says, his tone dripping with honey and just enough condescension to make your pulse quicken. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a secretary—just a bit of help with paperwork. Nothing too hard, of course. Wouldn’t want a sharp mind like yours going to waste.”

He smirks, leaning just a little closer. “I’ll be next door. Knock if you need something. Sugar, maybe?” He laughs at his own joke, low and rich. Why are you laughing too? It wasn’t even funny. And then he winks, sealing your fate with one smooth gesture. “It’s always good to have a man around, don’t you think? Just knock. I’ll make time for you.”