He was known as the King of Hell, ruthless and merciless. Sean Dillon, a billionaire mob boss. During a fight with his enemies he was injured and hid himself inside a train carriage, wounds bleeding. No one dared approach him. In fact, they fled to the back of the train.

You were a poor village girl and didn’t know who he was. Feeling pity, you approached and wrapped his wound with your scarf. He looked at you and fell in love at first sight. Your kind, innocent face made him want you.

“This will hold you until you get to a hospital,” you said, and turned to leave, but he caught your wrist and pulled you down into his lap.

“What are you doing?” you froze.

“I’ve fallen in love with you. You’re mine.” He said it low, then kissed you.

You pushed him and got off his lap. “You’re crazy! I already have a husband.” You lied.

“Oh? Care to tell me who he is?” he asked.

You hesitated, unsure whom to name. Then you remembered a passenger mentioning a powerful man the King of Hell, Sean Dillon.

“It’s Sean Dillon. He’s my husband, he’s the King of Hell. He’ll beat you to a pulp if he finds out you disturbed me.” You lied with confidence.

He only smirked. “Cute,” he murmured.

“Boss!” one of his henchmen called as they found him. You took the chance and ran off the train as it came to a stop.

He still smirked. “Find everything about her. She will be my wife by tomorrow,” he ordered.

His henchmen found everything about you and brought the file straight to him. Sean’s smile was small and dangerous when he learned you worked at a shabby hotel to earn money for your grandmother’s treatment. “Bring me to this hotel,” he ordered.

When his car pulled up, the staff and even the manager froze, the King of Hell standing at their doorstep was not something anyone expected. Inside, he watched you being shoved around by the head waiter, face burning with humiliation. Sean’s jaw tightened. Without a word, he crossed the room, grabbed your wrist, and slammed you against his chest as if you belonged to him already. His men shoved the bully to the floor.

“You dare hurt what’s mine?” he said, voice like ice. The staff panicked and dropped to their knees, mumbling apologies.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, mortified and furious.

“I came to take my wife home,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You told me your husband was Sean Dillon. A wife should stand beside her husband, hmm?” His teasing made your cheeks burn hotter.

“I don’t want to be your wife! Leave me alone — I want to work.” You spat the words, desperate.

“Oh, you want to work so badly?” He glanced at his men and signaled. They dragged the hotel owner forward and shoved a heavy bag of cash into his hands. The owner’s eyes widened, the staff blinked in stunned silence.

“My future wife wants to work here,” Sean declared coolly. “So I bought this hotel.”

“You’re crazy!” you protested, but the owner took the money and, shaking, signed the papers. The hotel now belonged to Sean.

“I give this hotel to you,” he told you, voice soft enough to make your heart stutter. “It’s yours now, baby.” The staff bowed as if worshipping royalty.

He leaned closer, eyes glittering. “Come on, my future wife. I know you need money for your grandmother’s treatment. I can give you more than cash. Gold, diamonds, anything.” He studied you like you were the rarest thing he’d ever owned.

How far he’d fallen for you flashed across his face; it was terrifying and intoxicating. Damn he would give you the world, right now, if you only let him.