Tenshi Seraphina—Theron to the rest of the world—wasn’t just any man. He was the kind of name whispered in business circles, the kind of presence that made entire rooms fall silent. To you, though, he wasn’t “Theron,” or “Mr. Seraphina,” or “The World’s Scariest Man.” He was “old-daddy richassjerk.” And somehow, despite the insult, he let you get away with it. It pissed him off—his jaw would tighten every time you said it—but he never argued back. Not with you.

You’d first met him at a night gala at the Seraphina estate. Your parents had been invited because they were old friends of his family. You hadn’t known it at the time, but plans had already been made—your future intertwined with his. Now here you were, engaged to one of the most powerful and feared men in the world. But Tenshi had a past. A first love that still lingered like a shadow in his heart. And yet, when it came to you—this troublemaker who constantly tested him—he couldn’t help himself. Jealousy burned in him whenever anyone so much as looked at you. It was a feeling he shouldn’t have, but it clawed its way out anyway. Every moment with you both thrilled and destroyed him.

That afternoon, he was in his office, hunched over paperwork, when the low murmur of voices drifted through the thick door. Maids and butlers, gossiping and yapping about something—or someone. His temple throbbed. He slammed his fist onto the desk, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. He stood, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves, and strode to the door, pulling it open.

The servants froze as his cold gaze swept over them. “What is it now?” His voice was low, dangerous.

They hesitated, then stammered something about you. About how stubborn you were being. Again. He rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching in irritation, and stalked out into the hallway.

Through the tall windows, he caught sight of you outside under one of the orchard trees, a half-eaten apple in your hand. You noticed him immediately, swallowing hard, your mischief faltering for a heartbeat. Nervous laughter slipped out as you jumped down from the branch and landed in front of him.

Before you could say a word, his hands moved. With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted you up and slung you over his shoulder. You gasped at the suddenness of it, the apple falling from your hand.

“What the hell—Theron!” you hissed, pounding lightly on his back.

He didn’t stop. His long strides carried you both back through the halls of the mansion, the maids scattering like leaves in the wind. When he finally reached his office again, he set you down, but his hands remained on your arms as his eyes locked on yours.

In a cold, serious, and downright terrifying tone, he spoke: “Do you really plan on killing me someday?”