Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

How could the man he used to be ever say such things? Ever since they met again, he seemed... different.

He was still as domineering and forceful as before, but now there was something else- something unfamiliar-woven into his demeanor.

Warmth.

Could a man like him even comprehend the meaning of that word?

Lost in thought, Irene blinked as Nick lifted a spoon of porridge to her lips. The familiar aroma lingered in the air, stirring a memory she thought she had buried long ago. Did he still remember her preferences?

"Open your mouth." His tone was cold, but if she focused, she could catch a faint trace. of something softer underneath.

"Mr. Coleman, people's tastes change. It's been two years, and I-"

Before she could finish, Nick ate the porridge himself and leaned forward, his face suddenly too close for comfort.

"What are you-"

His lips captured hers in a swift, commanding motion. The warmth of his breath intertwined with the taste of the porridge, stirring something deep inside her.

Damn it. Did he still think she was the woman who let him have his way without question? A chill flickered in Irene's eyes as she shoved him back, her anger simmering beneath the surface.

Nick didn't seem to care. His gaze was calm, almost teasing, as if her resistance amused him.

and deliberate. "If you won't eat, I'll

cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. His audacity still had the power to

the sharp edges of his features. For a fleeting moment, he looked almost approachable, even warm. But Irene knew better-he was

quickening against her will. Damn

it had been before, she would have laughed and leaned into him without hesitation. She would have let her guard down, drawn in

food container from his hands. "Since you're

the distance implied in

that," he said

not? Everyone else calls you Mr. Coleman. What should I call you, then?" Irene's lips curved into a

she wore to keep him from getting too close. He had

I want to hear," he said, his voice softer

Her breath brushed against his ear, warm and deliberate. "Does Mr. Coleman

the sound of his name on her lips stirred something in him. No

with me, Irene," he warned, though his voice lacked its usual edge. She leaned back, her expression unreadable. On the surface, she appeared confident- charming and untouchable, the woman who now ran her own bar and flirted with

she hadn't been

been her first-and

couldn't bring herself to let another man touch her. She

Her heart had been his for far too long, and even though she hated him

her attention back to the food, focusing on each bite as though it might

tightened. "Irene, since you

air, heavy with unspoken emotion. Irene didn't

didn't matter. Whether he was telling the truth or not,

they sat side by side, it felt as though