Trapped by the Devilish King

The night breeze was gentle, neon lights flickering like stars.

Still holding onto the address her bestie gave her, Camila Harrington hopped in a cab straight to Meridia's busiest commercial hub.

She got out in front of the Imperial Crest Hotel-seriously high-end, luxury every inch, the kind of place where only the ultra-rich could afford to hang out.

After paying the fare, Camila took a deep breath at the entrance before making her way inside the ridiculously fancy six-star hotel.

She took the elevator straight up to suite 3288 on the top floor.

Room 3288-aka, the presidential suite at the very top of Imperial Crest's 32nd floor. Over-the-top luxury packed with taste.

It wasn't just expensive, it was invitation-only. Even billionaires couldn't just book their way in.

Soft music played in the suite, flowing like a slow stream.

On the couch, a man with long legs casually crossed sat like he owned the place-tall, lean, every inch lounging into the plush cushions.

The lighting hit his face just right, deep set features, sharp lines, absurdly good-looking. Honestly, it was almost unfair-like someone hit jackpot on the "perfect face" generator.

He sat there without moving, relaxed but commanding. Those long, narrow eyes had this cold, bottomless look, like staring into some dark ocean. One glance and you could feel the pressure. The man radiated "don't-mess-with-me" energy.

Across from him, a couple of guys in tailored suits stood stiff as boards. They looked like kids about to get scolded, all nervous glances and not one having the guts to make eye contact with the guy on the couch.

Outside the door, Camila had just arrived.

She hesitated, debating how to step in-only to realize the guy hadn't even bothered to lock the door.

A sliver of light spilled through the gap. The music drifting out only made it weirder.

Camila frowned. Who the hell sets up a hook-up and doesn't even lock the damn door? She let out a slow breath and reached to push it open.

"Bang!"

That loud thud broke the ice-cold tension inside the suite like a hammer. All heads turned toward her.

Camila's gaze zeroed in on the guy on the couch. That had to be the scumbag she came to call out.

Without missing a beat, she marched up to him and launched right in: "Wow. Just wow. Kendall's way too good for you, and you're out here screwing around? What kind of garbage human does that? You reek of bad decisions. Honestly, people like you shouldn't be allowed within ten feet of a relationship. Stay single. Forever!"

The men in suits looked like they'd seen a ghost. Mouths hung open.

Who was this woman? And why on earth was she yelling at the BOSS like that?

Was she legit crazy? No way-she had to be the first person ever to go off like this in front of him.

The guy on the couch didn't even blink. He just turned his icy gaze her way, smirk tugging at his lips.

"Who let the lunatic in? Get her out."

His voice was low and smooth, full of that dark charisma that made people instinctively back off.

Camila's eyes widened. Okay, not what she expected. The guy was... ridiculously attractive. Looks and vibe both off the charts.

But then she remembered Kendall's tearful call from just thirty minutes ago and boom-rage mode back on. No matter how hot he was, a jerk was still a jerk.

She pointed right at him. "Lunatic? No. That's you. You cheat and act like you're in the right? I've seen trashy, but you take it to another level. No shame, no morals... One day that karma's coming for you. Poor Kendall, falling for you was the unluckiest thing that ever happened to her."

Silence.

Not just quiet-dead quiet.

The entire massive suite felt frozen. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

Prescott Ellington sat on the couch with narrowed eyes, his face cold as ice. His tall figure suddenly loomed over Camila, the pressure practically suffocating.

"Say that again if you've got the guts."

Stuck under his shadow, Camila could feel her breath fill with his unfamiliar, icy scent. She instinctively backed up, heart pounding out of control. She completely lost her earlier fire under his severe presence.

"I-I wasn't wrong... You clearly-"

Before she could finish, Camila realized something was off. Her face stiffened slightly as her dark, lively eyes scanned the room.

The spacious suite held no other women-just a few sharply dressed men off to the side, all staring at her wide-eyed, looking like she'd just dropped a bomb.

Even if she were clueless, she'd know by now-she'd messed up big time. Seriously, what the hell was she thinking yelling at the wrong guy? And Camila wasn't even the clueless type.

Her expression froze in awkwardness. She totally embarrassed herself, jumping in without checking anything first. Stupid alcohol. She really needed to stop drinking-it only caused problems.

"Um... sorry, I think I barged into the wrong room... My bad, I'll leave right now!"

She forced an awkward smile and turned to go, but just as she took a step, a firm hand grabbed her wrist.

"Say your piece and just walk off? You think things work that easy in the real world?"

He looked down at her, voice cold and low, the kind that brings a storm with it. Nothing about him felt safe.

"Ouch, let go... you're hurting me!"

Camila struggled to break free, but the strength difference was obvious. No matter how hard she tried, that hand clamped down on her like steel.

Her mind raced, panic threatening to take over, but she forced herself to stay calm. She looked up, her clear gaze filled with remorse as she met his sharp eyes.

"It was my fault just now. I apologize. I'm sorry. Could you... would you mind letting go?"

Prescott didn't budge. His eyes, cold and deep, scanned her from top to bottom.

No doubt, the woman in front of him was gorgeous-skin flawless and smooth, features delicate, that perfectly shaped figure, and long, silky black hair down her back. Classic beauty. But still, there was something lazy and cool about her vibe, a little contradictory, but somehow all of it made sense on her.

Yet he didn't show the slightest hint of mercy. Instead, his grip on her ivory wrist tightened.

"Talk. Who are you? Who sent you?"

Her eyes... they looked too damn familiar. If her face had been covered, and only those eyes were visible, he might've really believed she was that person from his past...

Coincidence? He didn't buy it. The world's big, sure-but not that big.

"...Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about... ah!"

Camila gasped as pain shot up her arm. Her face turned pale, brows furrowed, sucking in breaths to deal with it.

He was gripping way too hard-she was starting to think her bones might actually snap.

Wait a sec... did he mistake her for someone else?

Judging by the intense, dangerous look in his eyes, she was sure-if her answers didn't satisfy him, this guy wasn't letting her off the hook.

And judging from the tone of his voice, he meant every word.

So... what now?

Prescott caught the flicker in her eyes, and it didn't take a genius to figure out she was clearly up to something. He curled his lips into a faint, mocking smile.

"I'll ask just one more time. Answer me, or else..."

His cold warning hung low in the air, sharp as a knife.

Camila was already sweating bullets. She bit her lip, trying hard to keep her cool.

"It's a misunderstanding-really! I was supposed to help my friend catch her cheating boyfriend, but I walked into the wrong room. I thought you were the jerk. I swear, I didn't lie. Not a word! I'm sorry I yelled at you-I mean it. I genuinely apologize, sir. I'm not here on anyone's orders. I didn't even know who you were before tonight..."

Prescott didn't say a word. His dark, ice-cold eyes stared her down like he was peeling her soul apart.

That gaze made her chest tighten. It was like he could see straight through every layer of her, and it left her rattled.

They were standing too close-so close, in fact, that the light scent on her skin mixed with a faint trace of alcohol hit him head-on. His sharp eyes narrowed even more.

She'd clearly been drinking. But was that weird behavior just liquid courage? Or was she putting on an act?

The tension between them got real thick real fast. The room was dead quiet. You could hear every breath.

Camila was stiff as a board. Twenty years of her life and this was the first time she'd ever been this close to a random guy-and it showed. She was clearly uncomfortable.

She shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but that only made things worse. Her movement looked suspicious in Prescott's eyes.

His expression darkened. Before she had time to react, he grabbed her wrists, twisted them behind her back, and pushed her around, pressing her down with force.

"You're brushing off my warning? Alright then-some people only learn the hard way."

His voice was low and icy, like a warning straight out of a nightmare-chilling and dangerous.

"I-I didn't mean to..."Camila jolted, frozen by the chilling intensity in the man's gaze-and even more mortified by how close he'd pressed up against her. The raw masculine presence surrounding her made her cheeks flush bright red.

Even the sharp, steady beat of his powerful heartbeat echoed against the silence around them, each pulse pounding against her back, making her involuntarily tremble.

Camila started struggling hard. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with this guy? Who did he think she was? How could he get this touchy-feely, this flirty, without warning?

Suddenly, a hand clamped down tightly on her waist, stopping her every move. "Don't move," he said.

His voice was rough, low, and thick with a heat that didn't belong here, brushing against her ear like a spark. She didn't need any experience to know this reaction from Prescott was very... wrong.

The color instantly drained from her face.

Burning with shame and anger, she bit down hard on her lip, her voice shaking with fury. "Let me go, you... you pervert!"

"Oh, I'm the pervert?" Prescott let her go, face dark and unreadable. "Aren't you the one trying to seduce me?"

His voice was icy, like razor-edged frost. But inside, he was rattled.

For the past two years, he'd been completely indifferent to any kind of lust. No matter how seductive the women got, he'd stayed cold, untouched.

Even stranger, the changes in his body over the last six months had been bothering him to no end. And now, totally unexpected, this random woman had managed to light a fire with just one accidental touch.

Prescott's eyes dropped to Camila, scanning her deeply.

His gaze caught on her slightly open neckline, and what it revealed stopped him cold. Her skin was snowy smooth, glowing subtly under the light. Her slender neck, the soft dip of her collarbone leading to hints of generous curves - framed by her long, dark hair falling over both shoulders - the whole picture had this innocent allure that somehow hit him in all the wrong ways.

The more he looked, the harder it became to tear his eyes away. His throat dried up, and that barely contained fire inside him surged hotter.

There was no doubt - this strangely familiar-eyed woman had somehow unlocked a side of him long asleep.

And maybe, just maybe, she was the key to figuring out what the hell had been going on with him lately.

Whether she truly didn't know who he was, or was just putting on an act, didn't matter now.

He had no plans to let her walk away that easily.