Chapter 19: The Signs Of Jealousy?

"It's me, Miss," a familiar voice rang out from the other side of the door. Rose immediately recognized it—it was the kind maid who had helped with her luggage yesterday.

"May I come in, Miss?" the maid's voice broke through Rose's swirling thoughts again.

"Yes, you may," Rose replied, pulling her blanket up to cover herself from the chest down.

The maid entered swiftly after Rose gave her consent, but she wasn't alone. A train of workers followed, carrying trays laden with food—trays filled with her favorite dishes.

How was that possible? Rose hadn't told anyone about her preferences.

Her stomach churned with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity as she watched the workers carefully place the trays down.

The maid gestured for the others to leave once everything was in order. Rose observed her closely—how she commanded the other workers with ease.

It was clear she wasn't just any maid; she had to be the head of the staff.

But she looked so young. Then again, Rose reminded herself, looks meant nothing in this world.

She was dealing with an elf, after all, and elves aged slowly. Here, someone appearing to be in their twenties could easily have lived for thousands of years.

The only beings whose appearances aligned with their age were humans.

"Miss?" the maid's voice broke through Rose's trance. The elf had a confused expression now, clearly perturbed by Rose's extended silence and unblinking stare.

"Ah," Rose cleared her throat, realizing she'd been staring too long. "Who told you to make all this?" Her curiosity was evident as her eyes flicked between the maid and the spread of food.

"Ah, we didn't make this, Miss," the maid said with a small smile.

"Then who did?" Rose asked, her brow furrowing.

"Our master did," the maid replied simply, still smiling.

"The demon!?" Rose exclaimed, her voice laced with disbelief. That man had gone into the kitchen to prepare all this?

Where on earth had he learned to cook? And did he even sleep? "I could never..." Rose muttered in stunned disbelief, her gaze returning to the food.

The maid still stood nearby, clearly awaiting dismissal. Rose glanced up, intending to thank her and send her away, but the look on the maid's face stopped her.

"What? Isn't he a demon?" Rose blurted, seizing the opportunity to satisfy her burning curiosity about exactly what Lucifer was.

The maid hesitated, her elf ears twitching nervously. "Er, Miss, he is a demon," she began, her voice tentative. "It's just that..."

Before she could finish, a deep, husky voice interrupted, cutting through the air like a blade.

"That's enough. You can leave now," Lucifer's commanding tone made both Rose and the elf jump.

The maid, who had been speaking calmly moments ago, visibly shook as she hurried out of the room without another word.

"Wait!" Rose called after her, but the maid was already gone. Frustrated, Rose turned her attention back to Lucifer, her heart pounding. Where had this man come from so suddenly?

"What are you doing here?" Rose demanded, her voice sharper than intended. The smirk curling Lucifer's lips sent shivers racing down her spine, making it clear he knew exactly how to unnerve her.

"And how the hell did you get in here?" Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of incredulity sparking. How could someone this large, this commanding, slip into her room unnoticed?

Lucifer tilted his head, his fiery red hair catching the faint light like molten embers, and began uncuffing his suit.

"This house belongs to me, love," he murmured, his deep voice laced with possession.

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, then another, his powerful frame closing the distance between them.

The tattoos spiraling up his neck and disappearing beneath the pristine white shirt seemed to pulse, adding an air of danger that made Rose's throat go dry.

"Every soul in this building, every inch of it... belongs to me." He sank onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight.

Fuck. He was close again—too close. His heat seemed to envelop her, his intoxicating scent clouding her thoughts. Why did her body always betray her whenever he came near?

"W-what do you want?" she managed, clearing her throat in a futile attempt to steady herself.

She straightened her posture and forced herself to meet his intense gaze, the glowing red of his eyes pinning her in place.

"What do I want?" Lucifer echoed, his lips twitching into a dangerous smile.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached for a plate, cutting a bite of rich, creamy cheesecake. Holding the fork up, he brought it toward her lips.

"Don't I have the right to see my woman?" His words were calm, but the undercurrent of dominance in his tone sent Rose's pulse skyrocketing.

His woman? The audacity of this man. She didn't belong to anyone, least of all him.

But the way his eyes bore into her left her momentarily paralyzed, her mind spinning in defiance and something else she didn't want to name.

"Eat," he urged, his gaze flicking between the food and her. Rose swallowed hard, her rebellious nature battling against the tension in the room.

His patience was unwavering, his fiery eyes silently commanding her compliance.

Reluctantly, she leaned forward, letting the fork brush her lips as she took the bite.

The taste was divine, but her focus remained on Lucifer, whose smirk deepened as he watched her.

"You know," he murmured, his voice softer now, "you look adorable with your hair like this."

His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of her white locks aside, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

Rose stiffened, mortified as his words registered.

Her disheveled hair? Cute? Did he not realize how ridiculous she looked? And to make matters worse, the workers had seen her like this too. Fantastic.

"I'm not your woman," she shot back, hoping her sharp retort would cut through the haze of tension.

Lucifer's smirk faltered, and for a moment, his expression darkened. "Yes, yes, you're not," he said, his tone shifting to something more dangerous, more bitter.

"Of course, you wouldn't want a man like me," he continued, his voice dropping, each word laced with simmering anger.

He set the fork down carefully, the calmness of the gesture at odds with the storm brewing in his red eyes.

"Because you'd never risk running from your home, late at night, for someone like me."

The accusation struck like a whip, and Rose's eyes widened. Confusion flickered across her features, but then it hit her. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You'd rather do that for a vampire." His voice dipped into a low growl, the sound almost primal, as his gaze locked onto hers, unrelenting.

"Isn't that right, Rosa?" The use of her name, the way it rolled off his tongue with a venomous edge, sent a chill down her spine.

His eyes seemed to darken, a flicker of something untamed and furious glinting in their depths.