Astaroth was so fed up by now that seeing Madison "psychologically dismantle" a demon in every single date filled him with a mixture of dark admiration and a serious possessive urge. Madison was scolding the Seven Princes of Hell like they were clumsy interns at a fashion week, and Astaroth couldn't help but watch the untamable fire in this woman's soul.
He opened the massive, gothic gates of his castle wide. Inside, the most noble—and as yet untraumatized by Madison—bachelor lords of hell were lined up like symbols of prestige. The air in the corridor smelled of thousand-year-old wine and expensive sealing wax.
Astaroth placed his hand a little tighter on Madison's waist, almost like a seal of ownership, and whispered into her ear. His voice was as smooth and dangerous as velvet being dragged across marble.
"Look, Mady, these are your last chances. If you find a flaw in these ones too, if you chop them up with that sharp tongue of yours and come back, the gates of this castle will be locked upon you forever. From that moment on, your only point of contact, the only person you will see, will be me. Do we have a deal?"
Madison gave him a smirk and stared into Astaroth's golden eyes without backing down a single inch.
"Oh, Asti, I can't tell if you're threatening me or making a promise... But I have to admit, staying with you behind locked doors sounds more appealing than these dusty dates. But since we've come this far, let's take a look at these 'defective' goods. Maybe one of them will surprise me, though I highly doubt it."
If "vulgarity" were a person, it would definitely be Lord Mammon.
He wore a jacket cast in solid gold that clinked with every step. On each of his fingers sparkled diamond rings large enough to pay off the foreign debt of a small country. His smile, however, was less dazzling to Madison's eyes and more like the most expensive (and tacky) version of dentistry; every single tooth was plated in diamonds.
This scene was all too familiar to Madison.
This looked like the polar opposite of her ex-boyfriend Tyler, who used to say "My crypto boomed, I'm going to rule the world," but it was really just two sides of the same coin.
Tyler was a penniless bragging machine; Mammon was a walking branch of a central bank.
"Hello, gorgeous," Mammon said. Even his voice sounded metallic and cold, like gold coins clashing together. He held out a box containing a diamond necklace—each stone at least twenty carats—as if he were leaving a tip.
"While Tyler couldn't even buy you a silver bracelet, I promise you all the mines and treasures of hell. If you marry me, you can take that 'Luxury Old Money' aesthetic from Instagram and make it your real life. I'd even plate the stars in the sky in gold for you."
Madison looked at the offered necklace and wrinkled her nose as if she had just eaten a fresh lemon. She adjusted her designer bag on her shoulder and took a step toward Mammon, inspecting him with the precision of an art critic.
"Oh honey, wait a minute! Seriously?" Madison said, her voice echoing through the corridor.
"You are literally the dictionary definition of 'tackiness.' What is with that gold jacket? My eyes are bleeding! Not only is this an assault on my visual taste, it's practically light pollution. Also, you think you can solve everything with money, just like Tyler..."
Mammon's diamond-plated eyebrows shot up in surprise. Madison continued: "He used to brag about 'getting into crypto' and becoming the king of the NFT world, but as soon as the dinner bill arrived, his phone would suddenly ring or he'd have forgotten his wallet in thecar! He always stuck me with the bill. And what if you stuck me with the bill, Mammon? Your soul is poor! You only measure wealth by what you own, but true style is the art of not showing what you don't have to show."
Madison took another dab of her hand sanitizer and cleaned her hands, as if the smell of gold had contaminated her.
"Besides, honey... Gold yellow is so not in this season. We're doing 'Quiet Luxury' now. The era of logos, glitz, and screaming jewelry is over. In our world, if you want to impress a lady, you don't tell her 'look how rich I am'; you offer her the effortless charisma that wealth provides. This look of yours isn't 'Old Money,' it's 'New Demon' tackiness at best. Go on, go melt those diamonds down and get some fillings or something; maybe you'll be more attractive when you keep your mouth shut."
Standing in the background, a faint curl appeared on Astaroth's lips as he watched this demolition operation. Seeing one of the most powerful and arrogant lords of hell declared a "fashion victim" and tossed aside by a petite woman was priceless.
Astaroth stepped back to Madison's side and placed his hand on her shoulder.
While Mammon was still frozen with the box in his hand, Astaroth guided him toward the exit with a gentle but firm movement.
"As you heard, Mammon," Astaroth said, his voice more pleased than ever after Madison's rejection. "Our lady is more interested in aura than glitz. It seems your treasures were a bit... poor compared to her vision of style."
Madison turned to Astaroth and winked.
"Asti, the idea of locking the gates of this castle is starting to make more sense every second. If the next candidate is going to say 'crypto' or something while wearing diamonds, I'll just hand the keys over to you right now."