Malum tilted his head, his silver eyes narrowing faintly. “You’re assuming I know how to act like a man in love.” He loathed being uncertain about anything.
Her brows drew together, curiosity flickering across her face. “Don’t you?”
“Not particularly,” he replied, but his jaw was tight. “Public displays of affection weren’t part of our upbringing.” He left it at that, though the memories pricked at him—memories of his parents circling each other like wary predators, expressing emotions with cutting remarks.
He shifted his weight, letting a faint smirk tug at his lips. “I know… uncomplicated arrangements. Pretending to be besotted in front of a crowd? That’s uncharted territory.”
She didn’t press, but her thoughtful gaze lingered, and Malum could almost feel her trying to piece him together. Heheld her stare for a beat longer than necessary, then glanced away, brushing a nonexistent speck from his cuff. Whatever conclusions she reached, they were hers to keep.
This was her idea, after all.
Malum waited, half expecting her to ask the questions he’d deliberately left unanswered. But instead, she cleared her throat and jumped right into what he could only describe as instructions.
“A couple will always look for each other when they’re in the same room, even if they cannot be near one another.”
Impressive, he thought, leaning back slightly as he studied her. His betrothed—his temporary betrothed—had an uncanny ability to shift gears when it mattered.
No dramatics, no fluttering. Just a quiet determination that had him listening more closely than he cared to admit.
Her gaze shifted away as if gathering her thoughts before meeting his again. “And there are other gestures, subtle ones,” she said. “When you take my arm, draw me closer than necessary. When I speak, you’ll want to lean down, as though you can’t bear to miss a single word I say.” She blushed a little after this.
Malum nodded. He could manage that. In fact, when taking her out in public, he was inclined to keep an eye on her, to keep her close, anyway—especially if anyone thought to engage her in conversation in a way that might unsettle her. She conversed with him just fine, but not with everyone—for reasons he was determined to flesh out eventually.
Nothing she was saying sounded impossible—or disagreeable. He could, in fact, imagine himself playing this part.
“You’re very knowledgeable on this subject,” he said. He studied her, the delicate rise and fall of her breath, the way her lashes cast shadows across her cheeks.
“As you well know, two of my siblings married for love.” She blinked. “And my parents loved each other. Very much.”
Two weeks ago, Malum might have responded to such a statement by offering his sympathy—that anyone would have to endure such romantic displays regularly.
But instead, her words tugged at something unfamiliar, an ache he neither welcomed nor understood. “What else?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
“We must maintain this façade at all times, even if—no,especiallyif it seems no one is watching,” she continued, “because they will be—watching, that is. And that’s our opportunity to leave the strongest impression.”
“And you think,” Malum said, “you and I can master these subtleties?”
Melanie’s eyes lifted to meet his, searching his face. For a moment, the silence was thick, charged with something that felt stronger than simple attraction.
“I think,” she said, her tone barely above a whisper, “that if we pay attention to one another… it might not be as difficult as it seems.”
“Attention,” he echoed, the word settling with unexpected weight—because that was what this all came down to, ultimately. Already, she had captured much of his these past few weeks.
“Yes.” The single word lingered in the space between them.
Malum prided himself on reserving his attention for things that mattered—calculating, precise, and always with purpose. His focus typically revolved around theDomusor his mission to bring the Duke of Crossings to justice. What Melanie was suggesting, however, felt entirely different. This wasn’t strategy; it was something far more unsettling.
It felt… personal.
When he lifted his hand this time, he reached out without hesitation, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Thetouch was light, almost hesitant, as he was almost shaken by the sudden heat.
She might be innocent, but the look in her eyes was quite the opposite.
They stood inside a room where countless individuals had yielded to temptation, cast aside pretense, and indulged their deepest desires—and then walked away without feeling even an ounce of guilt.
But this had never been about what he wanted.
Hell, she had even confessed her belief in love, a sentiment that stood in stark contrast to every aspect of his life.
