“And yet here you are,” I say. “Standing in here. Arguing with me. Calling me an asshole.”
A smile tugs at her mouth. “Guess I’ve always had a thing for bad decisions.”
Something warm coils low in my chest.
We stand there, the space between us charged but not hostile. Curious. Intimate in a way that has nothing to do with skin.
“So, you didn’t become King because you wanted power,” she says slowly. “You became one because it was expected of you.”
“Because it was inevitable,” I correct. “Choice is a luxury I’ve rarely had.”
She nods like it makes sense. “That explains a lot.”
“What does?” I ask.
“Why you don’t know how to talk to people without ordering them around.”
I bark out a laugh. “Fair.”
She smiles, and my chest tightens again.
“You still haven’t told me why you need the job,” I say, softer now.
She shakes her head. “Not tonight.”
“Not ever?”
“Maybe. When I know you won’t use it against me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
The air shifts. She steps closer, whether she realizes it or not. Her breath catches, and I feel it like a pull.
My hand lifts, stopping inches from her cheek.
She doesn’t pull away.
Her eyes flick to my mouth, back to my eyes.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers.
“Yes,” I agree.
The distance between us disappears slowly, deliberately.
Her breath ghosts over my lips.
The moment stretches, fragile and electric.
A knock slams into the door.
“King.”
Priam’s voice cuts through the room.
