He steps closer, enough that I can smell soap and hotel shampoo under the trace of champagne.
“You’re the one with the clauses,” he says. “You disappear whenI ask to see you, then show up when it fits your schedule and act like I should drop everything on command.”
“So sorry I disrupted your focus,” I say, voice like glass. “Silly me, thinking I was allowed to want you without scheduling it through your coach.”
His jaw tightens. “I needed that focus. That downhill could’ve gone either way, and you know it.”
“What I know,” I say, each word measured, “is that you pushed me away last night because you wanted to be a good boy for your team, and today you had no problem pressing yourself all over the barrier for every girl in an Austrian scarf.”
He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“You think that’s the same thing?” He shakes his head. “Those girls get a picture and a story. That’s all. You—”
“Me what?” I cut in. “I get lectures about discipline while I sneak around behind every reporter who would drag my family name through tabloids with wild pleasure?”
He looks at me then, really looks, eyes narrowing.
“You think you’re the only one taking a risk?” he asks, voice low. “You show up, throw a grenade, and vanish. Everything is on your terms. I’m sick of it.”
“So that’s what this is about,” I say. “Control. You’re upset that you aren’t the one holding the leash.”
“Control?” He barks a humorless laugh. “You really think I’m in control here? You’re just a princess looking for a thrill, Élise.”
The word lands like a slap.
“A thrill,” I repeat. “Of course. That’s all you think this is.”
“If the shoe fits,” he says. “You get bored in your glass castle, slum it with the downhill guy, and then go back to pretending you don’t know my name when Daddy’s in the room.”
The laugh that leaves my throat is sharp and ugly.
“Don’t act offended,” I say. “You should be flattered. To you, I’mjust another trophy to put on your imaginary shelf, proof you can fuck your way into a world where you don’t belong.”
His eyes flash.
“Is this just sex to you,” he asks, stepping closer, “or do you actually give a damn beyond the adrenaline?”
The hallway feels narrower. My pulse is loud in my ears. The honest answer curls up somewhere behind my ribs and refuses to move.
So I reach for the cruel one instead.
“You’re a very pretty hobby, Nico,” I say. “That’s all.”
The instant it’s out, I taste the regret. Bitter on my tongue.
Something in his face shutters.
“You don’t know how to care about anything that isn’t gilded or dangerous,” he says. “Do you?”
“As if you would care about me if I wasn’t both.” My voice shakes, just once. I push past it. “I’m just your glittery toy.”
His mouth twists but I keep pushing.
“You’re just a little thrill I wanted to chase,” I hiss, because if we’re going to do this, we may as well burn it all.
“And you’re an empty trophy I wanted to claim,” he snaps back.
We’re too close. His breath hits my mouth when he speaks, hot and unsteady.
