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“No need.” Kento stands. “Alya looks exhausted from her busy day. Ilya can show me the way out.”

My heart slams into my ribs. Slowly, helplessly, my chin lifts, and my green eyes clash directly into his black ones.

Kento is looking down at me from across the table. He tilts his head just a fraction of an inch toward the door.

Move, prince.

My father frowns slightly, but doesn’t argue with the Kazuma heir. “Fine. Ilya, escort him to the gates.”

I swallow the lump of iron in my throat, push my chair back, and rise to my feet.

I keep two paces ahead of him. I’m already loading the insult in my head, turning it over. I am ready to snap at him and distract him from those flowers.

I reach the vestibule, two yards from the front doors, and turn to deliver it.

Kento stops before I can get a single syllable out. “Did you burn the flowers?” he asks.

I swallow the knot of glass in my throat.

“Yeah,” I say, letting my voice come out flat and entirely uncaring. “Every single one. Why the fuck would I keep them?”

I wait for the smirk or the arrogant tilt of his chin that usually makes me want to bite his tongue out.

Nothing happens. Kento just stares at me. His eyes don’t narrow like I want them to. They look dull.

He presses his lips together. “Did you hate them?”

The tone knocks the wind out of me. He sounds so… hurt? I don’t have the word for it, but I don’t like it.

“There were too many,” I mumble, my eyes dropping. “There were literally dozens of them.”

“You could have put them somewhere,” he says quietly. He’s never been so quiet before.

“Where?” I look up, my voice spiking. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know what kind of house this is? I’m supposed to explain why there’s a botanical garden sitting in my room?”

“You didn’t have to burn them.”

“I didn’t know where to put them!” The words tear out of me, jagged. I take a half-step back, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I couldn’t move without knocking a vase over.” I lie. I would have kept every single one. I wanted the flowers spilling onto the floor, crowding the furniture, turning my entire fucking world into a garden I could disappear inside.

Kento studies me, then he sighs and reaches inside his jacket. I tense instinctively, my shoulders locking.

His hand comes out closed. He steps forward, takes my right hand, and uses his thumb to press against my knuckles until my fist uncurls.

He drops three lollipops into my palm. “You barely spoke tonight, prince.”

“I was calculating how many seconds it would take to shove a fork through your eye.”

He nods, and fuck, now I want to shoot myself. Why does he have to look so goddamn sad? And why the fuck am I being such an asshole when he hasn’t even done anything to deserve it? Stop. Stop. Stop.

“I missed your voice.”

Before I can say anything back, Kento reaches out. His hand cups the back of my neck, and he bends down, pressing his lips to the very top of my head.

Freeze.

I whip my head sideways, half-expecting my father or four Bratva enforcers with shotguns to round the corner.

“Are you suicidal?!” I hiss. “There are guards outside the gate! My father’s office is thirty feet away!”