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I smile. Because this part I enjoy. The moment right before he realizes I’ve already decided how the game goes.

“You’ll come,” I say.

He scoffs, which would be more convincing if his pulse weren’t racing under my hand. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll come find you myself. And then I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

I let that sit for a beat, and his whole body locks while his cheeks go slightly pink. I want to squish them.

“I’m not yours.”

“I already decided you are.”

He pushes at my chest again, and I let him have the inch this time. Just enough to make him think he has control.

“Nine,” I repeat.

His eyes flash. “Go to hell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It isn’t.”

“You’ll still be there.”

“I won’t.”

We stare at each other.

His chest is rising and falling too fast, his eyes furious and so fucking green I could drown in them.

I consider kissing him.

Just to make the flush climb higher and feel him melt against me.

But I hold myself back this time. Instead, I lean in just enough to brush my thumb once over his cheek.

“You’ll come,” I repeat quietly.

Then I step back and unlock the door, pulling it open.

At the threshold, I look back at him. “Nine, princeling. Don’t make me come find you.”

Then I leave before he can throw something.

I can feel his eyes on me the entire way down the hall, burning holes into my spine, and I have to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from turning around and fucking him.

Ilya

I sit at the dining table and pretend I’m listening.

The room is suffocating. My father sits at the head of the table, Alya is on my left, talking to him about something, and my brother is across from me.

Normally I’d pay attention when Alya speaks, but tonight her voice turns into background noise the second my phone vibrates in my pocket.

I already know who it is.

There’s only one person in this entire miserable world who can make my stomach tighten with equal parts rage and anticipation before I’ve even looked at the screen.