“Because I would have helped you coordinate it properly. Made it safe.”
“I don't want it safe. I want it real.” I picked up the carving knife again. Needed something to do with my hands. “My mother used to bring me here. Taught me that working with wood was honest. That you couldn't lie to it or manipulate it. You either respected the grain or you ruined the piece.”
“She taught you well.”
“She taught me a lot of things. Like how to see people instead of problems. How to make time for things that matter even when the schedule says they don't.” I looked at him. “Skills you might want to learn.”
His eyes flashed. “I see people. I see you risking your life by disappearing without backup. I see you treating protocol like it is joke.”
“Then maybe you're in the wrong job.”
“Maybe I am.” He stepped closer. “But I am here anyway. Trying to keep alive prince who acts like death is inconvenience instead of probability.”
“And I'm here trying to be something more than a target.” I moved toward him. “Trying to prove I'm worth protecting for reasons that have nothing to do with my bloodline.”
“I know you are worth protecting.”
“Do you? Because you look at me and I see calculation. Threat assessment. Variable management. I don't see recognition that I'm a person who might actually know what he's doing.”
“You do not know what you are doing. You know how to carve toys and charm children and skip meetings. You do not know how to stay alive when people want you dead.”
“And you do? You've been here for days. Days. You don't know this palace. Don't know the people in it. Don't know which threats are real and which are theater.” I stepped closer, backing him toward the wall. “You're so busy trying to control everything that you can't see what actually matters.”
“What matters is keeping you breathing.”
“What matters is having a life worth living.” Another step. “What good is breathing if I'm locked in a cage? If every moment is calculated and controlled and safe?”
His back hit the wall. He didn't flinch. Just watched me with those cold eyes that were starting to heat.
“You want to know what I see when I look at you?” I asked.
“No.”
“Too bad. I see someone who's more afraid of failing than I am of dying. Someone who thinks control is the same as safety. Someone who's so busy building walls that he can't see he's suffocating behind them.”
“You do not know anything about me.”
“I know you're hard right now.”
The words landed like a bomb. His eyes widened. Just a fraction. Just enough to confirm it.
I glanced down deliberately. His cock was obvious against his tailored pants. Straining. Unmistakable.
“Interesting,” I said. “Wouldn't have pegged you for someone who gets off on arguments.”
“This is not—” He cut himself off. Jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. “You are being inappropriate.”
“I'm being honest.” I braced my hand against the wall beside his head. Caging him. “Something you might try sometime.”
“Step back.”
“No.” I leaned in. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. “Not until you admit I'm right. That you're so focused on keeping me in line that you haven't stopped to wonder why I keep pushing back.”
“Because you are reckless. Stubborn. Impossible.”
“Because I want you to see me.” The admission came out raw. Unplanned. “Not the prince. Not the assignment. Me.”
His breathing had gone shallow. Fast. “I see you.”
