That was how he wanted to play it.
“If that’s what you want to do, then you’re free to do as you wish,” I replied, jerking my face away so I didn’t have to look into his stupid eyes anymore. “I shan’t stop you.”
“Very well. I’ll do that, then.”
Fine.
Go.
Big fat stupid head.
Kalon hesitated for a moment before straightening up and stepping back. His steps towards the door were slow, almost as if he was expecting me to tell him not to do it, but I kept my gaze trained firmly in the opposite direction.
This was fine.
This was okay.
This was what I wanted after all, right? I wanted him to fall for her so I could break free of this engagement and go and live a long, happy life that didn’t include any death flags for me.
Being involved with this love triangle would only bring me heartache.
There was something about the way Lillia had looked at me that drilled that home for me. She’d smiled, but it was devoid of all warmth, and there’d been a spark of dislike in her gaze that had seemed too deep for it to be just based on a fictional knowledge.
So, Kalon could just go, and—
No.
He couldn’t.
I didn’t want her to have him.
She didn’t deserve him. Maybe I didn’t either, and maybe if I got to my feet right now and tried to stop him, I would regret it later.
But I’d also regret letting him go to her right now.
I jumped to my feet and rushed across the terrace, yanking open the door, only to run right into the same richly adorned jacket that’d been in my face just a moment ago.
“Took you long enough,” he murmured, wrapping one arm around my waist and lifting me off my feet to take me back outside. He reached behind him and closed the doors again, then swept my chair over to them to block the door handles. “Going somewhere, darling?”
“I didn’t… I don’t want you to dance with her.” My voice was muffled against his chest, and my fingers brushed against the soft fabric of his jacket before curling into it, gripping him tightly. “Or talk to her. Or evenlookat her.”
“And what if I did?”
“I might gauge out your eyeballs and sew up your lips so you couldn’t ever again.”
“My, my.” He chuckled in a dangerously sexy way and cupped the back of my neck, sliding his fingers into my hair at the very base of my skull. “It seems like I’m not the only one with a possessive streak, my Allie.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled. “You were being mean.”
“Don’t worry.” He brought his hand from my waist to the tiny space between us and tilted my chin up until our eyes met. “There’s only one woman here that I have eyes for, and it’s not a doe-eyed sycophant. I much prefer someone who’ll blind me if it means I only have eyes for them.”
“You’re making me sound like a psychopath.”
“If you are, then so am I, because I’m the one who likes it.” His lips curved into the tiniest, darkest smile I’d ever seen. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve told you before that I don’t dance at balls.”
“You danced with me.”
“Yes, but you should have realised it by now, darling.” He brushed the tip of his nose over mine, drawing his lips so close I could almost taste him. “I would break imperial law for you. A self-imposed no-dancing rule is nothing. You are my only exception to absolutely everything.”
