Chapter 10

*Laurie*

The moment I stepped inside the dining room, I knew I had walked straight into another one of his games.

The table stretched before me, covered in pristine white linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and an array of dishes that looked straight out of a seven-star restaurant. Everything in his world was a display of power. Even a meal.

I forced my shoulders back, feigning indifference, but my traitorous body had other ideas.

A sharp growl erupted from my stomach, loud enough to break the heavy silence.

I froze.

The moment stretched unbearably, and then—his laughter.

Low. Amusing. And, infuriating.

"Not hungry?" Theron echoed, arching a brow, his smirk deepening as if he had just won something.

Heat flared across my cheeks. I clenched my fists at my sides, willing myself not to react, not to let him see how easily he could get under my skin.

I lifted my chin. “That doesn’t mean I need to eat this,” I said, gesturing towards the food table.

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

"Starving yourself won’t change your circumstances, Cookie,”

I hated how easily the nickname rolled off his tongue, how it made my pulse stutter no matter how much I despised it.

I forced my gaze away, focusing on the food instead. The spread was ridiculous—grilled meats, fresh seafood, an array of vibrant side dishes, and even delicate pastries lined up in neat rows. Every scent tangled in the air, taunting me.

I had barely eaten anything since… Since I made the biggest decision of my life. And I still didn’t know if it was the right one – because he refused to tell me about Rafe.

Theron stepped closer, his presence coiling around me like a trap.

"Sit."

Damn! That tone was a COMMAND. Not a request.

I didn’t move.

His fingers brushed against my lower back, featherlight but firm, guiding me toward the chair. I stiffened at the touch, my instincts screaming to resist, but my body betrayed me again. My muscles were locked in place as I let him push me down into the seat.

Shit girl! You're a coward.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words grazing my skin like wind.

I gritted my teeth. My nails dug into my palms and I bit my lips to stop myself from crying out in pain. I hated that phrase. Hated how easily it sent a shiver down my spine.

He took the seat across me, casual yet commanding, as if this was nothing more than an ordinary meal between civilized people. As if he hadn’t bought me. As if I wasn’t trapped in his world.

A servant appeared at his side, silently pouring a deep red wine into his glass. Theron picked it up, swirling the liquid slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.

"Eat," he said, gesturing to the untouched plate before me.

I hesitated. It wasn’t just about pride. It was about trust. And I didn’t trust him. By now, I should trust him. After all, I had no choice and he had done a bit to prove he could be trusted. But I just... couldn't. He is a stranger.

Theron studied me for a moment, then, without breaking eye contact, he lifted a piece of food from his own plate with his fork and brought it to his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then smirked. The hungry look in his eyes as he gazed down at me was freaking me out!!...

"Satisfied?"

I exhaled sharply, realizing he had caught on to my suspicion.

Shit! This man!! I hate him.

I picked up my fork, stabbing a piece of grilled fish with more force than necessary. The first bite melted on my tongue, rich and seasoned to perfection.

Damn it. It was annoyingly good.

Theron sipped his wine. "See? Not poisoned."

I ignored him and focused on my plate. One bite turned into another, and before I realized it, I had eaten more than I intended. My hunger overpowered my defiance.

Theron, of course, noticed.

"Interesting," he murmured, setting his glass down. "I wonder how long you would’ve lasted if I hadn’t forced you to sit."

I looked up at him. "You didn’t ‘force’ me."

His lips twitched. "No?"

I gripped my fork tighter. "No."

The amusement in his gaze deepened, as if he was toying with the idea of pushing me further just to see how I’d react.

This Bastard! An insufferable, smug bastard!!

I took another bite out of spite, chewing slower, keeping my expression blank.

He spoke again, his baritone voice deceptively sexy and casual. "Do you always work with sapphires?"

The topic shift caught me off guard. My fingers paused around the fork.

He was referring to the piece I had been working on earlier. I hesitated, debating whether to engage, but the question tugged at something familiar.

I swallowed. "I work with all kinds of gemstones."

His gaze remained steady, seemingly interested in the answer. "But you favor sapphires."

I hated that he noticed.

I reached for my water, sipping slowly before answering. "They’re strong and unyielding."

His smug smile returned. "Like you?"

I set the glass down carefully. "Like me."

His fingers tapped against the rim of his wine glass. I couldn't tell what he was thinking by simply glancing at his face.

For a moment, it almost felt like he was considering something, some thought lingering just beneath the surface.

Then, just as quickly, the moment passed.

"Finish eating," he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "You’ll need your strength."

A chill ran down my spine. Fuck! Don't tell me he does what I think he does.