Chapter 7: Interrupted Flames

“Let go of me.”

The words slipped out quietly, almost swallowed by the frantic beat of my own heart, and I turned my face aside the moment they left my mouth. I could not bear looking at him while he still held me that way. One of his arms remained locked around my back, the other supporting the base of my neck, keeping me suspended against him as though my attempts at independence meant nothing. What made my embarrassment worse was the simple fact that he did not seem inclined to release me. Instead, he kept me there with infuriating ease, allowing the silence to stretch while my body stayed painfully aware of his nearness.

Every second inside his hold made me more conscious of details I did not want to notice. The warmth coming from him seeped too easily through the thin fabric covering me, and the steadiness in the way he breathed only seemed to emphasize how disordered I had become. I could feel my own pulse rushing wildly inside my chest, and the contrast humiliated me. He looked composed, almost leisurely, while I felt as though my nerves had been tossed into a storm.

The worst part was that he seemed to know exactly what effect he was having.

There was no urgency in him, no sign that this closeness was accidental or inconvenient. If anything, his expression carried a quiet sort of amusement, the kind that suggested he was content to watch me unravel one reaction at a time. That silent patience of his was more disarming than anger would have been. I would have preferred shouting, threats, even cruelty. This unsettling calm left me nowhere to direct my defenses.

Before I could gather enough resolve to force him away again, a bright voice cut through the corridor behind us.

“Well, now this is a sight I was not prepared for. I should have brought wedding gifts.”

My eyes snapped open in horror.

Wedding gifts?

Without thinking, I shoved hard against Reign’s chest. This time he allowed enough space for me to break free, and I stumbled backward so quickly that I nearly lost my balance again. My first instinct was to drag the hem of the oversized white shirt lower over my thighs, as if that could somehow restore the dignity I had just lost.

A man stood near the entrance with his arms spread open and a grin so wide it looked permanently attached to his face. His appearance was jarringly cheerful against the expensive solemnity of the mansion. The Hawaiian shirt covered in loud tropical prints and the khaki shorts made him look less like someone who belonged in this house and more like a tourist who had accidentally wandered into a criminal empire and decided to stay for entertainment.

For a second I could only stare.

He looked far too delighted by my confusion.

“Elliott.”

Reign’s voice came low and cold.

The newcomer only grinned harder.

“Reign,” he answered, striding toward us with shameless enthusiasm. “I have to admit, I expected chaos, but this is much more heartwarming.”

So this devil finally had a name.

Reign.

The name settled unpleasantly in my mind, fitting him far too well.

I had barely finished the thought when Reign moved. His hand closed around my arm and drew me behind him in one swift motion, placing his body between me and Elliott. Before I could protest, his fingers slid down to my hand and threaded through mine. I looked down at once, startled by the intimate ease of it. Our hands remained joined at his side as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and the simple pressure of his palm against mine sent another wave of unwanted awareness through me.

Why he kept touching me as though I belonged near him was something my mind could not yet understand.

“It is obvious why I came,” Elliott continued, though his tone now held the unmistakable glimmer of gossip barely contained. “I only wanted to congratulate you for succe—”

“Shut up.”

Reign did not say it loudly, but the interruption was sharp enough to cut Elliott cleanly in half.

The man lifted both hands in surrender, still smiling, though more carefully now.

I remained behind Reign, half concealed by his broad frame, still trying to ignore the fact that he had not let go of my hand. To distract myself, I let my gaze wander around the corridor. The place looked as though luxury had been given human arrogance and told to decorate itself. Cream walls blended with dark wooden accents, pendant lights glowed softly over polished furniture, and every visible detail carried the kind of precision that only obscene wealth could afford. Even the silence inside the mansion felt expensive.

A trillion dollars suddenly no longer sounded fictional.

“What?”

Reign’s voice sliced through my wandering thoughts.

He had released my hand and turned sharply toward Elliott, and there was something in the sudden tension of his shoulders that made the corridor feel colder.

Elliott’s grin dimmed for the first time. “I am serious. You need to go now before something happens to that girl. If this gets worse, I promise you there is someone who will never let you hear the end of it.”

I frowned.

That girl?

Whoever they were talking about, it clearly mattered enough to change the air around Reign.

“If this is one of your games,” Reign said, each word measured, “I will make sure you regret breathing.”

“It is not a game,” Elliott replied, his voice losing most of its humor. “Go and see.”

Reign stood still for a brief second before turning back to me.

The shift in his expression caught me off guard.

There was impatience there, yes, but beneath it sat something much more troubling, something almost resembling concern. Before I could understand it, he stepped closer and placed both hands on my shoulders. His face lowered until only inches separated us, and all at once every coherent thought I possessed vanished.

He was too close again.

I forgot to breathe.

My body reacted before my mind could form a single sensible objection. Every muscle went rigid, my pulse stumbled, and all I could do was stare at him while he looked into my eyes with unnerving intensity, as though searching for something.

“Thraia,” he called without looking away from me.

A maid answered from behind in a frightened voice.

“Yes, Master?”

“Take her to Letty. I want her cleaned, treated, and dressed before I return.”

The order barely registered because my attention was still trapped in the fact that he had not moved away.

Only when he glanced down did I instinctively follow his gaze and realize I was still wearing nothing but his loose white shirt, my bare legs shamelessly visible beneath it.

Heat flooded my face.

I had been standing here in front of maids, Elliott, and this insufferable man looking half-dressed without even noticing.

Mortification had just begun to settle when I felt something soft touch my forehead.

I froze.

It took me a second to realize that Reign had kissed me.

The contact was brief, almost maddeningly gentle, and because I had expected many things from him but not that, my mind blanked entirely. By the time I looked up, he had already withdrawn. He turned with abrupt urgency, pulling his phone from his pocket as he strode toward the entrance. Elliott hurried after him, still talking, still trying to keep pace, and within moments both men disappeared beyond the doors.

I remained standing exactly where he left me, one hand slowly lifting to my forehead.

Nothing about this man made sense.

He could terrify an entire room, threaten murder without blinking, and then touch me with a gentleness that felt dangerously misplaced.

I was still trapped in that confusion when arms suddenly dropped over my shoulders from behind.

I gasped and spun around, only to find Elliott somehow back again, grinning down at me as though he had been waiting all his life for this opportunity.

“Well,” he said cheerfully, “since the tyrant is gone, I suppose we can start becoming friends.”