CH-22

VIN’D POV

The cunning side of me thrived in this moment. I could feel it—every thought, every heartbeat, sharpening my focus. Two birds, one arrow. One touch on that soft, inviting skin, and one exquisite moment of humiliation for her. I let the thought linger, savouring it. A small smirk crept onto my lips. Today, I would play, and she would not even know the rules yet.

I moved my hand slowly, deliberately, tracing the familiar curve and then withdrawing, just to return. Every motion measured. Every brush of my fingers against her skin was a promise, a warning. My heart thumped with the sudden urge to kiss her, to taste her, but I swallowed it. Control was my weapon, and I would not betray it.

Nate prowled beside me, low purrs vibrating in the quiet room. He wanted her. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, to feel her warmth. But he knew he could not. Not when I was here. She was mine.

I let my gaze roam, slow and deliberate. Through the mirror, I watched her—she did not see the predator circling, eyes drilling into prey. I let my hand linger on the zip lock, closing it in painstakingly slow motion. My fingers grazed her skin, just enough to ignite heat without mercy, but my face remained stoic. Stone. Unreadable.

She looked down, hair hiding her face, but I could feel every sharp inhale, every shiver running through her. It was subtle, but I noticed. Torture, slight and delicious, danced between us. I could smell her arousal. It was not subtle. Nate stiffened at the scent, frustrated and powerless, and I allowed myself a quiet satisfaction.

When I finally dropped my hands into my pockets, I let her recover slowly. Her heart thumped audibly, or maybe it was just me hearing it. Her flushed face, eyes darting toward the floor, became a scene I could never tire of. Her vulnerability entertained me as much as it frustrated her.

She rose suddenly, moving toward her bed, picking up her scarf and draping it over her body. Her long chocolate hair fell back into place with careless elegance. Damn. That hair. Every movement was a temptation. One by one, she proved herself a keeper of everything I craved.

She had not turned to face me yet, granting herself a moment alone. I allowed it, standing still, patient—but only because letting her think she had space was part of the game. Then her voice reached me, sharp and not-so-sweet: “Accept my greetings, my king.”

I studied her as she toyed with her scarf. Nervousness? Absolutely. Awareness? Partial. Today, she was unprepared. My presence forced her to confront the storm she could not run from. I smirked. Now or never, princess. And I am the storm you cannot outrun.

The anger that had driven me here had faded, replaced with a darker, hotter fire. Lust and control tangled inside me, tightening with every second. God, this need. This hunger. She has never been like this… never looked like this to me.

She is your mate, my mind said. I did not argue.

Her next words tried to pierce the calm I wore like armour. “Do you need something?”

“Didn’t I say I don’t want to get married, princess?” I stepped closer, voice low, calm, but edged with danger.

Her gaze lifted, sharp and unwavering. She did not answer my question; she answered her desire. And that stirred something dangerous inside me. My anger returned slowly, like a tide, dark and patient.

“Oh? Is that so?” I closed the distance slowly, savouring the subtle tremors that ran through her. Her eyes stayed on the floor, but her body betrayed her—every little shift, every small reaction. I hated it and loved it at the same time.

I lifted her chin with one finger. Our eyes locked. Her gaze sparkled with mischief, cunning that could almost rival mine. Does she think she is winning? How naïve.

“You’ve done nothing for yourself by stepping into my world, princess,” I whispered, close enough that her breath brushed my lips. My lips tilted slightly, teasing, almost betraying the heat I held inside. I restrained it. Control was mine. Always.

Then, carefully, I pressed my lips to the tip of her nose. Her body jerked, a small gasp escaping her. Nate nudged me, impatient to act, but I held, savouring the tension, letting it stretch between us like a living thing.

Gulping hard, she instantly recovered from her daze while her eyes again locked with mine.

Perhaps I just loved being the reason for her flushed state.

Giving her a last look, I turned to walk out but stopped when I heard her: “Ahem, my king, gentlemen always knock and come.” She mocked me in an extremely polite way.

If any other girl had said this, I might have admired her—but this girl was a sly fox.

“Gentlemen, not your men, Princess. I do not need to knock to come into MY WOMEN’s chamber. Perhaps next time, you better lock it, as I might not like anyone seeing what is only reserved for my eyes. Because if something like this happens again, I will be anything but gentle.”

Saying this, I walked out without looking back at her.

I left her there, flushed, aware, unsettled, my presence still lingering like smoke in the air. She had stepped into my world, but she had no idea how deep, how dark, how consuming it would be.

**

Ch-23

Gia’s POV

Vincenzo left the hall immediately after the ceremony, and I knew exactly why. His sour mood was impossible to miss, and yet, while I had expected it, the sting of his indifference still pricked sharply. This new beginning, this arrangement—he treated it with cold disregard.

Could I complain? Could I voice my frustration when I already knew that his behaviour was inevitable, perhaps even worse than I feared? He had never liked this, and he proved it in the first hour.

My eyes stung with dejection, but my resolve remained unshaken.

Brother had warned me long ago: if I wanted Vincenzo in my life, I would have to walk on thorns and fire. And his ignorance—his icy, unyielding ignorance—was the first blaze. The first cut that sears the heart when you tread the flames.

“Gia, now that you are both engaged, I’d like you to receive the blessings of our Moon Goddess. Why don’t you get ready? If we leave immediately, we will be back by dinner,” Nanny’s gentle voice brought me out of my reverie. I looked at her, nodded, and forced a smile.

“Can’t we go like this?” I asked, glancing down at my dress. It was simple, decent enough for the temple, nothing extravagant.

Nanny’s explanation came in full dramatic force: as the future daughter-in-law of the royal family, I could not just walk around casually. I bit back an eye roll and nodded again, conceding.

Sister-in-law smirked at my discomfort, but Nanny’s next words made me smirk too.

“My queen, you should change as well. And both of you—wear something nice.”

I almost giggled at the scrunch of irritation on Sister-in-law’s nose.

Then a thought struck me. “Nanny, I did not bring many clothes. Only a few casuals,” I admitted honestly. Things had moved so fast, I had not imagined needing ceremonial attire already.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Vincenzo’s mother said warmly. Relief flooded me. “Go to your room; I’ll send some clothes for you.”

“And do not mind Nanny—she exaggerates. Wear whatever makes you comfortable,” Luna added, smiling. I laughed softly at Nanny’s shocked expression. She was cute, in her own dramatic way.

As I walked toward my room, Sister-in-law’s voice stopped me. “Gia, I have changed your room. Now it is next to Vincenzo’s.”

My cheeks flared hotter than a fever—like never before. The warmth in my face spread in waves, threatening to consume me.

“Come, let me show you.” She led the way, and I followed, head down, heart thundering.

Had we just gotten engaged an hour ago? And already she had moved mountains to place my room next to Vincenzo’s? Thoughtful, considerate… and yet, the blush rising in my chest told me that something inside me was shifting.

‘Why am I suddenly feeling so… shy?’ I wondered. I was not like this—at least, I did not think I was.

Sister-in-law left after showing me the room. Moments later, there was a knock, and two ladies entered with a covered tray. Vincenzo’s mother had sent ceremonial attire.

I examined it all, my face contorting in silent horror. ‘How am I supposed to carry this much jewellery without breaking my spine—or something else?’

Finally, I picked the lightest dress: a beautiful skirt paired with an open-back blouse, held together by just two delicate strings. Perfect fit. With no delay, I got ready, and the ladies finished the rest, dolling me up for the temple.

The journey there and back was surprisingly fun. The women of the house were lovely, ensuring I was comfortable at every step. Royals often had a reputation for arrogance—but touchwood, my future family was nothing like that. Not a trace.

Returning home, we went straight to the dining room. The men of the family had already eaten, leaving us in an intimate, quiet space. I wanted to know where Vincenzo was but dared not voice the question. Manners, after all, still mattered.

After dinner, I retired to my room. Two ladies came again to help me with the jewellery—bless them, I needed every bit of help I could get. These locks, clasps, and chains felt like intricate puzzles. I half-joked that I might need a detective to figure them out.

I felt like a walking jewellery shop.

“Can you please put everything back in the boxes?” I asked one of them. Vincenzo’s mother had been sweet, sending these items, but I had to return them in pristine condition.

While one lady tidied the jewellery, the other worked on my hair—long, stubborn, tangling itself endlessly. Sometimes I hated it. I vowed to cut it short at the first opportunity.

Sitting at the mirror, I fidgeted with a golden anklet—light, elegant, my favourite. I was about to play my favourite song when a voice cut sharply through the air.

“Leave.”

The word froze me.

A sudden heaviness filled the room. I knew that voice. My heart began to race. Every beat thundered in my chest as if it might escape my body.

Nervousness coursed through my veins, a strange sweetness mingling with the fear. I was rooted to the spot, my mind screaming, my body betraying me with anticipation.

I knew I had to face him. Today, or tomorrow—but certainly now. And I was not ready.

And then I saw him.

Only us in the room.

I caught his reflection in the mirror. He stood there—hot, dangerous, impossible. His eyes pierced me, looking straight into my soul. My breath hitched.

I had never felt this way before. Men had approached me, flattered me, even courted me. I had been confident, unshakable. But him? His presence unravelled that certainty, turning it to molten vulnerability.

I tried to steady myself. ‘Get a grip. Get a grip.’ I repeated the mantra in my head, but before I could regain control, I felt his touch.

It was warm. Deliberate. Igniting a fire where it should not have been. Goosebumps raced across my skin. I was on edge, yet unable to retreat.

His fingers traced from my back downward, slow, intentional. My body responded in ways I had not anticipated. Every nerve screamed, every heartbeat thumped louder than the last.

My eyes locked on his, mind spinning, heart betraying me with desire. I felt the tension between us—a charged, dangerous electricity that made the room unbearably hot.

I swallowed hard, throat dry, and yet… I was drawn to it. To him. To this magnetic, impossible, intoxicating force that was Vincenzo.

The sexual tension in the room was not subtle. I was not denying it. And truthfully? I was not entirely unwilling.