A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 42 - 41

Chapter 42: Chapter 41

He finally moved, sinking into the lone chair in his chamber—not even really sitting, more like lounging, sprawled out like he owned the world and everything in it. His gaze still pinned me in place as he leaned back, one arm draped over the side of the chair with a lazy arrogance that made me want to roll my eyes. Meanwhile, I was left standing there, awkward and exposed, like some specter who had wandered in from another life and didn’t quite belong.

Seconds dragged on, stretching into minutes, the silence in the room growing thick and uncomfortable. He seemed in no rush, simply watching me with that smug expression of his, a slight tilt to his lips that bordered on a smirk. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, willing myself not to break the silence first, not to let him know just how unnerving he was. But that familiar, infuriating glint in his eyes told me he already knew. He always did.

By the time nearly an hour had slipped by, I was practically vibrating with tension, biting back every insult and curse that wanted to spill from my lips. And just when I thought I might actually explode from the pent-up frustration, he finally raised an eyebrow and spoke, his voice as calm and casual as if we had been having tea.

"Are you not going to sit, then?" he drawled, his tone maddeningly polite, like he hadn’t just left me standing there for nearly an hour. Like he was genuinely surprised I was still standing.

I could practically feel my hands itching to clench into fists, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral, my voice steady. "And where, exactly, would you have me sit, Your Majesty?" I asked, keeping the tone as formal as I could manage, though I was pretty sure he could still hear the edge in my words.

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, he simply looked at me, as if savoring the little bit of irritation he could detect. Then, without missing a beat, he leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over me with a lazy, predatory look that made my skin crawl in the worst and most confusing way.

"Well..." he began, voice dropping to a murmur that somehow seemed to fill the whole room, "there is always... here." He tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked down, patting his pointing finger on his face like it was the most obvious choice in the world. "Why not take a seat on my face?"

I felt my stomach drop, heat rising in my cheeks so fast it was dizzying. Of all the things I had expected him to say, that certainly hadn’t been one of them. My jaw clenched, a sharp retort ready to burst out of me, but I bit it back, swallowing down the wave of embarrassment and anger that threatened to spill over.

Keeping my expression as calm as I could, I replied, "With all due respect, Your Majesty, that doesn’t seem... appropriate." I kept my tone formal, hoping to convey some semblance of dignity, even as his eyes sparkled with that insufferable amusement.

He just chuckled softly, leaning back again, clearly entertained by my reaction. "Oh? And what’s the harm in a little... proximity?" His voice was a lazy purr, the words dripping with that infuriating mixture of humor and challenge. He knew exactly what he was doing, of course. Every part of his body language, every slight curve of his lips—it was all deliberate, designed to get a rise out of me.

I bit the inside of my cheek, barely able to keep my composure. "I’ll stand, thank you," I said, voice as polite as I could make it, though I could feel the strain in my tone.

"Suit yourself," he replied with a nonchalant shrug, looking as relaxed as ever. He stretched, crossing his legs in a way that seemed almost exaggerated, as if to remind me just how comfortable he was while I remained standing like a fool. The satisfaction in his eyes only grew as he watched me, relishing the discomfort he was causing.

The seconds ticked by, each one a little heavier than the last, until the silence in the room felt almost unbearable. My mind raced, part of me wanting to throw decorum out the window and just walk out, and yet, another part of me—the part that hated how he always seemed to get under my skin—wanted to stay, to prove that I wasn’t as easily rattled as he seemed to think.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to speak, even as my voice came out a little tighter than I would have liked. "Was there something you needed from me, Your Majesty?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something remotely normal, something that didn’t make my skin prickle with irritation.

"Oh, there’s plenty I could need from you," he replied smoothly, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. But there was a glint in his eyes, a sharp, dark edge that made my stomach twist in knots. "But I’m afraid you’re not exactly... in the mood for the sort of needs I have in mind."

I gritted my teeth, willing myself not to react, not to give him the satisfaction. He was baiting me, that much was obvious. But that didn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that flared up in my cheeks or the way my pulse quickened in frustration.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head in a leisurely manner, his gaze never leaving mine. "Tell me," he said softly, almost thoughtfully, "why do you think I summoned you to my chamber?"

I swallowed, doing my best to maintain a steady tone. "I couldn’t say, Your Majesty," I replied, keeping my gaze fixed just above his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, low and dark, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh, I think you have some idea," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "After all, you’ve been waiting, haven’t you?"