A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 93 - 92

Chapter 93: Chapter 92

I stole another glance at him, hoping—praying—that he had gone back to his work.

But no such luck.

I never had been lucky to begin with so it didn’t come as a surprise to find out he was still watching me, though now there was a more thoughtful look in his eyes, as if he were considering something important.

It made me uneasy.

"Shouldn’t you be focusing on your duties, Your Majesty?" I asked, trying to sound casual, calm... composed. "You know, instead of... whatever this is."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "I find this far more interesting," he admitted, leaning back in his chair once more. "Besides, I have done enough work for one evening."

"Well, I haven’t finished my dinner," I retorted, hoping to steer the conversation back to something less... flustering.

He didn’t respond right away, but I could feel the shift in his demeanor. The teasing edge in his expression softened ever so slightly, replaced by something I couldn’t quite name. It was strange, seeing him like this—calm, almost... content.

"You don’t have to rush," he said quietly, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice, just a simple statement. "Take your time."

I paused for a moment.

That was easy for him to say—effortless, really—after dropping that line on me, the one that made my heart skip a beat and my thoughts spiral into chaos.

He had this uncanny ability to disarm me with a single sentence, to stir something in me I didn’t even know was there. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he said them, like he knew exactly how to get under my skin.

And oh, he had gotten under my skin, all right. His casual charm, the way his lips curved with a smirk after speaking, like he knew he had me tangled in his web—it infuriated me as much as it intrigued me.

I wanted to turn the tables. I wanted to see that same flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, to make his composed facade crack. I wanted to get under his skin the way he so effortlessly wormed his way under mine. It wasn’t fair that he could leave me flustered while walking away unscathed. If this was a game, I wanted a shot at winning, or at least leveling the playing field.

With that in mind, I picked up my spoon, dipping it into the rich sauce on my plate. I lifted it slowly, purposefully, and glanced up to see His Majesty still watching me with that same unreadable intensity. My heart hammered in my chest, but I ignored it.

There was no time to second-guess.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I brought the spoon to my lips, letting my tongue flick against the underside before I dragged it up, slowly licking the sauce clean from bottom to top. I didn’t blink, watching for any sign that I had managed to ruffle his composure.

His breath hitched—just barely—but it was enough. His crimson eyes darkened ever so slightly, and for a split second, I saw something flicker across his expression. Something raw, something primal.

"If Your Majesty insists that I eat slowly..." I began, my tone soft but teasing, "...who am I to argue?"

With that, I lowered my gaze back to my meal before he could say anything, my cheeks burning with a blush that felt entirely too hot. I didn’t know what possessed me to do that, but the momentary shift in his demeanor—the slight crack in his usually impenetrable mask—made it worth it.

A few moments passed in silence.

Despite my resolve to focus on my food, I couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him. He was still watching me, of course, but now there was something different in his gaze—a gleam of amusement, as though he knew exactly what I was trying to do. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and then, to my surprise, he chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate.

"Layla, Layla, Layla," he murmured, running a hand through his hair in a way that somehow made him look even more infuriatingly attractive. "You will be the death of me."

I froze.

It wasn’t his teasing tone that startled me, nor was it the way he looked at me, as though I was some intriguing puzzle he intended to solve. No, it was the fact that he had used my name.

He had never done that before.

Hearing him say it, in that low, familiar voice, sent an odd warmth through me. My heart skipped a beat, then raced ahead, faster than before. Why did it feel so different, hearing my name from his lips?

I shouldn’t want to hear it again. I shouldn’t, but I did. Desperately.

But of course, I couldn’t say that. Instead, while trying to keep my composure, I busied myself with my meal, trying to act as though his words hadn’t thrown me off balance. It was harder than it should have been, especially with him still watching me.

It took all my willpower to appear unaffected.

"Are you still going to keep staring at me all night, Your Majesty?" I asked, keeping my tone light, though my voice betrayed a hint of breathlessness.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never wavering. "Perhaps," he said after a moment, his smirk widening. "You’re quite... entertaining tonight."

"Glad I could amuse you," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

I didn’t know what game we were playing anymore. All I knew was that it felt like walking a tightrope—one misstep, and I would fall. And yet, despite the danger, I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. It was like some invisible thread kept pulling me toward him, no matter how much I tried to resist.

And judging by the way he looked at me, I wasn’t the only one caught in that strange pull.