Sweet Hatred Chapter 117: Lunch

"Princess treatnt my ass," I grumbled, cheeks heating. I tried to wiggle free, but he only tightened his hold, the muscles in his arms flexing deliciously. Traitorous bastard.

We passed so guards walking by the door, and I could feel their eyes twitch away politely like this wasn’t the most embarrassing thing ever.

"You’re enjoying this way too much," I muttered.

"Imnsely."

"Drop , Kael."

"Never."

The nerve.

We were halfway down the hall when he asked, "Hungry?"

"No," I said firmly.

Which would’ve been convincing... if my stomach hadn’t let out the most obnoxious, traitorous, gremlin-growl of a sound.

I froze. So did Kael. His chest rumbled with a laugh I wanted to slap off his mouth. I covered my face with one hand and groaned. "Oh my god. This is humiliating. I literally stuffed my face earlier—how am I even hungry again?"

He leaned in closer, his voice low in my ear. "Maybe it’s all that sneaking around you were doing."

I went still. Wait what?

He smirked. The bastard knew.

I slapped his shoulder. "You don’t know shit."

"Mhm. Let’s get you fed before you pass out from spy-induced hunger."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re adorable."

God, I was so dood.

Lunch was set outside on the upper terrace, right under a wide canopy of blooming wisteria that swayed gently in the breeze. Beyond the railings, an open view of the countryside stretched endlessly—rolling hills painted in shades of green and gold, dotted with olive trees and red-roofed villas. The scent of lavender mixed with garlic butter and roasted herbs in the air, and if heaven had a location, this was dangerously close.

There was a long glass table glinting in the sunlight, spread with dishes that made my mouth water at first glance—creamy truffle pasta with hints of parsan and cracked pepper, grilled lamb chops crusted with rosemary, roasted vegetables glistening in olive oil, a fresh tomato and burrata salad, and a side basket of warm garlic focaccia with balsamic dip. A carafe of cold lemon-mint water sat near the edge, sweating under the sun. It was unfair. All of it. Unfair how delicious this looked. Unfair how good I still felt in Kael’s stupid oversized sweatshirt, and even more unfair how this was my life now.

I dug in imdiately, twirling the pasta like a starving gremlin. Kael sat across from , quiet, sipping his drink and watching like I was so fascinating alien species that needed to be studied.

I chewed slowly and lifted my eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," he said with a smile that ant everything.

I narrowed my eyes. "You’ve been staring at for the past five minutes. Eat your food."

He didn’t move. "Not really hungry."

"Well, I am, and I’m going to take your plate if you keep that up."

He tilted his head. "Go ahead. I’ll even feed you if you let ."

He reached forward and tucked a loose curl behind my ear like it was nothing—but my whole body lit up from the gesture.

I blinked. "You’re weird."

"You’re cute."

I huffed and stabbed a roasted tomato before offering it to him, shoving the fork toward his mouth. "Fine. Eat this."

He bit Into it slowly, watching while chewing like I was so rare delight. It was unsettling. In a good way. Unfortunately.

"So," I said, trying again, "why aren’t you going to the wedding?"

His chewing slowed just slightly.

I continued, all nonchalant and innocent. "I an, Don-sobody sent you a personal invite, right? You could at least show up. Wouldn’t want to hurt his mafia feelings."

Kael didn’t respond right away.

"Not interested," he said simply.

"Why?" I pushed. "You don’t like parties?"

"I like the right ones."

"Which are...?"

He looked amused. "The ones where I can keep my eye on trouble."

"Oh?" I grinned. "So you do think it’s dangerous."

His brows arched. "I never said that."

I shrugged. "Just heavily implied it."

He leaned back in his chair for a mont, eyes still on . Then, without a word, he stood up, circled the table, and dragged his chair around to sit right beside .

I blinked. "What are you doing?"

"I can’t touch you from over there."

"You—" My face flad. "You’re so—"

"Irritatingly honest? Yes."

He reached out, trailing his fingers lightly over my wrist. My breath caught for a second.

"You know," I muttered, stuffing another forkful of pasta into my mouth, "for soone who seems to be a gateway to danger, you’re terrible at hiding secrets."

"And you," he said, voice low and warm, "are terrible at sneaking."

My chewing slowed.

I swallowed. "Just—shut it—"

Kael smirked. "It’s cute that you think you can sneak up on like that."

I scowled and shoved another bite into my mouth just to avoid answering. Tsk. I hated how smug he looked.

"Don’t you have better things to do?" I mumbled mid-bite.

"Not really. Watching you eat is my top priority today."

"Oh my God," I groaned. "You’re like a housefly."

He smiled and stole a piece of focaccia from my basket, popping it into his mouth.

"Say you’ll co to the wedding with ," I teased.

"Hmmn"

I leaned closer with a grin. "What if I told you I’d wear sothing scandalous?"

He paused. "Tempting."

I wiggled my brows. "I might even misbehave."

He turned his face toward mine slowly, brushing a knuckle down my jaw.

"You misbehave," he said, voice silk, "and I won’t wait until we’re ho."

My entire system short-circuited.

His voice, low and deliberate, sat heavy between us like a promise I wasn’t sure I wanted fulfilled... and yet my whole body was screaming yes, please.

"If you misbehave," he murmured again, mouth brushing just close enough to make shiver, " I won’t wait until we’re ho Aria."

I blinked. Once. Twice.

Then I smiled sweetly, putting on that fake innocent tone I knew drove him mad. "That sounds like a challenge, Mr. Roman."

He raised a brow. "Oh? Are you tempting , firefly?"

I leaned in a little closer. "Would you be tempted if I said I’d wear sothing red... maybe silk... maybe scandalously short... or maybe not short at all, just easy to take off?"

Kael’s nostrils flared. His hand flexed slightly against the table like he was holding himself back from grabbing . My heart thundered wildly, half from the thrill, half from the fact that he always delivered on his threats. Always.

"Speaking of scandalous," he said after a beat, his grin slow and sinful, "I actually have a gift for you."