The dungeon corridor is quiet, and you should have known he would be here. Trouble always finds you. Or maybe he always does.

You turn the corner and stop in your tracks.

There he is — Mattheo. He’s leaning lazily against the wall as if he has all the time in the world, arms crossed, with that irritatingly smug grin curling on his lips.

He’s dressed in all black, of course. As if he’s trying to match the mood he brings with him into every room.

"Well, if it isn’t my favorite little menace," he says.

You groan, not even trying to hide your annoyance. "Don’t you have someone else to torment tonight?"

"Nope," Mattheo says, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "I cleared my schedule for you."

His dark, sharp eyes are locked on yours. You hate the way he looks at you as if he’s about to ruin something and is enjoying every second of it.

"I hate you," you say.

He licks his bottom lip, his head tilting slightly like he’s savoring the words.

"Mmm… it t/rns me on. I love it," Mattheo says, his voice dropping an octave, as if daring you to say it again.

Your eyes narrow, but a chuckle escapes before you can stop it. "You are the worst, Mattheo."

"But I’m only yours, princess," Mattheo says. "Don’t forget that part."

You roll your eyes, but your heart is beating louder than your footsteps, and you know he hears it. "You're delusional."

"And you're blushing," he says, smug as ever.

You shove him lightly in the chest, enough to make him take a step back, but not enough to wipe the grin off his face. "You live to make me miserable."

"Please," Mattheo says. "You think I'd waste my talents on just anyone? You're special."

You scoff, walking past him without another word, but you feel the heat of his gaze follow you like a second shadow.

"Sweet dreams... hate me more tomorrow, yeah?" Mattheo calls after you.