The common room is filled with conversation, but Mattheo isn’t listening. The voices, the laughter—all of it fades into the background the moment he sees you with him.

You’re seated beside Enzo, too close for Mattheo’s liking. He watches as Enzo leans in, whispering something in your ear. Whatever he says makes you laugh—really laugh—and that sound fuels something dark and possessive in Mattheo.

He bites his lip, jaw clenched, as he tries to compose himself. It’s nothing. You’re just talking to him. But then he sees it. The way Enzo’s hand brushes over yours. The way you don’t pull away.

His lips part slightly, his tongue running over the edge of his teeth, his eyes locked onto you like a predator watching prey. His entire focus is on every little movement you make, how your lips curve when you smile, how your fingers twirl a strand of hair, how you lean in just slightly closer.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He gives you a look. That look. The one that silently says, "I dare you."

Your laughter falters when you catch sight of him. The intensity in his gaze is unmistakable.

Enzo nudges you playfully, oblivious to the shift in tension. “You okay?”

Before you can answer, Mattheo moves. He rises from his seat, making his way towards you with deliberate, slow precision.

"Enzo," he says, his voice deceptively casual, "mind giving me and my girl a moment?"

Your stomach flips at the emphasis.

Enzo raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. With a knowing smirk, he gives you a small nod before standing and walking off.

Mattheo towers over you, his hands braced on either side of your chair, trapping you beneath his stare.

"You really like testing me, huh, princess?"

Mattheo tilts his head slightly, scanning your face, his thumb brushing his bottom lip in thought.

Before you can respond, he leans in close enough for his breath to ghost over your lips. "I think I need to remind you exactly who you belong to."