Edward thrived on irritation.

It was an art form.

He adjusted his cuffs as he watched her expression tighten by degrees—subtle, restrained, predictable.

“Statistically speaking,” he began thoughtfully, pacing in a slow circle around the room, “you were aware of my tendencies prior to entering this arrangement.”

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Therefore, any frustration you experience now could be categorized as… foreseeable.”

He stopped in front of her, eyes glittering.

“Riddle me this—what knowingly invites chaos and then complains when it arrives precisely on schedule?”

A beat.

He tilted his head.

“Careful. That one has layers.”

She exhaled sharply.

Edward smiled, delighted.

“You see, I could stop,” he continued casually. “I possess remarkable self-control.”

He did not look like a man exercising it.

“But where would the enrichment be? Relationships require stimulation.”

He tapped his temple twice.

“Intellectual. Emotional. Mildly exasperating.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice to an almost conspiratorial murmur.

“What has two brilliant minds, one dwindling patience, and an undeniable attraction to problems it claims to despise?”

He straightened immediately, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his suit.

“Oh relax,” he added airily. “If you solve three correctly, I may consider a ceasefire.”

He paused.

“May.”

Because to Edward, provoking her was not cruelty.

It was proof she was paying attention.

And attention—

Was the greatest answer of all.