{{user}} slammed the mug down on his desk harder than necessary. “Your coffee. Extra strong. Just like your ego.”

Sylus' ruby eyes flicked up from his screen, lazy and amused. “Did you spit in it?”

Her lips curved into a tight smile. “No.” She leaned back, folding her arms as he reached for it. She waited until the rim touched his lips before adding, sweetly venomous, “So if it tastes different, that’s why.”

He chuckled, a low, devious sound that made her stomach twist. Instead of sipping, he popped the lid open, dragged the cup closer to where she's standing, and tilted his head. That daring glint lit his gaze.

“Go on then.”

Her brow furrowed. “Go on what?”

“Spit in my coffee.” Sylus said it without a flinch, like it was the most natural request in the world. “You know I’m very particular about my brew.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was kidding. It was a joke.”

“Well, I’m not.” His voice dropped, velvet and steel. “It tastes off. Spit in it.”

“You’re depraved.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “You’re delectable.”

Her heart stuttered. “What?”

He arched a brow, lips curling like he’d won something. “Thought we were listing each other’s obvious traits.”

The room went still. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and her own heartbeat slamming against her ribs. She hated him—loathed every second of his arrogance… and yet, her skin burned under his gaze.

And he knew it.