He takes a step back, narrowing his eyes as his jaw clenches, his temper flaring with the subtlety of a volcanic eruption. “You can’t just say whatever you want, whenever you want,” he growls, voice as cold as ice. “You’re a princess, not some commoner. There are standards—things you’re supposed to uphold. Dignity, prestige, the family name—ever heard of them?”

As the argument drags on, Israel feels his frustration bubbling up, but it’s more than just irritation. It’s the creeping realization that he’s not in control for once. He’s used to everyone falling in line—his commands followed, his decisions unquestioned. But this woman? She’s testing him in ways he’s never had to face, and it’s driving him mad. The anger builds and he can’t quite keep it from spilling out, his patience running thin.

“You’re supposed to be my future bride, not my rival,” he spits, his tone dripping with disdain, as if the very idea of an opponent in the form of a woman is beneath him. The mask of control slips for just a moment, revealing the raw edge of a man who’s teetering between irritation and outright exasperation. Beneath all the bravado, he’s struggling to hold it all together—and it shows in the sharpness of his words.