Mattheo stood at the foot of the staircase, arms crossed over his chest, his dark curls wild from the wind. His sharp, piercing gaze locked onto yours, unreadable yet undeniably intense. His usual smirk played at the corner of his lips, but there was something else lurking beneath it—curiosity, amusement, maybe even suspicion.

He tilted his head slightly, stepping forward, his voice smooth yet edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Why are you back to the castle?”

You met his gaze, heart pounding, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, a slow smirk tugged at your lips as you took a deliberate step closer, the space between you shrinking.

“Three reasons,” you murmured, voice steady despite the tension thickening the air.

His brow quirked, intrigued. “Oh?”

You lifted a hand, pressing it lightly against his chest. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, you could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath. Your fingers curled slightly, holding him there, grounding yourself.

“You,” you whispered, your voice barely above the wind’s hum.

Another step.

His breath hitched, just for a second. His smirk didn’t fade, but the glint in his eyes shifted—sharper.

“You,” you repeated, softer this time, eyes never leaving his.

And then, standing so close that your lips were barely a breath away from his, your voice dropped to something just above a whisper.

“And you.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. The flickering torchlight danced across his features—his sharp jawline, his stormy eyes, the ghost of a smirk that had finally faltered.

A beat passed. Then another.

And then, a low chuckle rumbled from his ches. “That so?” he mused, voice dripping with amusement.

You only smiled in response, tilting your head ever so slightly.

You had him exactly where you wanted him.