He Fell for the Wrong Bride

Chapter 8 How Irresistible

"It's just a hypothetical," Kevin replied, his voice measured. Yet, there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

I lowered my gaze and tilted my head slightly, summoning every ounce of dramatic training I'd picked up in high school theater. I pictured myself as a fragile orphan.

"I thought you'd be kinder to me than my father. But here you are, trying to abandon me before we're even married. If the terms were right, would you sell me to someone else too?"

"That's absurd," Kevin said, his tone softening to something almost gentle. "We can discuss the specifics further."

"My father sold me off to a middle-aged man in his fifties without ever asking if I was willing. I'm only twenty. Until yesterday, I hadn't even seen you, not even your picture. Do you think that's fair to me?"

I tried to think of my family's struggles, my own helplessness, and the indignities I'd endured these past weeks. Tears began to flow effortlessly.

"I'm forty-one," Kevin murmured after a pause, sitting beside me and gently patting my back.

"You've seen me now. Don't be upset, alright?"

I leaned into him, resting my head against the curve of his neck, and gazed up at him with wide, teary eyes.

"If you send me home, he'll lock me in a convent. A divorced princess would only bring him shame."

"A convent? It's the 21st century," Kevin stammered, clearly unsettled. His hands fidgeted awkwardly, unsure where to rest. "What about your mother? Or your brothers? Surely they'd take care of you."

"You mean the queen? I'm worth less to her than the pearls on her shoes. And my brothers? They've never cared about me. To them, I'm just a pawn to be married off for their advantage. Especially Hardy..."

The mention of Hardy brought a fresh sting to my chest, and my tears turned into soft, pitiful sobs.

"He made sure to announce his engagement before I left, just to ensure my debut wouldn't overshadow his fiancée's."

"I didn't realize your family dynamics were so... complicated. What do you want? Tell me, and I'll try to make it happen."

Kevin pulled me closer, dabbing at my tears with a handkerchief. I wrapped my arms around his neck and raised my face toward his throat, letting my lips brush dangerously close to his Adam's apple.

"I want to make tea for you every day," I murmured. "I've already memorized how you like it—sweet."

Kevin froze mid-motion, lowering the handkerchief as his sharp gaze locked onto mine. I placed a hand on his cheek, letting my fingers linger as I looked at him with a longing, almost hypnotic stare.

"Kevin," I whispered, my voice a sultry breath against his skin. "You don't need me to make the royal family more appealing. Do you know how irresistible you are?"

In an instant, I was swept off my feet—literally.

Kevin pulled me onto his lap, his strong hands roaming over the small of my back, sending shivers through me.

Wherever he touched, a trail of warmth and electric tension spread, coursing through my veins like wildfire.

His other hand captured mine, guiding it to his waist.

Beneath my palm, I felt the taut, sculpted ridges of his abs, his frame lean and powerful.

He leaned in, his face so close our breaths mingled.

I could see every detail of his expression—his slightly parted lips, the faint narrowing of his beautiful eyes.

In the reflection of his gaze, I saw myself: flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, completely undone.

Somehow, the top three buttons of my blouse had come undone.

Through the thin fabric of his shirt, I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, the tension in his muscles.

All of this was happening in my arms.

'I just wanted to tease him!' I thought frantically. 'Not... this!'

But Kevin didn't seem to share my reservations. His self-control, it seemed, was paper-thin.

Should I push him away? Would he stop if I said no?

But what if he thought I'd been lying this whole time?

'I have every legal right to refuse,' I reminded myself.

Then again, that was Kastillia's law.

Luthshir's? I hadn't had time to check. For all I knew, Kevin had written them himself.

At school, a simple flip of my hair and a smile had boys falling at my feet.

But against someone like Kevin—a man who could lie about being gay without breaking a sweat—playing coy was like dancing on a live wire.

The fire crackled in the hearth, but it wasn't half as burning as my face.

Where was Pablo when I needed him?

Ha, snoozing on Kevin's chair? That useless cat.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself, like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.

Well... he carried himself like a true gentleman, so I couldn't help but expect him to begin with a kiss.

But the kiss didn't come. Instead, his voice—low, velvety, and infuriatingly amused—breathed against my ear.

"You look like a second-rate escort."

My eyes snapped open to find his face inches away, his lips curled in a devilish smirk. He looked like a mischievous child who'd just pulled off the perfect prank.

Was he playing along this whole time?

But he'd been affected too—I felt it.

Or... was he faking it?

"You seem very familiar with escorts," I shot back, shoving him off and folding my arms as I retreated to my chair, scooting as far away from him as I could.

To my dismay, that look of admiration crept back into his eyes.

"This is my girl," he said approvingly.

"Don't act like you know me!" I snapped, turning my head away.

"You're easy to read," Kevin said, his tone matter-of-fact. "A girl who grew up loved and cherished. Proud. Confident. Unyielding. But that also means you can't convincingly fake misery."

His gaze softened, sincere and unwavering, as if he were studying an equation he had just solved.

"Those qualities are rare. They make you enviable. Don't lose them by trying to be someone you're not, especially if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I wasn't faking," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat under his unrelenting scrutiny.

"I believe you," he said. "But I won't allow you to beg for pity—not from anyone."

He kept his gaze on me, unwavering, as though his eyes alone could command the world. There was a quiet power in them, a confidence that only a true dominator could possess.

It made me feel strangely inadequate.

"Anyone? Does that include the king himself?"

I tilted my chin defiantly, locking eyes with him.