Chapter 8 #2
"I was doing some reading today, and I found your family archives," I say, keeping my tone flat. Attempting small talk under the guise of calm neutrality as my weapon of choice.
I look up gingerly, unsure of what to expect, and find myself blushing even deeper at the look in his eye.
He raises an eyebrow, “Were you now?”
“Yes, I have a horse I adore and was pleased to hear your family is in the equine business.”
He stares at me, not speaking. After a beat of eye contact that makes my chest flush, his lip begins to curl slightly in a look of near disgust.
“Was.”
I rear back a bit, not quite sure how to make small talk with someone clearly disgusted by me.
“Perhaps that wasn't the best way to start.” I try again, “I wasn't meaning to be a snoop, I only meant to make simple conversation.”
"Conversation?" Hayden raises an eyebrow mockingly as he approaches the table, swirling his drink thoughtfully. His voice is gruff, sending goosebumps scattering across my skin. "About what exactly, Martine?"
"Why I'm here," I respond firmly yet respectfully. "What you're hoping to achieve by keeping me."
He takes his seat casually, eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses my composed demeanor. "And prying into my family's personal life was going to accomplish that? Besides, knowing your outcome won't change your situation."
Frustration simmers quietly beneath my carefully maintained exterior. "Understanding your intentions might help us coexist without hostility."
A humorless laugh escapes him. "Hostility keeps things interesting."
My fingernails dig into the tablecloth.
"Is that really what you want? Constant tension between us?" My tone remains carefully measured, despite the growing irritation inside me.
He shrugs indifferently, eyes fixed on the liquid swirling in his glass. His eyelashes are so long that I have to fight myself from counting them. "What I want is obedience. Beyond that, your comfort isn't my concern."
"I'm offering you cooperation, Hayden," I insist gently, fighting to keep desperation from creeping into my voice. "Can’t you at least meet me halfway? What about bringing my horse here?"
Am I seriously asking for my horse? Clearly, the wine from this afternoon has gone to my head, as I’m not sure my request for my horse is to indulge in a short ride or use her to flee to my escape. The worst part is, I'm not sure how desperate I am to get away anymore.
He pauses, his eyes flickering momentarily with something unreadable before turning cold again. "Halfway implies negotiation. You’re not in a position to negotiate."
I exhale slowly, frustration battling pride as I force a composed tone. "Fine. But treating me like a silent pet isn't going to make this easier for either of us."
His gaze sharpens instantly, a cruel edge coloring his expression. His lips curl into a slow, taunting smile that makes my stomach tighten. "Perhaps," he drawls, eyes glinting with wicked amusement, "not for you, but for me it’s quite ideal."
I glance away sharply, irritation simmering dangerously close to the surface. Heat rises along my cheeks, betraying me as I grip my fork tightly, forcing myself to eat with measured dignity. Every bite feels strained beneath the weight of his unwavering eyes.
I feel my chest flushing with heat under his gaze and try not to choke around a bite of soft fish.
The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until I can't stand it. Setting my utensils down carefully, I summon cautious resolve and meet his eyes again. Desperately trying to keep my voice steady, I ask, "Could you at least consider letting me return to Eulogia? Even if only to attend class—"
"No," he interrupts with icy detachment, savoring my reaction.
My jaw tightens involuntarily, but I cling stubbornly to my diminishing composure. "I'm not asking for much," I insist carefully, striving for calm. "A small concession could benefit both of us."
He tilts his head mockingly, voice dripping with patronizing curiosity. "And how exactly would indulging your whims benefit me, Martine?"
I swallow hard, fighting to keep my irritation concealed. "It might show you're capable of being reasonable. It could change the tone between us."
A slow, infuriatingly seductive smirk spreads across his lips as his eyes deliberately slide down to the neckline of my dress, lingering shamelessly on the swell of my breasts. My pulse quickens, anger and desire twisting within me until I nearly lose my grip on composure entirely.
"Oh, I rather like the tone exactly as it is," he murmurs, his voice a velvety rasp that sends a forbidden thrill down my spine.
He leans closer, eyes smoldering with blatant intent.
"But I'll tell you what—I do have a weakness for bribes.
" The suggestiveness in his tone makes my heart hammer violently against my ribs.
"With the right…incentive, I might just be convinced to reconsider. "
I stiffen instinctively, suspicion warring with reluctant curiosity. "What kind of incentive?"
He reclines comfortably, eyes glittering coldly yet filled with predatory amusement. "Prove you're worth indulging."
His arrogance ignites something reckless within me, shattering my composure. My palms slap the table sharply as I lean forward in defiance, my voice rising in agitation. "Hayden, you really can't see reason here?"
His bored expression only intensifies the humiliation burning through me. He’s looking at me in a way that makes me feel smaller than I want to admit.
I narrow my eyes slightly, desperately clawing back some semblance of control. "Then at least tell me how long you plan to keep me here."
"Indefinitely," he replies with infuriating casualness, sipping his drink calmly, "but I may be obliged to tighten your leash if your attitude doesn’t improve."
He picks up his knife now, looking down at the polished silver and then flipping it up in a smooth motion, just to bring the pointed end of it back down into the rich mahogany of the dining table.
A threat to both me and the ancient dining table.
I bite back the protest rising in my throat and drop my eyes, recognizing the futility of continuing this line of discussion, not sure the knife itself isn’t the threat. Clenching my jaw, I resume eating in silence, determined to survive whatever game he's playing.
Ignoring everything in the room, I allow my gaze to blur, feeling lost as I stare down at my perfectly cooked steak and creamed potatoes. If there was supposed to be a middle ground, I am pretty far from achieving it.
Were I better at my approach, perhaps thought harder about the ways to reach him, I could have penetrated his icy shell.
Instead, I’ve failed and gotten myself no closer to Lilibet, my dear horse, or Eulogia.
I fight back the tears that gather in my eyes, and I study my dinner plate, finding it impossible to look anywhere else without crumbling.
I sit frozen, unable to look up when he calls my name softly. All I can seem to do is stare at my steak, with tears welling in my eyes.
Suddenly, Hayden rises swiftly, stepping around the table with startling decisiveness.
Before I can react, he's swiping aside my plate and glass of wine and has lifted me effortlessly onto the polished surface.
My breath catches sharply, and instinctively, my legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.
My eyes meet his.
“There you are”, he says, his voice deep and thick with something I don’t understand. I don’t know him well enough yet. His smirk deepens triumphantly, eyes glittering with a dangerous intensity.
“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice dripping velvet-soft threats, “I prefer you defying me.”
My pulse races, betraying my composure, but I meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to be conquered so easily. “Don’t flatter yourself. You haven't won anything yet.”
His hand slides along my jaw, thumb brushing against my lower lip, a deceptively gentle touch.
“Yet,” he echoes, his voice darkly amused. His breath grazes my neck, igniting an involuntary shiver. “There’s always room for negotiation.”
“I won’t negotiate my surrender,” I whisper fiercely, even as my fingers betray me, gripping the collar of his shirt tighter, pulling him inexorably closer.
Hayden chuckles softly, dangerously confident. “No surrender, then.” He leans in, lips ghosting just inches from mine, taunting, testing.
Before I can respond, his mouth captures mine, fierce and commanding, demanding submission. My resistance melts into his fire, yet beneath my yielding, a promise simmers: he might have me in his grasp, but victory won't come without cost.
Without thinking, I’m moving. My fingers dive into his hair, twisting into silken strands as his tongue invades my mouth, claiming every inch possessively.
He kisses me as if he hates me, like we hate each other. His hand comes up to wrap around my throat and squeezes. He swallows the whimper it forces to escape my throat, savoring my surrender as heat spirals dangerously through my veins.
With his lips on mine, he shoves me back so I’m lying spread across the table.
The polished wood feels suddenly cold beneath me, a stark contrast to the scorching press of his body pinning me down.
His other hand travels my curves with unapologetic greed, searing trails of sensation over my skin.
I arch into him instinctively, hips grinding against his, craving friction, desperate for more.
“You pretend so well,” Hayden growls against my lips, his voice rough and thick with hunger, his hand at my throat gripping tighter and beginning to take my breath away. I gasp into his mouth from the pressure and reach up to grab at his wrist.
In a heartbeat, Hayden captures both my wrists in one swift, dominant motion, pinning them above my head. The sudden restraint forces my chest forward, arching my body into his possessive hold. A dark, satisfied growl escapes his throat as his lips trace a burning path along the curve of my neck.