Spencer snapped out of his trance, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Michael, a subtle edge to his gaze. "I didn't expect you to come," he remarked coolly, his voice carrying a tinge of surprise.
"Miss me?" Michael's lips curved into a sly smile, his gaze locking with Spencer's in a wordless challenge.
Spencer's expression twisted into one of disgust as he retorted, "Not even the slightest."
Spencer shot one final glare at Michael before turning on his heel and striding away, the swish of his wine glass echoing his departure from the balcony.
"That sassy attitude." Michael mused to himself with a chuckle, as he stepped into the lively building filled with laughter and clinking glasses.
**
As Michael made his way through the crowd, he exchanged greetings and brief conversations with several people until he finally came face to face with Lucine Lysander, Spencer's sister.
"My, my!" Lucine exclaimed, enveloping Michael in a warm hug, while her spouse shot Michael a glare. "I didn't expect you to come, Michael!" Lucine said, releasing him from the hug, clearly pleased by his presence.
"Of course. I couldn't miss your party, princess Lucine." Michael replied with a simple nod.
**
Spencer descended the stairs, his fingers delicately tracing the intricate design of the railing as he noticed Michael and his sister engaged in conversation. Spencer decided to make his way over to them, his wine glass now empty in his hand.
Lucine turned around, her brother standing behind her, a slight smile playing on her lips as she locked eyes with Spencer. "Have you already said hello to Michael?" she asked.
Spencer shifted slightly, avoiding Michael's gaze, and replied that he had indeed already greeted him. Michael simply smiled.
Lucine flashed a mischievous grin as she teased, "I'll leave you two boys to bond then. Be on your best behavior, Spencer." With a playful wink, she turned on her heel and made her way over to her husband.
Spencer shot Michael a fierce glare as soon as his sister had departed, his words laced with venom. "Go die." he spat out coldly.
"My, such cruel words," Michael sneered, his towering height making him loom over the prince of Lucindia, Spencer Lysander. Michael's lips twisted into a sly, mocking smile as he gazed down at Spencer, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and warning. "Your father is right there, Spencer," he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'm sure he wouldn't want to have to intervene in this little situation." He paused, his eyes flicking to Spencer's father, who was indeed standing at the edge of the room, his expression a mask of stern disapproval.
Spencer's gaze snapped back to Michael's face, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and frustration as he struggled to maintain his composure. His teeth clenched together in a tight, white-knuckled grip, his jaw aching from the effort of restraining his temper. He could feel his father's disapproving gaze on him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about was the infuriating smirk on Michael's face, the way he seemed to be reveling in Spencer's helplessness. "Shut up," Spencer spat, his voice low and venomous, his words dripping with hatred as he forced himself to take a step closer to Michael.
Michael's eyes never left Spencer's face, his gaze piercing and unnervingly calm as he waited for Spencer's response. His smile, though subtle, seemed to grow even more insidious as he inhaled slowly. His voice was low and even, the words dripping with a mocking sweetness as he asked, "Are you drunk?" His eyes narrowed slightly, as if daring Spencer to try and deny it. As Spencer moved closer, Michael's hands remained at his sides, his fingers curled into gentle fists, but his body seemed to tense subtly, ready to respond to any sudden movement from Spencer.
Spencer's glare remained fixed on Michael, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he struggled to maintain his composure. His gaze flickered briefly towards the corner of the room, where his father's presence still lingered, but he quickly refocused on Michael, his anger and frustration simmering just below the surface. When Michael spoke again, Spencer's voice was low and even, but laced with a hint of defiance. "I have a high tolerance," he said, the words dripping with a quiet confidence. But Michael's remark about it not seeming that way only made Spencer's eyes narrow further, his jaw clenched in frustration.
Michael's fingers dug gently into Spencer's shoulder, his grip firm but not crushing as he held him steady. The music and laughter of the party seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the intense, electric atmosphere between them. Spencer's eyes, already narrowed in anger, flashed up at Michael's taunt, his gaze burning with a fierce intensity. His jaw clenched, his teeth gritted in a mixture of frustration and humiliation. Michael's smirk, a sly and infuriating curve of his lips, only added to Spencer's growing rage.
As Spencer struggled to regain his balance, Michael's grip on his shoulder tightened imperceptibly, his eyes never leaving Spencer's face. The air was thick with tension, and the soft music seemed to pulse in time with their racing heartbeats. Michael's voice was low and husky, a lazy drawl that only added to the sense of intimacy and danger. "How many glasses did you drink?" he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement. And then, his voice dropped to a whisper, his breath warm against Spencer's ear. "Want me to carry you like a princess to your room?" The words were a dare, a challenge that left Spencer feeling trapped and helpless.
