THE PAWN AND THE KING

13

Raeland's eyes locked onto mine, cold and calculating, his jaw tight with suspicion. The space between us felt small, suffocating, as his presence dominated the office. His broad shoulders loomed under the low light, casting long shadows over the dark wood paneling. He took a step forward, the distance shrinking, his displeasure clear in the twist of his lips. "I asked you, Valenti. What the hell are you doing here?"

His voice was low but sharp, each word clipped and deliberate, heavy with accusation. I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat, a knot of tension tightening in my chest as I instinctively took a step back. My heels scuffed against the floor, and the cool air suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

"I—" My voice faltered, cracking under his intense gaze. I forced myself to stand my ground, though the urge to leave surged in my gut. "I was worried. You didn't come home," I said, the words brittle as they left my mouth. I swallowed, feeling the burn of anxiety clawing at my throat. My smile was strained, awkward, barely hiding my discomfort. "I came to check on you."

Raeland's laugh was short and humorless, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. He took another step, close enough now that I could see the tension in his posture—the way his fingers flexed at his sides, how the muscles in his neck tightened. "Worried about me?" he repeated, his voice dripping with derision. "Don't act like you care. We both know you don't."

I flinched.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. His gaze was too piercing, his presence too overwhelming. The dim light from the desk lamp cast long, eerie shadows over the dark wood paneling, making everything feel more oppressive. His shirt was still unbuttoned at the collar, and though his appearance screamed exhaustion, his gaze was sharp—merciless.

Suddenly, a high pitched voice, desperate and trembling, broke the silence like a glass shattering against the floor.

"Raeland, you need to listen to me!"

My entire body tensed. I didn't need to turn around to know it was her—Annabella. She stepped into view from behind him, her wide, imploring eyes darting between us, as if trying to assess the situation. My stomach churned, twisting into a knot as jealousy flared hot and unbidden.

I barely registered Raeland's look of irritation—my mind was already spiraling, imagining all the worst-case scenarios, the unspoken history between them now hanging like a noose around my neck. I could feel my pulse in my throat, my palms sweating as I tried to keep my face neutral, to pretend I wasn't about to unravel.

Anna's saccharine smile only added fuel to the fire. "Delila, right?" she said, her voice dripping with fake politeness. She shifted her gaze back to Raeland, almost possessively. "Raeland, we really need to talk. It's important."

Her hand moved toward his arm, and I couldn't stop the sharp, irrational surge of jealousy that washed over me. My breathing hitched, the rational part of me knowing I was overreacting, but I couldn't help it. I hated her. I hated that she was here, that she was standing so close to him, that she thought she had any right to be part of this moment.

Before she could touch him, Raeland caught her wrist in a firm, almost dismissive grip. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, not even sparing her a glance. "Not now, Anna," he said coldly, his voice cutting through her attempt to speak. He took a step closer to me, his gaze unrelenting.

Anna hesitated, her hand hovering just inches away from Raeland's arm, as if she was about to reach for him again.

My chest tightened.

I turned away, my chest tight, bile rising in my throat. "I should go," I muttered, my voice cracking. I couldn't stand to be here, not with her, not with him like this.