God of Mischief (Light of Obsession #2)

Chapter 20

Amelie

Yuto is the most annoying man I've ever met. And that's saying something, considering I've spent most of my life dodging nosy neighbors and overbearing coworkers. But him? He takes the cake.

Don't get me wrong—he's stupidly handsome, absurdly thoughtful, and knows how to cook like a Michelin-star chef, which is just unfair. But sometimes, he does this thing where he stares at me, like I'm some puzzle he's trying to solve. And it's not the romantic, swoon-worthy kind of staring either. No, it's the brooding, secretive, I've-got-ten-things-on-my-mind kind.

It drives me insane.

Tonight was no exception. I'd caught him zoning out three times already, his dark eyes distant, like he was physically here but mentally somewhere else. Every time I called him out on it, he brushed me off with some vague excuse about "work." Sure, work could be stressful, but there was something else there—something he wasn't telling me.

And it pissed me off.

I wasn't the type of girl to sit quietly and let my boyfriend stew in his own secrets. If there was a problem, we were going to talk about it. End of story.

Which is exactly why, as I dried the last dish from dinner and watched him halfheartedly scrolling through his phone on the couch, I decided enough was enough.

"Alright, spill it," I said, dropping the dish towel onto the counter with a flourish.

Yuto glanced up at me, his brows furrowed. "Spill what?"

"Don't play dumb. You've been weird all week." I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter for effect. "You're distracted, moody, and you're not even pretending to laugh at my jokes anymore. What's going on?"

He blinked at me, caught off guard. For a second, I thought he was actually going to tell me. His lips parted, like he was about to say something honest, something real.

And then he shrugged. Shrugged.

"It's nothing, Amelie. You're imagining things."

Imagining things? Oh, hell no.

I stormed over to the couch, planting myself directly in front of him. "You're the worst liar I've ever met, Yuto. Try again."

He sighed, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. God, he was so frustrating. "I told you, it's work. That's all."

"You're lying."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are!" I snapped, my voice rising. "And you know what? Fine. If you don't trust me enough to tell me what's going on, that's your choice. But don't expect me to sit here and pretend everything's fine when it's obviously not."

The words hung between us, sharp and heavy. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue, but instead, he just stared at me with that same infuriatingly conflicted expression.

"Amelie..." he started, his tone softer now.

"No," I cut him off, holding up a hand. "Don't 'Amelie' me. I've been nothing but patient with you, but this whole 'mysterious, brooding boyfriend' act is getting old. Either talk to me, or don't. But stop stringing me along."

I could feel my throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to break through. I hated how vulnerable I felt, standing there demanding answers from the man I'd given my heart to.

Yuto stood, towering over me with that stupidly calm demeanor of his. "It's not that simple," he said quietly.

I threw my hands up, exasperated. "Of course it's not! Nothing ever is! But we're supposed to be in this together, remember? You don't get to shut me out just because it's complicated."

He looked at me then, really looked at me, like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face. It made my stomach twist, and not in the good, butterfly-inducing way.

"You don't understand," he said finally, his voice low.

"Then make me understand." My voice cracked, but I didn't care. "Whatever it is, Yuto, I can handle it. But you have to let me in."

For a moment, I thought I'd gotten through to him. His shoulders slumped, and he opened his mouth to speak—but then he hesitated. That flicker of vulnerability disappeared, replaced by the same guarded mask he always wore when things got too personal.

"I can't," he said, almost too softly to hear.

And just like that, my heart broke.

"Right," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Got it."

I turned to grab my coat, needing to get out before I completely lost it. But before I could make it to the door, his hand shot out, gently grabbing my wrist.

"Amelie, wait."

I froze, my back to him, too afraid to turn around and face whatever expression he was wearing. "What, Yuto?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, I felt him step closer, his presence warm and overwhelming.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I know I'm screwing this up, but...I'm trying to protect you."

I whipped around, glaring up at him. "From what?"

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, I saw something break in his carefully composed facade. Fear.

"From me," he admitted.

The anger drained out of me in an instant, replaced by confusion and worry. "Yuto..."

"I'm not the man you think I am, Amelie," he said, his grip on my wrist loosening. "And if you knew the truth, you'd hate me."

The room felt unbearably quiet as his words sank in. Part of me wanted to demand answers, to shake him until he told me everything. But the other part—the part that loved him—couldn't stand the look of anguish on his face.

I reached up, gently placing a hand on his cheek. "I could never hate you," I whispered. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Together."

His eyes closed, and for a moment, I thought he might actually believe me. But when he opened them again, there was a resolve there that made my chest tighten.

"I hope you mean that," he said quietly. "Because when the truth comes out...it might destroy us."

Before I could respond, he pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my hair. And as much as I wanted to believe everything would be okay, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was right.