Chapter 29: Chapter 29:The game he plays
The evening air was cool against Esme's skin as she stepped into the sleek black car that would take them to the event. She barely acknowledged Kael, keeping her eyes trained out the window, determined not to give him the satisfaction of her attention.
She had spent the entire day avoiding him—ignoring his presence, refusing to acknowledge his existence in the mansion. It was childish, maybe, but Esme didn't care. Let him feel what it was like to be disregarded.
Kael, as always, had remained unreadable. He hadn't called her out on her behavior, hadn't tried to force her into a conversation. He was patient. Too patient. And that only fueled her frustration.
But what she hadn't expected was for Kael to retaliate in his own way.
As they entered the grand ballroom, with its cascading chandeliers and lavish décor, Esme felt her breath hitch when she spotted a familiar figure—Sophia.
Her long, emerald-green dress shimmered under the golden light, her dark hair curled to perfection as she stood beside Kael, her manicured hand resting lightly on his arm. She was beautiful. Confident. Possessive.
And Kael let her.
A wave of disbelief crashed over Esme, she scoffed as she watched Sophia lean in closer to him, whispering something in his ear, her lips barely an inch away from his skin. Kael didn't push her away. He didn't step aside.
He let her cling to him, let her touch him as if she had every right to.
Esme felt her stomach churn with something ugly, something bitter.
Jealousy.
She hated it. Hated the way her blood boiled at the sight of them together. Hated that her fingers itched to rip Sophia's hand away from Kael. Hated that Kael had done this on purpose.
Because she knew he had.
He was playing her. Testing her patience. Pushing her to react first.
And damn it, it was working.
Throughout the night, Kael remained composed, occasionally engaging in casual conversation with Sophia while Esme tried her best to suppress the overwhelming rage clawing at her chest.
She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under her skin.
But by the time they returned to the mansion, she could no longer hold it in.
The moment they stepped inside, Esme spun around, her eyes blazing with fury as she faced Kael.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded, her voice sharp and unwavering.
Kael arched a brow, unbuttoning his suit jacket with infuriating calmness. "Be more specific."
Esme let out a sharp breath, clenching her fists at her sides. "You know exactly what I mean, Kael! You paraded around with her the entire night. You let her touch you, whisper in your ear, act like she was still your lover—all while standing right beside me!"
Kael's expression remained unreadable, but there was something dark flickering in his black eyes, something dangerous.
"And?" he said smoothly.
Esme stared at him, feeling something inside her snap. "And?" she repeated in disbelief. "You're engaged! You're supposed to act like a man who's about to get married, not—" She broke off, shaking her head, her hands trembling. "Not like some… careless bastard who doesn't respect his fiancée's presence!"
Silence hung between them for a long moment.
Then Kael stepped closer.
His presence was suffocating, his scent—dark and intoxicating—filling the space between them. He tilted his head slightly, observing her with that same unreadable expression.
"So, you were jealous," he murmured.
Esme's breath hitched.
Her nails dug into her palms. "That's not—"
"Because if you weren't," he interrupted, his voice low, measured, "you wouldn't care who I entertained tonight."
Esme's lips parted, but no words came out.
Because he was right.
And she hated it.
Kael's gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before he let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "I told you, Esme," he murmured, his voice like silk laced with poison. "I don't lose."
And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Esme standing there, her heart pounding, her mind reeling.
She had fallen right into his trap.
And the worst part?
She wasn't sure she wanted to climb out of it.
To be continued…
****. ****. ****.