Page 24 of Made for Saints

He sat with his arm draped lazily over the back of the chair beside him, finishing the last bite of his meal. He looked completely at ease, like this was his house, as if he wasn’t a guest but the one in charge. The sight of it made me bristle, hating how effortlessly he seemed to fit into a world that was supposed to be mine.

“Maybe I just don’t have anything to say,” I replied, my tone clipped, even though I could feel the heat of his attention without him even looking directly at me.

“Doubtful.” He smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting as his dark eyes flicked to me, gleaming with amusement. “You always have something to say, princess.”

I shot him a glare, my hands curling into fists beneath the table. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” He tilted his head slightly, finally turning to look at me fully, his gaze roaming over my face like I was an endlessly fascinating puzzle. “It suits you.”

“It’s patronizing, and it’s condescending,” I shot back. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“No,” he said, his smirk softening into something closer to genuine. “You’re not.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or something else entirely. I didn’t like the way it made my stomach flip—hot and unsteady, like my body couldn’t decide whether to lean in closer or put as much space between us as possible.

It was infuriating, the way he looked at me. Like he could see straight through my carefully constructed walls, peeling away the layers with nothing but those dark, piercing eyes. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, his lips curved into that maddening smirk that made my breath hitch before I could stop it. He was too much—too confident, too composed, too damn attractive for someone who had just barged into my life and turned it upside down.

I hated the way my skin prickled under his gaze, the way my pulse seemed to pick up its pace whenever he was near. It was dangerous, the way he affected me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to find out just how much worse it could get.

“Then stop calling me princess,” I said again, more firmly this time, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

“Sure.” He shrugged, his voice casual. “What would you prefer? Queen? Boss? Or maybe something softer—darling? Sweetheart?” His lips curved into that infuriating smirk again. “I could get creative.”

I glared at him, leaning forward slightly. “How about you know, my actual name?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He leaned back, completely unfazed by my irritation. “You’re more fun when you’re annoyed.”

“Glad I could entertain you,” I deadpanned, crossing my arms.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his tone playful now, like he was baiting me on purpose.

“Why are you still here?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be off plotting world domination or something?”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “I like this version of you. Feisty suits you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I pressed, hoping he’d take the hint.

“Not really.” He tilted his head, studying me. “And even if I did, I think I’d rather stay here. You’re much more interesting and better looking than your father.”

“Wow,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Flattery really isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“I wasn’t trying to flatter you,” he replied smoothly. “Just stating a fact.”

I huffed, leaning back in my chair. “Well, I’m not here to amuse you.”

“Too bad,” he said, his tone light but still somehow serious. “You’re doing a good job of it anyway.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out what his angle was. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Do you?” he shot back, his smirk widening.

I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it again, realizing he’d trapped me in my own argument. He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself, and I hated how smug he looked.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“And you’re stubborn,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “But I like that about you.”

I froze for half a second, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. He wasn’t smirking anymore, and for the first time, his gaze felt...steady. Like he wasn’t just teasing me anymore.

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