Chapter Twenty - Flirt Over Jealousy
CASSIUS
The evening air was thick with the scent of ale and pipe smoke, the lively chatter of patrons filling the dimly lit bar. The wooden beams overhead bore the weight of countless stories whispered over mugs of mead, and I found myself sinking into the easy familiarity of it all.
I just wanted to follow Darius's advice for a while, even though I know I'll regret it.
I swirled the amber liquid in my cup, my sliver eyes scanning the room with an amused detachment until I felt the weight of someone’s gaze.
A woman.
She lounged against the bar, her emerald-green dress hugging her curves in a way that left little to the imagination. Dark auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in untamed waves, and her lips curled into a knowing smirk as our eyes met.
I raised a brow, feigning indifference as I took another sip of my drink, but the glint in her gaze told me she saw right through it.
She didn’t look away. Neither did I.
This could be my chance of having the kind of fun Darius had with women. Flirt. Deceive. Sleep with them. Pay.
With an effortless sway of her hips, she sauntered toward me, the low candlelight casting flickering shadows across her sharp, striking features. When she stopped in front of me, close enough for me to catch the faint scent of jasmine and wild berries, she tilted her head.
"You've been staring," she teased, her voice rich with amusement.
I leaned back against the bar, my lips twitching upward. "And here I thought it was you staring at me."
She hummed, dragging a delicate finger along the rim of my cup. "Can’t a girl appreciate a fine view?"
I chuckled, setting my drink aside. She really does know how to flirt. "Flattery will get you everywhere."
She laughed, a sound that wrapped around me like velvet, and reached for the bottle of wine resting nearby. Pouring herself a glass, she took a slow, deliberate sip, her gaze never leaving mine. "Tell me, Prince Cassius, do you always haunt bars alone, or am I special?"
"That depends. And to my greatest surprise, you know my name." I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a low murmur. "Are you hoping to be?"
Her smirk deepened. "Who wouldn't know the cutest and smartest of all Dravens?" She leaned close to my ear and whispered, "But you... you are dangerous," her voice romantic enough.
I grinned. "And yet, you’re still here." My eyes locked into hers.
She took another sip before setting her glass down. "Perhaps I like a bit of danger."
I studied her for a moment, the firelight casting golden hues across her face. There was something alluring about her, a sharpness beneath the teasing glances and sultry charm. A woman like her wasn’t just looking for a fleeting dalliance—she played for keeps, for power, for control. And yet, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to resist.
"What's your name, Angel?" I asked, my voice low, almost like a whisper.
"Fiona," she said, like she can't resist my looks. I placed my hand on her chin, my thumb touching the bottom of her red lips.
"You look beautiful. Dance with me, Fiona," I said suddenly, pushing off the bar.
Fiona arched a brow. "You? Dancing?"
I smirked. "You’ll find I’m full of surprises."
She let me take her hand, allowing herself to be led onto the small dance floor where a few other couples swayed to the soft melody of a lute. My grip was firm but not forceful as I guided her effortlessly across the floor.
The warmth of my palm against hers sent a strange thrill through her, but she masked it well, matching my steps with practiced ease.
"You’re not bad," she admitted, eyes gleaming. I twirled her, catching her neatly as she spun back into my chest. "I could say the same for you."
Fiona exhaled a small laugh, tilting her head up at me. "Are you always this charming?"
"Only with beautiful women."
She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away.
The dance slowed, leaving us standing a breath apart, the world around us fading into the background. I studied her, my thumb lightly brushing over the back of her hand.
"Could we go somewhere more private?" My mind went blank when I heard that, but I masked it. I thought men were the ones to ask that.
"Hmm. Why? Here isn't convenient enough?" I said in a cool voice.
"I just want only the two of us. Let's have a private talk together," she said, moving her eyes round my body.
I smirked, "Maybe when next we meet, our talk will be more than private then," I continued. "Come to the ball this weekend," I murmured.
Fiona searched my gaze, something unreadable flickering in her expression. "The palace ball?"
"The very same."
She exhaled, amusement coloring her tone. "And here I thought you didn’t invite just anyone into your world."
I smirked. "You’re not just anyone."
"But you turn down my request."
"Not just ready to talk... privately" I said.
For a moment, Fiona said nothing, as if weighing the offer. Then, she leaned up, her lips barely brushing against my cheek as she whispered, "I’ll think about it."
Before I could reply, she pulled away, disappearing back into the crowd with a lingering glance over her shoulder.
I watched her go, the ghost of her touch still warming my skin. When I finally thought I was going to have fun, I turned it down with my own hands.
I finished the rest of my drink in one gulp, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips. The weekend ball was going to be interesting.