Chapter 5 5

Prince Mathew.

She waggled her eyebrows up and down playfully, a triumphant little smirk on her face as she enjoyed the moment of my utter confusion. "I just wanted to know if I could trust you or not..." she explained, drawing out the words. She paused for a dramatic effect, letting the heavy, unspoken question hang in the air between us.

The elevator dinged softly as we reached the suite level. Just as the doors began to slide open, she trailed off, adding the final, explosive piece of information as casually as if she were commenting on the weather. "Because I do sleep naked."

My brain short-circuited. What the actual fuck!!!!!!!!!!! The words screamed inside my head. She sleeps naked?!

My feet felt glued to the floor of the elevator. How in heaven's name was I supposed to sleep in the same suite, just rooms away, from a naked, incredibly attractive girl? The mental image alone was enough to send a jolt straight through me.

No way. Absolutely no way could I resist that kind of temptation. And after all, I had a type, and it was not this. I had never fallen for a virgin human girl before-not even with a she-wolf were-girl from the Northern packs! I wasn't into virgins, their wide-eyed innocence and complicated emotions, nor was I interested in any kind of real, tangled relationship. My stone heart, carefully fortified over decades, couldn't be melted by her hellfire charm, no matter how warm it felt.

At least, that was what I desperately tried to tell myself.

As we finally stepped out onto the plush, silent carpet of the penthouse hallway, our footsteps were completely muffled. The luxurious surroundings-the soft golden lighting, the original art on the walls-only heightened the surreal, almost dreamlike nature of the moment.

I led her down the wide corridor toward the double doors of my private suite, my mind racing a million miles a minute with conflicting thoughts. Why was she testing me? What was the real game here? What did this unpredictable young woman actually want from me?

I slid the keycard and pushed the door open. The suite's interior was vast and opulent, welcoming us with an air of cool, expensive sophistication. The living area was expansive, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering city skyline. It was decorated with elegant, minimalist furniture and a few carefully chosen art pieces that reflected my taste-powerful, bold, and uncluttered.

"Well, welcome to my humble abode," I said, gesturing for her to enter first. I attempted to lighten the thick atmosphere with a joke, my voice sounding a little strained even to my own ears.

She stepped inside slowly, her eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail like an excited tourist. Her earlier alarm was completely gone, replaced by pure wonder. "Wow. Mathew, this is... it's not a hotel suite, it's a whole apartment! It's beautiful! You really, really live in style."

I managed a more genuine smile, appreciating her unfiltered enthusiasm. It was refreshing. "Thank you. I'll admit, it's a little extravagant, but I like to keep my personal space comfortable. It's my sanctuary."

As she wandered further into the suite, running her fingers over the back of a velvet sofa, I couldn't help but admire her. She was so youthful, so vibrant and full of unscripted energy. It was a stark contrast to the serious, calculated world of business and politics I usually inhabited. But that same thrilling youthfulness made me deeply wary. I had to consciously remind myself, like a mantra: Alex's daughter. Partner's daughter. Off-limits.

"So," she began, plopping down onto the huge, plush sofa and tucking her legs comfortably beneath her, "what does a powerful guy like you usually do in all this free space when you're not working? You know, in your free time?" She said the words "free time" as if it were a mythical concept.

I hesitated for a moment, leaning against the arm of a chair opposite her, choosing my words with extreme care. "Well, my life does come with a lot of responsibilities. But when I do manage to carve out some time for myself... I enjoy reading. Traveling to places where no one knows my name. And sometimes, honestly, I just enjoy the silence and relaxing right here."

She tilted her head, her curiosity clearly piqued. "What do you read? Please don't tell me it's all dry business reports and financial journals." She made a mock-serious face.

I couldn't help but chuckle, appreciating her insight. "Not all of it, no. I actually enjoy fiction. A good story is a great escape from my reality."

Her whole expression brightened. "Really? Okay, that's cool. What's your all-time favorite book? The one you'd save from a burning building."

I actually had to consider that for a moment. It was a good question. "I'd have to say The Great Gatsby," I said finally. "It's a classic for a reason. A fascinating, tragic exploration of wealth, illusion, love, and the whole idea of the American Dream."

"Ooh, interesting choice!" she said, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest. "I've always meant to read that, but I never got around to it. It just seemed so... serious." She grinned. "Maybe you could lend me your copy sometime? If you have one here?"

The request felt oddly intimate. "Sure," I replied, feeling a strange and unwelcome sense of connection. "I think I have a first edition in the library. I can do that."

We kept talking, and to my surprise, the conversation began to flow more easily than I had ever anticipated. She shared funny, self-deprecating anecdotes from her life abroad, her disastrous attempts at cooking, and the weirdness of living in a dorm. I found myself genuinely laughing at her stories, disarmed by her candidness and sharp humor.

But as the conversation deepened, venturing into more personal tastes in music and dreams of traveling the world, I felt the heavy weight of my earlier resolve pressing down on me again. I was enjoying this too much. I had to maintain boundaries. I couldn't let myself be swayed by this natural, easy charm.

Just then, my phone buzzed loudly on the glass coffee table, shattering the moment. I picked it up, my stomach lurching as I saw Alex's name flash on the screen. Speak of the devil. "Excuse me for just a moment," I said, swiping to answer the call. "Alex. Hello."

"Mathew!" his familiar voice boomed through the speaker, loud enough that I was sure Viola could hear it. "How's everything going over there? She arrive in one piece?"

I glanced at Viola, who was now watching me with an intense, curious expression. "It's going perfectly well. No problems at all. Just settling in here at the hotel with your daughter," I replied, carefully keeping my tone light and professional.

"Good, good!" he joked, his laughter echoing in my ear. "I hope she's not causing you too much trouble. She can be a livewire!"

I forced a chuckle, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just a tiny bit at his familiar, oblivious tone. "No trouble at all, Alex. We're just having a nice chat, getting to know each other."

"Excellent! I knew I could count on you. I trust you're taking good care of her. Remember, she's precious to me," he said, and his tone shifted slightly, carrying the subtle weight of a father's warning beneath the joviality.

"I've got it under control," I assured him, my voice steady and confident, belying the inner chaos. "She's perfectly safe."

"Great! I'll check in with you later tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything at all," he said before hanging up.

I set the phone down slowly on the table. The room felt quieter than before. Viola was still watching me, her gaze now softer.

"What did he say?" she asked, pulling a throw pillow onto her lap.

"Just the usual dad stuff," I replied, trying to keep it casual. "Checking in. Making sure you hadn't driven me crazy or I hadn't lost you already."

A faint, sad smile touched her lips. "Do you think he actually worries about me? I mean, really worries?"

I hesitated, not wanting to step into the minefield of their family dynamics. "I think he cares about you deeply, Viola. He talks about you... well, when he does, it's with pride. Parents worry. It's what they do, especially when their kids are far away in a big city."

She nodded, her expression turning thoughtful and a little distant. "I know he loves me, in his own way. But sometimes... it feels like he loves the idea of me. Like he doesn't really know me at all. The real me."

I felt a sharp pang of sympathy for her. It was a feeling I understood all too well from my own privileged yet isolated upbringing. "It can be tough," I said gently. "Especially with lives as busy as his... as ours. But that distance doesn't mean he doesn't care. It just means he might not know how to show it the way you need him to."

She looked directly at me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of profound loneliness in her eyes. "Do you think it's possible to feel completely and utterly alone even when you're surrounded by people? Like, really surrounded?"

I considered her question, the weight of it sinking in. This was more than just small talk. "Absolutely," I said, my voice quiet. "Loneliness isn't really about physical presence, is it? It's about connection. It's about feeling truly seen and understood by someone."

She smiled a soft, grateful smile, her gaze lingering on me. "You get it. You actually understand. I appreciate that, Mathew. I really do."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air thickening with unspoken emotions and a sudden, palpable intimacy. I felt an undeniable pull toward her, a desire to bridge the gap between our worlds and soothe that loneliness I saw in her. But the ring of Alex's voice was still echoing in my head.

"Let's not get too deep into the heavy philosophy tonight," I said, clapping my hands together and standing up, trying desperately to lighten the mood back to a safer level. "How about we do something actually fun? I have a state-of-the-art game console I never use. We could play a stupid racing game. Or put on a movie. Your pick."

Her face instantly lit up, all traces of melancholy gone, and I felt my stupid heart race at her excitement. "Yes! A thousand times yes! I love video games! My dad never lets me play them; he says they rot your brain."

"Well, tonight," I said, leading her over to the large media cabinet, "consider your brain officially scheduled for rot."

We spent the next hour lost in a ridiculously competitive kart racing game, laughing and shouting and teasing each other mercilessly every time one of us crashed. It was a welcome, necessary distraction, a way to forget the impossible complexities of our situation and just be two people having fun.

But as the night wore on and we finally settled down, breathless and exhausted from the playful competition, the tension began to simmer right back to the surface. We were slumped on opposite ends of the large sofa, the city lights twinkling outside the dark windows.

I glanced over at her, noticing how the soft blue glow from the TV illuminated her features. She looked beautiful, and happy, and I felt a dangerous flicker of something warm and possessive stirring deep within me.

"Mathew?" she said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. Her voice was quiet.

"Hmm?" I replied, my heart immediately kicking into a faster rhythm. "What's up?"

"Can I ask you something? A real question."

"Of course," I said, turning my body to face her more fully. "Ask me anything."

She took a small breath, as if gathering courage. "Why do you think people are drawn to each other? Like, really drawn? Is it just... physical attraction? Chemistry? Or is there something more to it?"

Her question caught me completely off guard. It was so direct. "That's a... that's a pretty complicated question for a late-night chat," I said, stalling as I searched for the right, careful words. "I think it can be both. Physical attraction can be the initial spark, the thing that pulls you in. But a real, lasting connection... that's about the emotional stuff. The friendship. It's what keeps people together when the spark inevitably fades a little."

She nodded, absorbing my response. "And what if the emotional connection is... complicated from the start? What if it's kind of... taboo?" She held my gaze, not looking away.

I felt a cold chill run down my spine. She was steering us right back to the edge. "Then it becomes infinitely more complicated," I said, my voice cautious and low. "Sometimes, the heart wants what it logically knows it shouldn't have. And that's a dangerous path."

She looked at me intently, her expression completely unreadable. "Do you think that's true for... us?"

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. My heart was pounding against my ribs. "Viola," I said, my voice firm but gentle. "We need to keep things clear here. You are my partner's daughter. My good friend's child. That's a line. I can't... I won't let this go any further than a friendly chat."

She bit her lip, and a hint of that earlier mischief returned to her eyes, mixed with a bold challenge. "What if I want it to? Go further, I mean."

I felt as if the ground beneath me was crumbling away. "You don't fully understand the implications of what you're saying. The damage it could do."

"Maybe I do," she challenged, her gaze unwavering and surprisingly mature. "Maybe I understand more than you think. And maybe I'm willing to take the risk."

I could feel the tension building between us, the air so thick with unspoken desires it was hard to breathe. Every instinct was screaming to close the distance between us. But I clung to my resolve. I couldn't allow myself to be drawn into this.

"Viola, please," I said, my voice firmer now, a note of pleading in it. "I can't let you manipulate this situation. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me. And it's certainly not fair to your father."

She looked genuinely hurt for a moment, her confident mask slipping, and then her expression softened into something more vulnerable. "I'm not trying to manipulate you, Mathew. I swear I'm not. I just... I just want to feel something real. Something that isn't planned or arranged or done for appearances."

I felt my heart ache for her. The loneliness was back in her voice. "I understand that. I really do. But we have to be incredibly careful. There's too much at stake here. Careers. Relationships. Your family."

She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I get it. I do. I just thought that maybe, with you..."

I reached out almost without thinking, lifting her chin gently with my finger so her eyes met mine again. "You're so young, Viola. You have your entire, amazing life ahead of you. Don't rush into something complicated that you might deeply regret later. You deserve a simple, happy beginning."

She searched my eyes, and I could see the war raging within her between desire and sense. "I appreciate you saying that, Mathew. I appreciate you being the responsible one. But... it doesn't really change how I feel right now, in this moment."

I sighed, knowing that our connection, however wrong, was undeniably real. "Feelings are powerful, but we have to focus on what's right, not just on what feels good in the moment."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her expression becoming resolute. "Okay. Okay, you're right. I'll... I'll try to be more careful. I'll try to behave." A small, wry smile appeared. "But I can't promise that I can just turn off what I feel."

I nodded, understanding the struggle all too well. "That's all I can ask for. Just... try."

We fell into a heavy but comfortable silence, the weight of our entire conversation lingering in the air around us.

I couldn't shake the undeniable feeling that this turbulent night was far from over; it was just the beginning of something deeply complex and dangerously captivating.