Chapter Seven: Pages and Promises
By the time Amanda returned to her dorm, the sky had already begun to soften into late afternoon gold.
Four o'clock.
She liked having control of her time.
She cooked something simple. Ate quietly. Let the rhythm of normalcy steady her thoughts. Afterward, she showered, letting warm water ease the tension from training.
By six, she was in soft pajamas, curled on her bed with a book resting in her hands.
Make Me Glow by Coril Sanvi.
One of her favorites.
She lost herself in the pages until—
Knock. Knock.
Seven sharp.
Then his voice from the other side, smooth and measured:
"Arthur Grayhound requesting entry."
She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped.
She didn't bother with her veil this time.
When she opened the door—
They locked eyes.
And for a second, the world thinned.
He was wearing black silk pajamas.
Simple.
Loose.
Effortless.
Yet somehow devastating.
Her gaze flickered away first.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
His eyes lowered slightly, taking her in—not hungrily, but appreciatively. A soft smile curved his lips.
"How are you?" he asked calmly.
She flushed deeper. "Don't be so obvious, you idiot."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with quiet confidence. One arm slipped around her waist. The other lifted her chin gently.
"Sorry," he murmured teasingly. "I'm bad at following orders. I wasn't well trained."
Her breath caught.
"I didn't say you could touch yet," she replied, trying for composure. "I suppose I'll have to train you myself."
Arthur smiled faintly—
Then his attention shifted.
To her bed.
To the book resting there.
His expression changed instantly.
"Is that Make Me Glow by Coril Sanvi?" he asked, suddenly animated. "I've been looking everywhere for that premium copy."
He picked it up with genuine excitement, flipping through the pages like a scholar discovering treasure.
Amanda blinked.
…Books?
He looked almost boyish.
"Oh," she said slowly. "You read?"
Arthur glanced at her like she'd asked if he breathed. "Of course. I have volumes one through sixty-seven in my private collection. But this edition?" He shook his head. "Impossible to acquire."
She stared at him for a moment.
She had expected brooding.
Possessive glances.
Quiet dominance.
She hadn't expected enthusiasm over literature.
And somehow—
That made her smile more than anything else.
Without thinking too much about it, she gently pushed him back onto the bed. He fell with quiet surprise, still holding the book.
She climbed over him, straddling his waist, reclaiming the novel.
"We can do both," she said softly. "I'll read it out loud for us… and then you can…"
Her words trailed off, cheeks warm.
Arthur understood immediately.
He relaxed against the pillows, one arm wrapping securely around her as she began to read.
Her voice filled the room, gentle and steady.
Occasionally, he would tease her—pressing a light kiss against her shoulder, brushing his lips near her ear just enough to make her stumble over a sentence.
Once, he kissed the scar he knew was sensitive.
She swatted him lightly.
"Behave."
"I am," he replied innocently.
Two hours passed like that.
No battles.
No politics.
No rivalries.
Just warmth.
When nine o'clock arrived, Arthur reluctantly rose. He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"Goodnight, Amanda."
She nodded, pretending her pulse wasn't racing.
After he left—
She collapsed backward onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her heart was pounding far too fast for someone who had only read a book.
"Oh no," she whispered to herself.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
"I'm falling for him."
The end...