EVERY MINUTE AND EVERY BITE

Kian let out a measured sigh, his tone calm yet authoritative.

"What brings you here?" he questioned, his voice smooth as silk, effortlessly commanding attention.

He crossed the room with purpose, a confident stride that showcased his presence. Approaching his table, he poured himself a drink, the liquid catching the light—perhaps just water to quench his thirst.

"My diary. The one you took without my permission," I stated firmly, my voice steady despite the underlying tension.

I whispered the last part, a deliberate choice to emphasize my discontent. He heard me and chose to disregard it, instead reaching for the book lying on the table and making his way back towards me.

"I didn't read all of it," he asserted, handing the diary back to me. I grasped it tightly, my fingers digging into the edges as a mixture of surprise and irritation surged within me. "I apologize for taking it," he muttered, and I froze momentarily, processing his words.

A proud man like him, known for his disdain towards omegas, extending an olive branch? It was nothing short of astonishing. I raised my head to meet his gaze, momentarily forgetting the hierarchy.

However, just as quickly, I lowered my eyes again, conceding only enough to acknowledge him with a nod and a curtsey before turning to leave. But then, I felt his hand clasp my wrist, a firm grip that both stunned and stirred something deep within me.

"Have you had anything yet?" he inquired, his question surprising me further.

Why was he asking me such personal things? I cursed under my breath, reminding myself that he was my mate—though he had rejected me. Now, he seemed eager to reestablish something, but I had made it clear that he would have to put in the effort.

Was this a genuine concern or another attempt to toy with me?

"I have work, Your Majesty," I replied, keeping my tone neutral and my gaze firmly grounded to avoid giving in to the whirlwind of mixed emotions.

"Stay here and eat with me," he ordered, the command straightforward yet strangely enticing. My heart raced at the prospect—what better way to bond than sharing a meal with your mate? Yet, uncertainty lingered in the back of my mind. What was driving this sudden interest? Was it jealousy or a desire to possess me?

I couldn't forget his history of disdain towards omegas. This could easily be a game for him, a fleeting impulse that would vanish as quickly as it arose.

"I won't get paid if I sit and dine with you, Your Majesty," I countered assertively.

"I'll pay you for every minute and bite," he countered effortlessly. Just then, there was a knock at the door, and I withdrew my hand from his grasp, feeling his intent stare on me as I clutched my diary tightly against my chest.

He ordered the maids to enter, and they wheeled in a lavish trolley filled with food that made my mouth water—the contrast between his regal meal and what I typically consumed was striking. The sight was mesmerizing: crispy fried chicken, succulent grilled meats, vibrant vegetables, fragrant rice, and steaming bowls of noodle soup—all artfully arranged as they set the table.

"We shall take our leave, Your Majesty," they announced in unison, and he waved them off, leaving me alone with him, caught in a web of uncertainty.

A tinge of guilt tugged at me; I knew Wren would be furious for my absence. I'd already missed the gathering, and time was slipping away.

"Have a seat," he commanded, indicating the regal chair in the corner of the room, as if it were my rightful place.

"Can I trust you to pay me?" I shot back, leveling my gaze at him, testing the sincerity of his promise.

"I don't go back on my word," he replied, his unwavering stare holding mine.

The intensity in his gaze was undeniable, and I found myself compelled to move towards the table, my heart pounding with determination as I approached the chair.

As I settled into my seat, he lifted a covered plate, revealing a delicate pink cake topped with glistening cherries. My breath hitched at the sight. The cake was a luxury I had never tasted—only dreamed of while doodling in my diary.

During past birthdays, my mother prepared simple, heartfelt meals for me, and that had been enough in our small world.

"I had them make it because you didn't celebrate your birthday. You like the color pink and cherries, don't you?" he said softly, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth.

He must have truly taken the time to read my diary.

Then he bluntly stated that he hadn't read my diary in full, which indicated he must have stopped at the unmistakable warning sign I had placed.

If he had persevered and absorbed every last detail, he would be furious—potentially even contemplating my execution.

I swallowed hard at the chilling realization, a shiver racing down my spine. Yet as I paused to reflect, a new certainty took hold: there was no way he had ventured into the depths of my most provocative fantasies. He must have seen the wild sexual desires that lay waiting within those pages.

My cheeks were suddenly aflame.

"Hazel," he called, his tone gentle, yet it held an authority that commanded my attention.

"Cut the cake." He handed me a beautifully crafted kitchen knife designed specifically for this task. I gripped it firmly, my hands steadying as I approached the decadent cake. As I sliced into it, I felt a sense of purpose swell within me.

The moment I took my first bite, I was met with a flavor explosion that confirmed my long-held beliefs—this cake was divine. It wasn't merely sweet; it was a luxurious blend of rich butter and sugar that melded together in a way that surpassed all my expectations. The creamy topping was the icing on the cake—literally—a delightful sweetness that left me yearning for more.

"Do you like it?" he asked, the intensity of his gaze piercing through the air as he, too, partook of the cake.

"Yes, your majesty," I replied confidently, a smile breaking across my lips as I savored each bite. There was no denying the cake was beyond exquisite. Each mouthful was a testament to culinary mastery, while the chicken on the plate was a revelation—seasoned to perfection, bursting with bold flavors that invigorated my senses. It was a stark contrast to the uninspired meals I used to eat in the castle. With every bite, I felt empowered, reveling in the skills and care that had gone into this meal.

When I finished, I was ready for my reward, fully expecting the promised payment. He met my expectations by presenting me with two glimmering golden coins, their brilliance radiating under the light. The weight of them in my hand was staggering—two golden coins equated to an impressive 1000 bronze and 500 silver. This was a fortune compared to the mere 500 bronze I earned from my tireless work in the castle.

I stood in awe. I just ate to my satisfaction and got two golden coins?