A midnight encounter

Amelia found herself standing outside the grand chamber doors, her fingers clutching a woven basket filled with an assortment of ripe fruits. The cool night air sent a shiver down her spine, but it was nothing compared to the nervous energy coursing through her veins. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she reached out and knocked.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing Ceaser Romano, the enigmatic prince she was betrothed to. The sight of him rendered her momentarily breathless. He stood before her, clad in nothing but a loosely tied robe, his damp black hair falling messily over his forehead. Droplets of water slid down his chiseled jaw and trailed along the ridges of his sculpted abs before disappearing beneath the folds of his robe.

Amelia gulped. She had come here with a purpose, but seeing him like this—so effortlessly alluring—made her mind go blank.

Ceaser's deep, icy-blue eyes locked onto hers with quiet intensity. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, scrutinizing her with an unreadable expression.

"I asked you something," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Amelia blinked, realizing she hadn't answered. She shook herself out of her trance. "O-Oh… umm…" Her gaze darted around the room, searching for something—anything—to anchor herself. Then, she spotted the small table near the balcony and latched onto an excuse.

"I… I brought you some fruit," she blurted out, lifting the basket slightly.

Ceaser's brow arched in skepticism. He followed her gaze, his sharp features etched with disbelief.

"You thought I might be hungry at this hour?" His tone was laced with amusement, but there was an underlying hint of suspicion.

Amelia nodded quickly. "Y-Yes! You train hard all day. I thought… maybe you'd like a late-night snack?"

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then, Ceaser exhaled a quiet chuckle and stepped aside, allowing her entry.

"You didn't have to bring it yourself," he murmured as she moved past him. "There are maids for that."

Amelia placed the basket on the table and turned to face him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "But you're going to be my husband, right? Isn't it a wife's duty to do small things like this for her husband?"

Ceaser's gaze darkened. He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. "We're not married," he reminded her.

"Yet," Amelia countered, raising her chin defiantly.

Something flickered in Ceaser's eyes. Amusement? Frustration? She couldn't tell. He merely turned and walked toward the balcony, pouring himself a glass of wine.

Amelia followed hesitantly, standing beside him as he took a slow sip.

"Is that wine?" she asked. "Can I have some?"

Ceaser looked at her sideways. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," she answered promptly. "I'll be nineteen soon."

"Still a child," he said dismissively.

"I'm not a child!" she huffed, crossing her arms.

Ceaser smirked. "Only children say things like that."

Amelia pouted. "You're not that much older than me."

Ceaser raised a brow. "How do you know that?"

She faltered. "I… I just guessed."

He let out a small chuckle before setting his glass down. "If you're done here, go back to your room."

Amelia frowned. "But I—"

"It's not safe for an Omega to be alone in an Alpha's chambers this late," he interrupted, his voice carrying an edge of finality.

Amelia's heart skipped a beat. Omega? Alpha? These terms weren't new, but coming from him, they sent an unfamiliar warmth rushing through her.

"But… you're an Enigma," she whispered, looking up at him.

Ceaser's lips curled into a smirk. "That's even more dangerous."

She took a step back instinctively, but he followed. His tall frame towered over hers, the air between them growing thick with something unspoken.

"You don't look that dangerous to me," she murmured, but her voice was shaky.

Ceaser chuckled, low and deep. "Oh?" He took another step forward.

Amelia's back hit the wall, and she realized she was trapped. Her breath hitched as Ceaser reached up, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Their faces were inches apart. The scent of wine lingered on his breath, intoxicating and heady.

"You still think I'm not dangerous?" he whispered.

Amelia's pulse thundered in her ears. She wanted to speak, but her throat had gone dry.

Ceaser's gaze flickered down to her lips, just for a second, before he abruptly stepped back. The loss of his proximity left her reeling.

"Go to your room, Amelia," he said, his voice returning to its usual indifferent tone.

"I…" she hesitated. "I heard you're going hunting tomorrow. Can I come along?"

"No," Ceaser answered immediately.

"Please?"

"No."

"I promise I won't disturb you!"

Ceaser sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't like persistent brats."

Amelia grinned. "Only this once. Please?" She widened her eyes, playing the innocent card.

Ceaser exhaled a slow breath, his gaze lingering on her face. "I'll think about it," he said finally. "Now, go."

Amelia beamed. "Okay!" She turned on her heels, skipping toward the door before pausing. She looked over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Ceaser."

Ceaser watched her with an unreadable expression. "See you tomorrow," he murmured.

As Amelia stepped into the corridor, she felt her heart racing. She had come here with the simple intention of bringing him fruit, but she had left with something far more exhilarating—a glimpse into the enigmatic man she was destined to marry.

And if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that Ceaser Romano was going to be a challenge.

A challenge she was more than willing to take on.