Page 63 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I let my gaze wander over her a moment too long. She was stripped raw, physically and emotionally. Seducing her right now might be easier than ever because her defenses were down. Yet some spark of conscience (how irritating) told me to show restraint. Still, I’d made plans, and we had to eat.

I cleared my throat. “I’ve asked the kitchens to prepare something special for dinner. You’ve progressed remarkably with your magic, and I’d like to… talk.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I doubt that’s the entire reason?”

An involuntary smirk crossed my face. “Must you always suspect an ulterior motive?”

“Yes,” she snapped, “because you always have one.”

She had me there. “Let’s call it a chance to discuss your father’s letter after you’ve had time to rest.”

Arabella studied me. Finally, she exhaled. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be pleasant company.”

I gave her a slight bow. “I’d be disappointed if you were.”

There might have been the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth. I motioned for her to walk with me, and we headed down the corridor. She steadied her shoulders with every step, refusing to show weakness no matter how tired she was. At her chamber door, she paused, hand resting on the handle.

“Lord Blackrose,” she said, still not meeting my eyes. “You could have just hidden the letter, but you didn’t. So… thank you.”

The genuine note in her voice wrenched at something in my chest. “Our agreement includes honesty,” I managed. “Even when it’s unpleasant.”

A flicker passed over her face, maybe gratitude or relief, before she opened the door and stepped inside. I found myself staring at the carved wood, as if I could see past it to the woman who’d become the biggest chaos factor in my carefully ordered life.

With a muttered oath, I turned and strode toward the war room. My father-in-law wanted a ransom. My Heirloom demanded a “true” consummation I’d so far delayed. And I had a wife whose loyalty—or at least partnership—I needed to secure.

If I played my cards right tonight, I might start unraveling all of these knots. Then again, if I failed, I’d have one more reason to curse Lord Evenfall to the bitter end. Either way, dinner promised to be interesting.

I cracked my knuckles, letting my mind swirl with the details. First things first: a letter to respond to, a seduction to refine, and a father-in-law to put in his place.

I couldn’t help a dark smile. Villainy was never dull.

27

CHARM HER WITH CHEMISTRY (SIDE-EFFECT: IMMEDIATE NAPTIME)

KAZIMIR

I lifted the crystal decanter with a flourish. “More wine?”

Arabella considered it briefly, then held out her glass. “Why not?” she said. “It’s excellent.”

I filled her goblet slowly, letting my fingertips barely graze hers in the process. It was a small gesture, the kind that skirted our rules but didn’t break them outright. To my surprise, she didn’t wrench her hand away. A promising sign.

We were alone in my private dining room, illuminated by candles and a roaring fire. I’d dismissed the servants after the main course, preferring the intimacy of pouring wine myself.

She took another bite of venison, closing her eyes for a moment as she savored the flavor. “I never expected such refined cuisine in a villain’s lair,” she remarked. The glow from the candles highlighted the gold in her hair, setting them ablaze against her deep green gown.

“We villains have standards,” I replied, swirling my own wine. “Good food keeps everyone happy.”

“Is that part of some official dark lord doctrine—right between ‘always monologue before killing your enemies’ and ‘ensure your fortress has dramatic lighting’?”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning complete seriousness. “Chapter three. Right after the section on cloak maintenance.”

She rewarded me with a genuine smile, one I found unexpectedly magnetic. The easy humor in the air was exactly what I’d planned for: a slow seduction built on gentle teasing, excellent food, and just a hint of the right enhancements. By design, the wine and the carefully curated dishes contained subtle aphrodisiacs. They were meant to loosen her inhibitions, encourage her to escalate. I had hoped she’d respond to them. Instead, she seemed comfortable but hardly beguiled.

“Speaking of protocol,” I said, shifting in my seat and leaning forward, “I’ve noticed you never call me by my given name.”

She paused mid-bite, blinked, and set her fork aside. “Don’t I?”

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