After our conversation, we both left for our own rooms. I wished that he called me for, let's say, pillow talk, but he didn't.

After a short breakfast, doing my best not to remember my porridge blunder yesterday, I checked my phone. The possible scripts Levi chose for me to audition were forwarded. Do I pursue it?

Part of me was scared of losing our newly balanced dynamic, which was still hanging by a thin thread. Another part of me was desperately craving the attention of a spotlight. Let's be real, there was a possibility of Levi completely vanishing from my life, so I should take whatever I could.

I decided to attend the auditions.

The white of the audition room was blinding under the harsh spotlights. My heart pounded against my ribs as I stepped into the marked square, the script clutched in my trembling hand. I chose a monologue, a raw, emotional piece about betrayal, and let the words flow. I moved with practiced grace, my voice filling the room, each syllable laced with a carefully crafted intensity. I paused, holding the silence, my eyes fixed on the casting director, gauging their reaction. A flicker of intrigue crossed their face, and a small smile played on my lips.

They're watching. They're actually watching. Nothing is more ecstatic.

"So," the casting director said, leaning forward, their voice cutting through the silence, "your agency… they're quite dedicated, aren't they?"

"They've been with me since I arrived in Ascaria," I replied, my voice warm, sincere. "They helped me with everything. Language, acting, everything."

"Levi mentioned you were… considering other options," the casting director said, a subtle probe. My smile tightened. Levi. Little shit.

"My agency has been more than supportive. I am not considering other options."

The casting director raised an eyebrow. "This role… it would be quite a boost to your career. But it would be easier to work directly with Levi's contacts."

I was trying my best not to show my frustration with my smile.

"I am happy with the contacts that I have." My voice was firm. Do not give your attention to him. Focus on me.

"Alright," the casting director said, a hint of respect in their voice. "Let's see some physicality."

I launched into the next scene, a raw, visceral fight sequence. I wanted to prove that I didn't need Levi's help, that I was capable of commanding attention on my own terms. As I finished, I locked eyes with the casting director, a silent challenge in my gaze. Focus. On. Me.

On the ride back home, I was barely holding my excitement. I was shaking my legs so much that they started to tingle. I missed that. Missed the sole attention, gazes, and whispers from every direction.

At the evening, Levi was back home. Given his usual routine, it was an early hour for him. We met in the living room. He was back to his usual demeanor, having carefully taken his suit off, his hair slicked back.

I was in a fantastic mood today. The audition filled my head with serotonin. I needed an outlet to release those hormones. Levi wouldn't refuse if I had made advances, but his seduction was a work of art. Being on the receiving end of that dance is divine. He carefully knew how to tear every wall of sanity, leaving you utterly unarmed to his allure.

I also knew how to push his buttons.

He greeted me with his usual courtesy and left for his room to change clothes. Do I barge inside? No, too early for that. He loved the thrill of the chase. The longer you resisted him, the harder he wanted to catch.

I waited for him to join me in the living room, preparing two glasses of his exquisite scotch while I did. I didn't particularly enjoy the drink, but his collection was undeniably impressive. I wasn't certain he'd accept, given his… history. But I needed the liquid courage to play my part.

He entered the living room, slowly descending the stairs, clad in yet another long-sleeved shirt. What is with those sleeves? Nope, later.

He noticed the scotch glasses, his expression remaining neutral. "To what do I owe this occasion?" he inquired, his voice smooth.

"Ah, the shit you pulled during my audition today," I replied, a hint of playful accusation in my voice.

"I can neither confirm nor deny any involvement," he countered, his eyes gleaming with amusement. The game was on.

"Not admitting anything? How befitting of you," I replied with mocking sarcasm.

"Oh, is that an insult, or a salute?"

Damn, he is fucking good at this. No, don't be swayed again. Don't give him control. Make him chase you. That's what he can't resist.

"Neither, it is an assessment of your endless undesirable traits." Another mocking retort, the most plausible thing I scrambled together from my horny mind.

"You have been incredibly rude this evening. A joyous occasion, truly." He took a sip of his scotch, tilting and turning the glass, watching.

Damn, he's acting like he is throwing in the towel. He is making me feel guilty. Shit. He is so good. No guilt. There is no guilt. Give him the thrill of the chase. A wounded lion, is still a lion.

"Joyous? Should I leave you to your own devices then?" It wasn't a strong retort, but... it might work.

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"What would my devices be, Raphael?"

"I don't know. Either a revolution or something sweet. Mostly me throwing a tantrum."

"Your tantrums are rather amusing to watch, but I must ask this, Raphael." A smile finally reached his lips. I know that smile; it's his scheming smile.

"Ask what?" I stammered, but still tried to maintain some composure.

"It has been... nice and easy, hasn't it?" he simply and slowly asked.

A simple question, completely pushing me to the edge, a shadow of him barely holding me from falling down the cliff. I could see it in his eyes. The subtle threat, telling me how he was being courteous in our brief two encounters.

"Nice and easy?" I repeated, my voice tight, trying to mask the rising panic.

"Surely." He got off the couch and finished his glass. Silently and slowly, he came closer.

He's toying with me, I thought, my heart pounding against my ribs. He's enjoying this. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, each step he took amplifying the tension. I wanted to back away, to create some distance, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot. Keep the game on, Raphael.

"I-"

He cut me off with a sharp click of his tongue. "As always, I never stop you from doing whatever you wish. But one must consider the implications of those wishes, isn't that right?"

He slowly lowered his face, his face blocking the light from the ceiling. "I do enjoy the chase, and it is lovely to see you enjoy it, too. But do tell, you little 'vexia', what will happen to you when the chase is over?"

His low voice grumbled, basically vibrating on my cheeks. What is 'vexia'? It sounds old...

"Then we start again, don't we?"

"Yes, we do..." He paused, his smile reaching the creases of his eyes. "And I suppose you put great trust in me."

"What makes you say that?" I asked, my voice laced with suspicion.

"A direct challenge. It suggests a certain faith in my restraint." He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "Or perhaps," he continued, his eyes gleaming with amusement, "a certain… disregard for your own safety."

He cupped my cheek in his cold hand and reached to my ear. "You see, Vexia," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, "one must be either utterly foolish or tastefully deliberate."

His slender pointer finger was tracing my jaw, ticklishly.

How easily he would wrap his hand around my neck, right at this moment. He was already looming over me. Was he right? Was I being a fool to think I can somehow make Levi yield to me?

"Deliberate?" I echoed, my voice barely a whisper, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.

"Tastefully," he added, without hesitation. It was him, giving me another chance to keep the game on. His final warning to back off before he split me in half on his bed. Which chance do I take? Back off? Or push him further? My mind raced, weighing the risks. He's right. I'm playing with fire. But the heat is intoxicating. His attention is above all else.

His attention. The thought echoed in my mind, a dangerous siren call. That's what this is about, isn't it? His attention, his focus. That's what I want.

I tilted my head, my eyes searching his, trying to decipher the intent behind his words.

Shit. I took too long to answer.

"Raphael," he whispered again and slowly pulled away his hand from my face. "You foolish little, Vexia."

"Yeah..." I whispered. Realizing it doesn't take a day and a glass of scotch to be on his level.

"Hesitation is a dangerous thing to reveal; it is a direct implication of weakness." His voice was low and flat. He was either teaching me how his mind works or it was him being seductive. "Do tell, why did you hesitate, hm?"

"I..." I wanted to preserve my last shred of dignity. "I don't know."

"Lying... Even more dangerous; it shows that you care."

He sees right through me, again. Is there any way to stop making myself look like a goddamn idiot? I didn't respond to him. My brain was far too gone to think about anything. I was angry at myself for being a foolish, little, Vexia. Damn it. He's winning. He's always winning. I forced myself to meet his gaze, trying to project an air of composure I didn't feel.

He was simply watching me, measuring and calculating everything.

"You should know, Raphael, the next time you want something, I am open to whatever it is... Also, you do know I am a dutiful husband."

He placed one hand on my waist, the other on my chest. His hand was cold against my shirt. I could feel the outline of his hand, inflicting a reminder that he was in control, all the time. His thumb was busying itself with my nipples.

Days. It had been days since we'd touched, and even this small, calculated caress sent jolts of heat through my body. My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that betrayed my desperate longing. His hand, so close to my chest, could surely feel how it beats like a little rabbit's.

"Levi," I whispered, my voice thick with a mixture of desire and fear, "what are you doing?"

I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his thumb continuing its tormenting caress. He knows. He knows how much I want this.

"Remember the kitchen," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, "how you always deny yourself the right to be honest, because of your pride?"

Shit. He said that same thing yesterday. An unwanted flashback passed through my mind. There was something else I wondered: does he truly want this too, or is it his "duty" or whatever?

He was waiting for my answer; he was patient. Until he wasn't. His hand on my waist slowly slid down to my butt, squeezing it tightly. A moan escaped my lips.

"See, Vexia. Your body is honest, why aren't you?" he purred against my ear.

Damn him.

"Shut up," I hissed, my voice thick with a mixture of desire and resentment.

"Ah, what happened to your enthusiasm? Did I coax it out, too?" His fingers were sliding up and down, basically circling my hole. Blood rushed everywhere in my body. I wanted him so badly.

"You scared the shit out of it. So... Deal with it," I responded, forcing indifference, failing miserably.

"Delightfully," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "But you know… Vexia. I don't have experience with men. Do help me a little."

"Stop teasing me and fuck me, okay? Enough!" I blurted out, the words raw and desperate.

"Enough?" he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. "Or simply… too much?"

He shifted his hand, his fingers now tracing the sensitive skin, sending a jolt of heat through my body. "Because," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, "I have a feeling that you're far from finished, Vexia."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Tell me," he murmured, his voice a low growl, "what do you want, Raphael? What do you truly want?"

The question hung in the air, a raw and desperate plea for honesty. He wants me to break. He wants me to beg.

"I… I want you," I whispered, my voice thick with a mixture of desire and shame. Damn you, lion. I caved in to him, once again.

"Finally," he murmured, his voice laced with a predatory satisfaction. He lifted me from the ground, and I clung to him. He carried me to his bedroom, princess-style.