CHAPTER 153: THE DEVIL’S GAME PT1

The bath chamber was warm, steam curling slowly into the air, but the warmth of the water did nothing to ease the tension between them.

Ivan sat there, unmoving, the water reaching just above his chest. His arms rested on the rim of the large tub, but his muscles were tight. His mind was in chaos. Every part of him screamed at him to keep calm, to control himself, yet the more he tried, the more aware he became of her presence.

Lydia sat across from him, her legs stretched lazily under the water. The surface rippled every time she moved, small waves brushing against him. She kept running her fingers through the water, tracing patterns in it, sometimes letting her fingertips lightly touch his arm as if by accident.

Every touch, no matter how light, sent a strange rush through him. The heat of the water mixed with the heat in his blood.

It was quiet. The only sounds were the soft swish of water when she moved. But Ivan could hear something else — the steady, heavy beat of his own heart.

Lydia broke the silence.

"You’ve been quiet since yesterday," she said, her voice smooth, her eyes studying him.

He did not reply.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, pretending to search her memory. Then she gave a soft little murmur, almost like she was speaking to herself. "I don’t recall."

Her lips curved in the faintest smile.

"Or..." she continued, her voice lower now, almost teasing, "is it what I said last night? I didn’t lie, you know. So you don’t have to be angry at me. Right?"

Before he could think of a reply, she moved closer.

It was not a slow, shy move. It was deliberate. The water between them swirled as she slid forward, closing the space until there was barely a breath between them.

Her knees brushed his under the water, and then her thigh pressed lightly against his. Her skin was smooth and warm, and he felt every inch of contact as if it were a brand.

Ivan’s breath caught. He froze, his hands gripping the rim of the tub tighter without meaning to.

Lydia smiled at him — soft, innocent to anyone who didn’t know her, but he did. He knew that smile had its own kind of danger.

"You forgive me, right?" she asked in a gentle voice.

Then she leaned in just a little more, so close he could feel the faint, warm touch of her breath on the side of his neck. Her voice was almost a whisper, the kind that wrapped around a man’s thoughts and stayed there.

"You love me so much," she said, her lips so close to his skin he could almost feel them. "So you’ll forgive me no matter what."

Her words sank into him, slow and heavy.

Before he could speak, before he could even breathe properly, she pulled back.

The absence of her touch was like cold air rushing in. He sat there, still frozen, his mind unable to catch up with what had just happened. He could still feel her breath lingering on his skin, ghosting over him like a memory.

He didn’t even notice her rising from the water until her voice called to him again.

"Ivan."

He blinked and looked up.

She was already out of the tub, her bare skin gleaming with droplets of water, each one catching the light. She was drying herself slowly, dragging the towel over her shoulders, her arms, her legs, as if she didn’t notice him watching — or maybe she noticed too much.

"Are you going to remain in the water?" she asked casually, as if the last few minutes had been nothing.

"Huh?" was all he managed.

"It’s already gone cold," she said, glancing at the surface of the water.

She wrapped the towel around herself and walked out of the bath chamber without another glance.

Only then did he realize she was right — the water around him had turned cold, though his skin still burned.

---

In the room, Lydia had found one of his robes. She slipped it over herself, the loose belt barely tied. The fabric was heavy and soft, falling off one shoulder in a way that made it clear she didn’t care to fix it.

She stood near the bed, drying her hair with the towel in slow, unhurried strokes.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in," she said without turning.

Katherine entered, her face calm but her eyes quick. She carried a tray of breakfast — fresh bread, pastries still warm, a bowl of fruit, and a pot of steaming tea.

Behind her, several servants followed, carrying buckets of hot water scented with rose petals, fine soaps, and fresh towels. Clearly, they had come to prepare for Lydia’s bath.

Lydia turned to look at the buckets, then at Katherine.

"Oh, is that for me?" she asked lightly.

Katherine gave a small nod.

"You don’t have to worry," Lydia said, a playful smile touching her lips. "I have already bathed."

Then she added with a soft laugh, "I and his highness bathed together."

The servants exchanged glances, whispers moving quickly between them. Katherine’s expression tightened.

She turned sharply to the servants. "You may leave," she said firmly.

The servants bowed and quickly left the room.

Katherine walked to the table and placed the breakfast tray down. She turned to look at Lydia, who was now seated on the bed, still drying her hair, her eyes calm but watchful.

Lydia raised one eyebrow. "What is it? Are you worried about him?"

Before Katherine could answer, the door to the bath chamber opened and Ivan walked in.

Lydia tilted her head toward him. "See? He is fine."

"That’s not why I am here," Katherine said.

"Then what is it?" Lydia asked.

"Everything is ready for the ball tonight," Katherine said.

Lydia gave a small nod. "If that’s so, you may leave. I want some time alone with my husband."

Katherine hesitated, then said, "As you wish, your highness," and left the room.

---

The door had barely closed before Lydia stood, walked to the table, and picked up the breakfast tray. She carried it to the bed and placed it on the sheets, arranging it neatly.

Her voice was sweet, but the sweetness was sharp.

"Spend time with me, Ivan," she said. "Let’s have breakfast."

Her smile was soft, almost tender, but he knew her too well. This was not just a smile. This was a challenge.

Ivan stood there, knowing exactly what game she was playing — and knowing he was already losing.

But the truth was... he did not mind losing to her.