Sweet Hatred
Chapter 116: Spy/Princess Treatment

Chapter 116: Spy/Princess Treatment

"Tch—again," I hissed, adjusting my stance.

Behind me, Kael was a devil in disguise. Under all that baggy cloth I stole from his closet—sweatpants hanging loose on my hips, his oversized shirt practically swallowing me, his hands were slithering over every inch they could find.

"You sure you don’t need help?" he whispered, voice dipped in silk and sin, as his hand curved around my waist and splayed wide across my stomach.

"I’m fine," I growled, trying to shake him off.

His thumb brushed just under my ribcage, just enough to make my breath hitch.

"You know I could make you hit the target with other methods," he murmured, leaning close, so close I could feel the heat of his mouth ghosting against my neck.

"You’re a pain in my ass."

"And yet, you wore my clothes," he purred, his hand slipping a little lower, the edge of his palm now dangerously close to forbidden territory.

"I was cold," I said, biting back a shiver.

"Oh? So I didn’t warm you up enough last night?" His grin was smug against my skin.

I glared. "Shoo. I’m trying to focus."

"Try harder, sweetheart."

This time, I shut him out. Ignored the way his body curved around mine, ignored how my thighs tensed at his closeness, ignored everything except the pounding in my chest and the target in front of me.

Bang.

Dead center.

I blinked. "Wait—wait—YES!"

Without thinking, I leapt up in excitement and swung around, accidentally smacking Kael in the ribs with my elbow.

"Ow—fuck—" he wheezed, staggering back a step.

I looked at him with zero remorse. "Please. I know when you’re faking it."

"I’m not," he muttered, rubbing his side dramatically. "That was a betrayal. I guided you, supported you, worshipped you—and you attack me."

I crossed my arms, smirking. "Aw, poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?"

"I want you to kiss something—"

A sharp clearing of a throat behind us cut his words dead.

Kael turned around lazily while I nearly jumped out of his clothes. One of the guards stood stiffly at the edge of the range, face neutral—but his eyes flicked between us like he knew.

"Apologies," he said. "But there’s someone requesting to speak with you. It’s urgent."

Kael’s expression shifted instantly—from warm and teasing to sharp and alert. He straightened.

"Who is it?" he asked.

The guard hesitated... I turned back to practice my aim.

Breathe in. Aim.

Bang.

Missed.

"I’ll be back in a moment," Kael said, brushing his lips against my temple. "Try not to kill yourself proving me wrong."

Cocky bastard.

I exhaled sharply and lowered my arm. My whole body still felt like melted wax, sore in places I didn’t even know I had. And Kael had the nerve to smirk and walk off like he hadn’t completely rearranged my insides less than twelve hours ago.

But the way his mood just shifted when that guard whispered to him... it lit a flicker in my gut. Not jealousy. Not fear.

Suspicion.

So, yeah. The target could wait.

I slipped the gun down and tiptoed my way out of the range. The castle stretched around me like a sleeping giant—elegant, cold, ancient. I kept close to the walls, bare feet silent on the marble, heartbeat stuttering like it wasn’t sure if this was curiosity or self-sabotage.

I was just about to turn back when I heard voices—low, male, serious. Coming from around a corner.

Kael.

I pressed myself against the stone, barely daring to breathe, listening.

"...seems the D’Amicos want to make friends."

"D’Amicos?" I muttered under my breath. That name was sharp and foreign on my tongue. It tasted dangerous.

Paper rustled.

Then Kael’s voice, quiet. "It’s a wedding invitation. Here in Rome. Tomorrow."

A wedding? Who the hell were these people? A family friend?

"Maybe the Don himself wants to show his gratitude," the guard said.

Don. Ah. The word sank instantly. A Mafia boss. I felt a chill. And not the fun kind.

Kael’s silence stretched before he finally spoke again. "I can understand." His voice was cold, clear and cutting. Nothing like the warmth I was used to. "We did hand over his target on a golden platter for him, of course he’d be grateful."

Target? TARGET?

"So should I start preparations?"

"No preparations. We’ll send a gift. That’s all."

"Sir..." the guard hesitated again. "but considering their size in Italy here. I think it’s best to—"

"I don’t like to engage in street rats fighting turf wars." Kael cut him off sharply, irritation sizzling in his voice. "if you smile too much, they start to think you’re one them. I don’t want to be dragged into any more bloody wars, I’ve had enough of that."

Bloody wars? Oh.

"I understand sir."

"Take this to the study."

Footsteps. Shit. They were moving.

I bolted, running as fast as I could without tripping over my own damn legs. My thighs screamed. My knees buckled. Kael you bastard I’m never letting you fuck me that hard again. I was panting by the time I reached the shooting range, grabbed the gun and fired a rushed shot at the dummy.

Missed.

Again. Missed harder.

I barely had time to wipe the sweat from my lip before he walked back in like some goddamn warlord, t-shirt highlighting his huge pecs, cocky gleam back in his eyes like nothing happened.

"Still trying to beat me?" he asked, like he hadn’t just had a secret meeting about Don freaking D’Amico.

I turned, plastering on a smirk. "Obviously. Someone’s gotta humble you eventually."

"Then you better stop missing like that."

I fired again. Purposefully wide. I needed to look convincing. Not like I’d been playing spy minutes ago.

But deep down, something was coiling inside me. Kael was hiding things. And I’d just cracked open the lid. Now all I needed... was to see what else he buried underneath it.

"So," I said, trying to sound as casual as I could while still catching my breath. "What was that little errand you ran off to do earlier?"

Kael didn’t miss a beat. "Work."

That’s it? Work?

He stepped closer, brushing some lint off his shirt like I hadn’t just watched him talk about the D’Amicos, a wedding invitation, the Don, and sending a mysterious gift like it’s no big deal.

Tch.

Sure. Work.

I smiled sweetly, every fiber of my being screaming to call him out. But I wasn’t dumb. Yet. So I stayed quiet.

"You should take a break," he said, suddenly all soft and smug. "You still need rest after yesterday’s... workout."

I blinked. "I’m fine."

He moved before I could react—fingers brushing the sweat off my temple like it offended him, the cool pad of his thumb dragging across my skin. Then he pried the gun gently out of my hand and tossed it onto the table like it weighed nothing.

"Kael—"

And suddenly I was airborne.

"Kael!"

He lifted me up like I weighed nothing, arms under my thighs and back like I was some oversized toddler.

"What the hell—put me down, you shithead!"

"You complained last time I carried you like a sack of potatoes," he said, entirely too pleased with himself. "I’m giving you princess treatment now. You’re welcome."