Feeding the fire

I had a plan.

A simple, foolproof plan — if the story needed Adrian to fall for me instead of Lady Elara, then I just had to… well, make him fall for me.

Not that I wanted him to. Not really. This was purely professional.

Romancing the male lead? Just another day at the office.

Step one: Create “bonding moments.”

Step two: Make myself indispensable.

Step three: Get to the “love confession” before Elara came back.

Easy. Right?

The perfect opportunity came during a rainy afternoon in the library. Adrian was at his desk, reading over military reports, and I was supposed to be cataloguing trade ledgers.

Instead, I stood near the window, holding a book I wasn’t reading, rehearsing my opening line.

“My lord,” I began, keeping my voice light, “I’ve been wondering… do you ever get lonely in this big place?”

He looked up. Slowly. The kind of slow that made my skin prickle. “Lonely?”

“Yes. I mean, you have all these people working for you, but no one really close to you. No one to… share things with.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Are you offering?”

My heart stuttered. “I—uh—only if you want—”

“Come here.”

I took two cautious steps toward him. He didn’t move, just tracked me with his eyes until I stood at the corner of his desk. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached up and took the book from my hand, placing it aside.

“You’re not very good at hiding your intentions, Ren,” he murmured.

My stomach dropped. Did he know I was trying to change the ending?

He leaned forward, his hands braced on the desk. “But I like that about you.”

Okay… maybe this was working?

The next few days, I doubled down. I brought him tea when it wasn’t my job. I stayed in the study even when my tasks were done. I made small talk about the weather, his favorite books, anything to get him talking.

And it worked — sort of.

He started asking me to accompany him everywhere — meetings, dinners, even short rides to the nearby village. At first, I thought it was progress. Then I realized he wasn’t just inviting me. He was removing my other options.

On the sixth day, I tried to join the kitchen staff for lunch. Ten minutes later, Adrian appeared, sitting down at my side as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The conversation at the table died instantly.

“I thought you might enjoy dining with me instead,” he said, his hand resting lightly on the back of my chair.

The weight of it wasn’t heavy — but it was anchoring.

That night, as I prepared to leave the study, he spoke without looking up from his paperwork.

“Ren.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You’ve been spending too much time thinking about others.”

I hesitated. “I… didn’t realize—”

He finally looked at me. The faint smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll help you remember where you belong.”

It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

I left with the uneasy realization that my little “romance plan” wasn’t pulling him into my story.

It was pulling me into his.

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