Chapter 93: can’t deny it anymore

Chapter 93: Chapter 93: can’t deny it anymore

Something flickered behind Amelia’s eyes—something sharp and playful that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

Then she smiled.

It was deeper than before, sweeter, and just a little too bright. The kind of smile that usually meant trouble.

The three men felt an almost simultaneous chill settle in their bones. They knew that expression. It never led anywhere safe.

"Then I’d also love to feed my amazing partners," she said, voice soft and syrupy, tilting her head just enough to look demure.

Reid recovered first, though his shoulders had gone noticeably rigid.

"Our stomachs are definitely full de-earr."

Amelia’s voice rose clear enough for the nearest tables to catch every word.

"Are you rejecting my request? From someone you claim to cherish? Someone you said you wanted the whole world to know is important to you?"

She pressed one hand theatrically to her forehead and the other over her heart, eyes going wide with exaggerated, wounded innocence.

"Then you don’t really like me at all. Was everything you said earlier just for show?"

Enzo watched the performance in quiet disbelief, one brow twitching.

She’s an actress. A terrifying one. Not even a particularly skilled one—and these students will still buy every second of it.

Amelia didn’t wait for further protest. She picked up a clean fork, speared a perfect bite of the braised short ribs with deliberate care, and turned fully toward him. The utensil hovered just in front of his mouth. Her free hand rested lightly on the table, fingers relaxed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

"Ahh."

Never in his life had Enzo imagined himself in this position.

His heart was beating too fast—unsteady, almost uneven. He told himself it might be the start of a heart attack. The rational part of his mind insisted he refuse. The rest of him refused to listen.

He opened his mouth.

She fed him.

The only person who had ever done that was his mother, and that had been decades ago—normal, expected, forgettable. This was different. The simple act of her feeding him sent something familiar through his chest, a low, warm pull he didn’t have a name for.

Reid and Dean sat frozen, mouths slightly open in pure disbelief. Dean recovered first and reached over, gently pushing Reid’s jaw shut with two fingers. Neither of them looked away.

They couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Enzo had actually accepted it. He had surrendered to her request without a fight.

And watching her feed him stirred something sharp and unwelcome in both of them—jealousy, plain and simple, curling tight behind their ribs.

Amelia felt it the moment their gazes settled on her. The weight of their attention was almost tangible.

"Your turn will come," she said lightly, almost cheerful, glancing between the two of them. "Chill. I’m very fair."

Enzo still didn’t understand why the food tasted better than it ever had before. He had eaten the same dish countless times. There was no logical reason for it to feel different now—richer, warmer, somehow more satisfying simply because she had been the one to offer it.

Amelia was equally surprised he had accepted the bite. She had fully expected rejection, maybe even a cold stare that would have forced her to back down. Instead, a shy, private happiness bloomed in her chest at the fact that she had gotten to feed him—and that the other two were clearly jealous. The knowledge settled warm and secret beneath her ribs.

Around them, the students were whispering in open astonishment.

"They actually have feelings for her..."

"What does she even have that all the better women they’ve met don’t?"

Amelia knew the answer to that question, even if she couldn’t say it out loud. A quiet swell of pride rose inside her, steady and unexpected.

Enzo finally leaned back a fraction, expression carefully neutral again.

"I’m full."

"Sure," Amelia said, already turning toward Reid with the next bite prepared on the fork. Her smile had returned, softer this time but no less determined. "Your turn."

Reid’s mouth opened, then closed again. He searched for any workable excuse—any scrap of charm or deflection that might get him out of this—and came up completely empty.

"Switch places with Enzo. Immediately."

Neither man moved.

Her voice dropped half a note, still soft but edged with something that made the air feel thinner.

"Are you disobeying my orders?"

Enzo decided he did not want to find out what happened if he refused. Reid reached the same conclusion a second later. Both of them stood and traded seats without another word.

Amelia turned fully toward Reid, lifted the fork, and offered the next bite.

"Ahh."

Reid opened his mouth.

The moment the food touched his tongue, something unexpected happened—he actually liked it. More than that, he looked almost absurdly pleased.

"Mmmhh..." He chewed slowly, eyes half-lidding. "I’ve been missing out. You should definitely be feeding me more often."

Amelia’s eye twitched once. She held the grimace behind a polite smile, then casually pushed the next spoonful a little deeper than necessary.

Reid coughed, quickly covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oops," Amelia said lightly, already preparing another bite. "You shouldn’t talk while you’re being fed. It’s bad manners."

Reid didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

"That’s not fair," he said, voice still slightly rough. "Hurting me like this."

Amelia held herself back from rolling her eyes.

He’s way better at acting than I am. It’s crazy.

Still, she didn’t say she disliked it.

She took a bite for herself from the same utensil, then offered the next one to him without hesitation. The quiet intimacy of sharing the fork settled between them.

Reid’s mouth curved into that familiar charming smile. "Aren’t we indirectly kissing through the utensil?"

"Why are you sounding like you haven’t already blessed my bosoms with your lips, or rocked me with a length that women would die for?"

The sudden, shameless statement hit Reid harder than he expected.

It reminded him—vividly—of Amelia’s other self. The version of her that had spoken with the same fearless, intimate familiarity. They were definitely the same person.

And for some reason, hearing her say something that filthy out loud in front of other people sent an unfamiliar flicker of something close to shame through him. Talking dirty had always been his territory. Yet she did it better. Or at least, it landed differently when it came from her, more disarming than anything he had ever thrown at someone else.

I’m actually, seriously falling for this woman.

He couldn’t deny it anymore.