The door, which had been resting ajar, swung wide to reveal Prince Kyle.
His face was a turbulent mask of shock and burgeoning fury. Beside him, Leon stood with a sharp, knowing glint in his eyes, a faint, mocking smile dancing at the corner of his lips.
Kyle's gaze dropped, scanning Mathias with a clinical, mounting rage.
The bare chest. The towel slung carelessly over one shoulder. The damp hair.
And—most damning of all—the faded crimson brand of a kiss nestled in the hollow of his collarbone.
"What exactly are you doing in my sister's chambers?" Kyle hissed.
Mathias didn't flinch. "Hm? Since when do I require a permit to be in my own wife's room?"
A heavy, suffocating silence followed. For a heartbeat, Kyle seemed to have forgotten the fundamental reality of their union.
Mathias leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a languid, provocative indifference.
