Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Chapter 150: Chapter 150: Counterattack (1)

Sylvia stared at him for a beat after that, sauce cup in one hand, fry in the other, and then narrowed her eyes in the particular way that meant she was developing bad ideas.

Nero, unfortunately, noticed.

”That expression,” he said, ”usually precedes poor judgment.”

Sylvia ignored that completely. ”Does the other person know?”

Nero reached for another wing, more to occupy his hands than out of hunger now. ”No.”

”No,” Sylvia repeated, suspicious. ”No because you never said anything, or no because they’re spectacularly unobservant?”

His mouth flattened by a fraction.

Sylvia’s eyes widened. ”Oh, that bad?”

Nero looked at her with the calm dignity of a man being insulted in a civilian apartment while holding hot wings. ”Only a blind man wouldn’t see.”

She blinked.

Then she set her fry down very carefully.

”That,” Sylvia said, ”is not the answer of someone suffering from a subtle crush. That is the answer of a man who has been standing there radiating longing, violence, and expensive restraint in full public view.”

Nero said nothing.

Which was answer enough.

Sylvia leaned back slowly, mind already taking several dangerous turns at once. ”So either your person is oblivious on a truly historic scale, or they saw it and decided to be stupid anyway.”

”That is one interpretation.”

”That is the correct interpretation.”

He looked unconvinced, which annoyed her on principle.

Sylvia took a long drink of soda, then lowered the bottle and regarded him with fresh interest. ”Well. If we’re dealing with idiocy, there are options.”

Nero’s gaze widened faintly. ”That sounds ominous.”

”It should.” She shifted on the couch, pulling one leg under herself again. ”Hypothetically speaking, if one wished to remind a certain oblivious person that other people are in fact capable of perceiving value—”

Nero’s eyes narrowed. ”Sylvia.”

”I’m brainstorming.”

”You’re plotting.”

”That too.” She waved a hand. ”Listen. I’m only saying that if the issue is visibility, I could offer my services.”

That got a pause out of him.

Nero set his wing down. ”Your services.”

”Yes.” Sylvia straightened with all the solemnity of someone about to say something ridiculous on purpose. ”As a jealousy inducer.”

For the first time in several minutes, Nero looked genuinely caught off guard.

Sylvia, encouraged, continued. ”We take a picture here. Casual. Suspiciously good lighting. You post it to whatever secure royal social media platform you people use to politely ruin each other’s evenings. Just enough to make someone stare at their phone and reconsider their life choices.”

Nero looked at her for a long moment.

Then, to her deep satisfaction, the idea visibly landed.

”Oh no,” she said, delighted. ”You like it.”

Nero’s mouth moved, almost a smile. ”It has merit.”

Sylvia pointed at him. ”That is the most royal possible way to say yes.”

”It is strategically sound.”

She laughed. ”You are unbelievable.”

Nero leaned back into the couch, his massive frame making her furniture look even more inadequate than before. ”You offered.”

”As a joke.”

”And yet,” he said smoothly, ”it remains a workable suggestion.”

Sylvia stared at him, then at his face, then at the phone lying face-down on the table. ”You are absolutely serious.”

He picked up his soda. ”I said it had merit.”

She covered her mouth for a second, half in horror, half in delight. ”This is terrible. Dean is rubbing off on me. I’m enabling emotional crimes.”

Nero drank, calm as winter. ”Only minor ones.”

Sylvia let out a disbelieving sound and dropped her hand. ”All right. Let’s say, purely theoretically, I agree to become collateral in your romantic warfare. What exactly are we trying to imply?”

Nero glanced at her, expression unreadable again except for that faint edge of interest. ”That I am not home alone brooding.”

Sylvia barked out a laugh. ”God. The standards are low.”

”They are efficient.”

”No, they are tragic.”

He did not deny that.

For a second, Sylvia simply looked at him.

Then her expression softened despite herself. Because underneath the dry answers and royal restraint and strategic phrasing was still the same truth as before: he had left a gala because staying had become a bad idea. He had come here because distance was safer. And now, apparently, some part of him liked the thought of being seen elsewhere.

Sylvia sighed dramatically. ”I hate that I understand this.”

Nero said, ”You don’t have to do it.”

That made her pause.

The offer had turned real enough now that he was giving her an exit. No pressure. No princely expectation. Just the option to refuse.

Which, annoyingly, made him easier to help.

Sylvia tilted her head. ”Would it actually make you feel better?”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then, with more honesty than she expected, he said, ”A little.”

”Well,” Sylvia said, reaching for another fry, ”that’s deeply embarrassing for your dignity, but now I almost have to.”

That finally earned her a brief, real smile.

It made him look his actual age. Worse for everyone’s sanity.

Sylvia pointed her fry at him again. ”To be clear, though, I am not participating in anything that reads like seduction. I’m not wearing the gala dress. My hair is half-falling out. There are takeout boxes on the table. If this goes online, the message is not a mysterious woman stealing a prince. The message is ’The prince was found alive in civilian territory and was fed.’”

Nero considered that. ”That may be better.”

”See? This is why I’m useful.” She leaned over and grabbed his phone from the coffee table, then held it up. ”What media are we talking about? Public account? Private story? Encrypted aristocratic nonsense platform?”

Nero held out a hand for it, then seemed to think better of it. ”There’s a private circle feed.”

Sylvia stared. ”Of course there is.”

”It’s mainly for security.”

She narrowed her eyes. ”And social maneuvering.”

A pause.

”Sometimes,” he admitted.

”Monstrous.” She unlocked the screen and held it just out of his reach. ”Fine. But if I’m doing this, we’re composing the post together. I am not letting you caption it with something terrifyingly elegant like good company.”

Nero looked almost offended. ”I wouldn’t.”

”You absolutely would.”

He did not answer.

Sylvia gasped softly. ”You would. That’s exactly what you would do.”

A faint smile touched his mouth again.

She shook her head, laughing under her breath as she rose from the couch. ”All right, Your Height. Sit up. Shoulders back a little. Try to look less like you’re planning a coup and more like you accidentally had a decent evening.”

Nero looked up at her from where he sat, broad and impossibly large against her couch, hair loose, one arm draped along the backrest.

The image, Sylvia realized at once, was annoyingly powerful.

”This is already a bad idea,” she muttered.

”You proposed it.”

”As a joke,” she reminded him.

”And yet.”

She moved to stand beside the couch, then reconsidered and sat on the armrest instead, angling herself just enough for the photo to read close without being intimate.

Nero watched her settle, then said, ”You’re taking this very seriously.”

Sylvia lifted her chin. ”If I’m going to help induce jealousy, I’m not doing amateur work.”

That got another quiet laugh out of him.

She held up the phone, looked at the screen, then paused.

”You know,” she said, ”if this backfires and your person says congratulations or something equally stupid, I reserve the right to take the phone away and commit a separate crime.”

Nero’s expression went still for half a beat.

Then he said, very calmly, ”That would be unfortunate.”

Sylvia turned her head slowly and looked at him. ”You really do like them.”

His gaze met hers.

And there it was again - that infuriating honesty buried under all the restraint. A truth too visible to hide well and apparently too inconvenient to name cleanly.

Sylvia’s face softened despite the joke.

Then she lifted the phone again. ”All right,” she said. ”Smile a little. Not enough to look happy. Enough to look occupied.”

Nero’s mouth curved.

”Oh,” Sylvia murmured, eyeing the screen. ”That is going to ruin someone’s night.”