Page 53 of His Ruthless Match (Below #3)

JARETH

“ I feel like I’m going to combust, Grelth,” I said as I watched him clean the espresso machine until the chrome gleamed.

Grelth didn’t even look up. He continued polishing the machine with a maddening calm. “Master Jareth, you are always on the brink of combustion. What’s new this time?”

A short laugh escaped me, more bitter than amused. “It’s Eva.”

“Of course, it is,” Grelth replied flatly, though there was a hint of understanding in his tone.

My shoulders sagged slightly as I rubbed my jaw. “She doesn’t know. I haven’t told her she’s my mate. She’s already dealing with enough. How do I drop that on her without it blowing everything up?”

Grelth finally looked up at me. His gaze was calculating, his expression unreadable. “Master Jareth, if you know it’s not the right time, then why torment yourself with this?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about her. Every time I look at her, I feel… I don’t know. Like my soul is walking around outside of me. And if anything happens to her—” The words caught in my throat.

Grelth set down the cloth and straightened his jacket. “Master Jareth, you are not the first to feel this way. Nor will you be the last. But you must remember that fate is not something to be rushed. It unfolds in its own time.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, skepticism creeping into my voice. “When did you become a philosopher?”

“Master Grelth has had centuries to observe your kind and its foolishness. The answer, as always, is patience. She will see it when she is ready.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Thanks, Grelth. I didn’t think you had it in you to be encouraging.”

He arched an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Do not mistake my words for encouragement. They are merely observations.”

“Of course,” I said dryly. “Still, thanks for?—”

“And might I add,” Grelth interrupted, his tone taking on a mocking edge, “Master Jareth, your incessant pacing and moody sighs are not helping your case. Perhaps try brooding less. It’s very unbecoming.”

I glared at him, though the annoyance was half-hearted. “And there it is. Thanks for nothing, Grelth.”

Grelth bowed slightly, a picture of mock servitude. “You are most welcome, Master Jareth.”

He retreated to another part of the apartment, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I leaned heavily on the counter, staring at the polished espresso machine without really seeing it.

Needing a distraction, I pulled my phone from my pocket.

I scrolled through my messages aimlessly before typing out a quick text to Luca.

Jareth: How’s the Crimson Dominion? Any updates?

Luca: The same. Blood, guts, and ass everywhere. Typical rebel faction shit.

Jareth: Does The Shadow have a handle on it?

Luca: Relax. Focus on Eva. We’re getting closer to figuring out who the ringleader is. We’ll take it from there.

I stared at the screen. If something big was brewing in the Crimson Dominion, how long would I really have before I’d be pulled back into the chaos? The thought made my stomach churn.

Eva wandered into the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. She was wearing loose pajama pants and a tank top, her hair slightly messy from the day’s work. To me, she looked like she’d walked out of a dream.

Her hair, her lips, the sway of her hips as she moved toward the coffee pot… Fuck, I was beyond screwed.

“Taking a break?” I asked, keeping my tone steady despite the way my pulse was racing.

She nodded as she poured coffee into her mug. “Needed a refill. Too much to do, not enough caffeine to do it.” She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I have something on my face.”

“Maybe I’m just appreciating the view,” I said honestly.

She rolled her eyes, though I didn’t miss the pink tint that crept into her cheeks.

As the door clicked shut behind her, I exhaled and shoved my hands into my pockets. This woman was going to be my undoing.

I glanced back at my phone. Luca’s last message was still on the screen. Focus on Eva. Nothing could be easier.

After dinner, I sat watching Eva fidget with her laptop. She was so focused, her brows furrowed as she typed furiously, the glow of the screen illuminating her face. The exhaustion on her face was clear.

“Delgado,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet. “You’ve been staring at that thing all day. Take a break.”

“I can’t. There’s too much to do.”

“Your brain will fry if you keep going. How about a card game? Something to slow that overthinking mind of yours before bed.”

Eva shot me a skeptical glance, her fingers pausing over the keys. “A card game? What are we, seventy?”

“Rummy,” I declared, standing up with a dramatic flourish. “It’s a classic. And I’ll even teach you if you don’t know how to play.”

She sighed, dragging it out for effect, but finally closed her laptop with a resigned click. “Fine. But only because my eyes are burning. Just a quick break.”

I grabbed a deck of cards from the drawer and set up at the small dining table. Eva sat across from me, watching with a mix of curiosity and amusement as I shuffled the deck with a practiced flourish.

I grinned. “Impressed?”

She rested her chin on her hand. “Was this part of your assassin training?”

“Of course. Card games are crucial for espionage,” I said, dealing the cards. “Okay, the rules are simple. You want to create sets and runs. Three or four of a kind, or consecutive cards of the same suit.”

Eva stared at her cards, frowning as if they were written in another language. “This feels complicated already. I’m not sure I can learn something new this late in the day.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not rocket science, Delgado. Just match stuff. Even you can handle that.”

“Gee, thanks,” she replied dryly, but she was smiling at me. It was hard to resist teasing her when she gave me those reactions.

As the game progressed, Eva began to pick up the rules, though not without a fair amount of grumbling. “So, I can pick up a card from the pile if I need it?” she asked, squinting at her hand.

“Yes,” I said, exasperated. “I’ve explained that three times.”

“Just making sure. I wouldn’t want you to cheat me.”

“Cheat you?” I scoffed. “Delgado, I’m hurt.”

Eva suddenly gasped, her eyes wide with horror as she stared over my shoulder. “What?” I asked, instantly on alert.

“Rat,” she screeched, scrambling onto her chair and pointing toward the corner of the room. “There’s a rat!”

Twisting in my seat, I scanned the floor. “Where?”

“Near the bookshelf! It just ran past!” Eva’s voice was pitched high, and she clutched the back of her chair like it was a lifeline.

I stood, the chair scraping against the floor. “All right, let’s deal with this.”

The small, furry creature darted along the edge of the room, and I hurried after it. Eva’s shrieks rang through the room as the rat changed direction, heading for the kitchen. “Shit, shit, it’s coming this way,” she yelled, climbing onto the table.

Grabbing a nearby throw pillow, I launched it at the rat, missing entirely. The pillow collided with a lamp, which toppled over with a loud crash.

“Jareth! You’re destroying my apartment!”

The rat scurried behind the refrigerator, and I yanked open a kitchen drawer, pulling out the largest knife I could find.

Eva’s eyes widened in alarm. “What are you doing with that?”

“What does it look like? I’m going to stab it.”

“Stab it? Are you serious?” she exclaimed, horrified. “That’s barbaric!”

“Delgado, it’s a rat, not a dinner guest,” I said as I peered under the fridge.

I jabbed the knife into the narrow space a few times, grunting in frustration as the rat evaded me. “This little bastard is fast.”

“Just stop!” Eva groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’ll call pest control tomorrow.”

The rat made another daring escape, darting toward the living room. I lunged after it, knocking over a chair in the process.

“You’re tearing my place apart,” Eva yelled, her voice muffled by her hands.

After several minutes of chaos, the rat disappeared into a crack near the baseboard heater. I stood, breathing heavily, the knife still in my hand. “I don’t see it anymore. It must’ve gotten away.”

Eva glared at me. “Are you sure? Because if I see it again, I’m moving out. I hate the city sometimes.”

I smirked and held out my hand. “Come on, it’s safe now. I’ll personally guarantee it.”

She eyed my hand suspiciously, then glanced around the room as if expecting the rat to reappear. Finally, she sighed and let me help her down.

“For a cat, you’re really bad at catching rats.”

I elbowed her lightly, and she squealed.

“You’re cleaning this mess up,” she said, pointing at the overturned chair and broken lamp.

“Gladly,” I replied, grinning. “It was worth it to see you up there, screaming like a banshee.”

She smacked my arm but couldn’t suppress a small laugh.

As I started cleaning up the chaos, I couldn’t help but smile. Eva might have been furious, but she’d laughed too. And that felt like a win.

I leaned against the railing of the balcony and looked out at the city.

From this high up, the lights looked like fallen stars, flickering in the darkness, hinting at a thousand secrets on the streets below.

A cool breeze ruffled my hair, carrying with it the mingled scents of city life—gasoline, faint cooking spices, that ever-present tang of concrete after a hot day.

When I heard the door slide open, I glanced over my shoulder.

Eva stepped out onto the balcony, two wine glasses in hand.

Her silk robe was cinched loosely at the waist, and her dark hair fell in lazy waves around her shoulders.

She offered me a glass, and I took it. I leaned my hip against the railing, sipping while she eased into one of the plush outdoor chairs.

“I wish we could just go to a bar,” she said with a sigh. “Sit at a table, order a drink, and not think about disguises or who’s watching.”