Chapter 31

Johan

Halo swallowed.

“He does not care,” he said quietly.

“Care comes in ugly forms sometimes,” I replied. “Lucian only knows how to control or destroy. He does not know how to want.”

The car stopped at a light. Red glow washed over Halo’s face.

For a second, he looked like he might cry. Then he straightened, wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his hand.

“I just wanted him to talk to me,” he admitted. “Like a normal person.”

There it was. Raw. Simple. Painful.

I exhaled slowly. “You should stop wanting that from him.”

He nodded, but did not look convinced.

“So,” I said lightly, shifting the mood. “Since sad puppy Halo is out today, where do you think we are going?”

He glanced at me, hesitant. “You did not tell me.”

“I know.”

“That is not comforting.”

I grinned. “You trusted me anyway.”

He did not answer. But he did not pull away either.

Johan

When the car finally stopped, Halo frowned and leaned forward to look through the window.

“This is Demas Exhibition,” he said slowly, then turned to me. “What do you… Why are we here?”

I laughed under my breath and stepped out first. “I needed to plan something,” I said casually. “I think better in places I like.”

He followed me out, still confused. “Plan what?”

“You ask too many questions,” I replied, already moving ahead.

To him, this was a strategy meeting. Just another favor. To me, it was the closest thing to a date I could get without him running.

The moment we stepped inside, I pulled my hood lower and slid my dark glasses on. Cameras flashed somewhere in the distance, murmurs filled the space, but Halo did not notice any of it.

His eyes lit up.

He stopped walking entirely, head tilting back as he took in the high ceilings, the white walls, the way the lights kissed each frame like reverence.

“Oh,” he breathed. “They finally brought this collection here.”

I watched him instead of the art.

“You like Demas?” I asked.

He turned to me sharply, shocked. “Like him? He is my favorite. His emotions are messy but honest. He does not try to make pain pretty. He lets it be ugly.”

I smiled. “I have a tattoo of my favorite Demas piece.”

That got his full attention.

“You do?” His eyes widened. “Where?”

“In a private area,” I said smoothly. Too smoothly.

He blinked, then grinned. “That makes sense. Demas is very erotic and emotional. Of course, it would be private.”

Then, without hesitation, he added, “Can I see it?”

I froze.

For half a second, my brain went completely blank.

“You want to see it?” I repeated.

He nodded, dead serious. “Yes. I love seeing how people carry art on their bodies. It means something.”

I laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. “Maybe another time.”

He studied my face, clearly confused but not pushing. That somehow made it worse.

To save myself, I turned sharply and pointed at a nearby piece. “Come on. This one is impressive.”

We stood in front of a large painting, raw strokes, bodies half-formed, faces blurred with emotion.

His breath caught.

“This,” he whispered. “This is my favorite one.”

Of course it was.

“If I had the money,” he continued softly, “I would buy it. I would hang it somewhere I could see it every day.”

“I can buy it for you,” I said instantly.

He turned, surprised, then smiled gently. “No.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “It would be more romantic if your brother bought it for me.”

My jaw tightened.

Romantic.

Lucian.

My fingers curled at my side before I could stop myself.

I forced a smile. “You really know how to pick your words.”

He did not notice my reaction. He was still staring at the painting, eyes shining, unaware of the way something ugly and sharp had settled in my chest.

As we moved from one hall to another, Halo finally slowed down. His excitement dulled, and his brows pulled together as something heavy had settled on him.

“So,” he said quietly, stopping in front of a sculpture he barely looked at. “What now?”

I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

He turned fully to me. “What do we do to make Lucian want me?”

There it was.

The question I expected. The question I hated.

I kept my face relaxed even though something sour twisted in my chest. “You already know why we came here.”

He sighed. “You said strategy. You did not say details.”

I shrugged. “Fine. Simple version. We make him jealous.”

Halo stared at me. “Jealous how?”

“You get close to me.”

His face twisted instantly. Mocking disgust flashed across his features before he slapped a hand to his chest dramatically.

“Oh no,” he groaned, then covered his face with his palm. “Do we really have to go that far?”

I laughed. “I have not even told you how far we might need to go.”

He peeked at me between his fingers. “I do not even like you like that.”

Ouch.

I pressed a hand to my chest. “Wow. That hurt.”

He waved it off. “You will live.”

We started walking again. He kept talking, clearly more comfortable complaining than thinking.

“This plan is ridiculous,” he said. “Lucian barely looks at me. And when he does, it is like he is judging my soul.”

“That means he cares,” I replied.

“That means he hates me.”

“Same thing with my brother.”

He frowned. “You really think this will work?”

“Yes,” I said easily. “Lucian reacts to control. To possession. If he sees you laughing with me, leaning close, choosing me, it will get under his skin.”

Halo stopped again. “So what exactly do I have to do?”

I counted on my fingers. “Sit close to me. Let me touch your arm. Laugh at my jokes. Let him see you choose me over him.”

“That is already too much,” he muttered.

“You want him or not?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I do.”

“There you go.”

He looked at me then, really looked. “And you are okay with this? Helping me get your brother?”

I smiled lightly. “I told you. Strategy meeting.”

He nodded slowly, still unsure. “You better not be lying.”

I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “Relax. I am very good at getting Lucian’s attention.”

Halo swallowed.

From across the room, I caught the reflection of dark glass.

Lucian had arrived.