Pyris didn't need to say it outright. It was in the way he smiled, in the way his fingers traced the rim of his glass with slow, calculated ease. It was in the way he met their gazes—unflinching, unapologetic, daring them to challenge him.
He was telling them, with every glance, every measured breath, every slight tilt of his head, I will be the bane of your existence.
And they knew it.
The men at the table—powerful in their own right, proud, accustomed to having their way—watched him with varying degrees of disdain, amusement, and, most telling of all, unease. Because Pyris wasn't just some charming rogue flirting with women already spoken for. No, he was something else entirely. Something dangerous.
He didn't simply take up space; he dominated it. He didn't just command attention; he consumed it, leaving no room for anyone else.
And worst of all? He made it look effortless.
