His lips are barely a breath away from mine when—
"Oh my God."
Both of us freeze.
Our heads turn at the exact same second.
Standing in the doorway are the heirs.
For a moment, no one moves, and the air shifts from something heated and dangerous into something painfully aware.
Eshan's eyes are wide like he just walked into a scene he was definitely not supposed to witness.
Razmir has that infuriating, knowing smirk already spreading across his face, and Rafaen stands slightly behind them, his expression unreadable but tight enough to feel like irritation sitting just beneath the surface.
I turn my head slightly.
Zayan looks down at me.
And for a split second, something flickers in his eyes.
Something I cannot name.
It is gone just as quickly as it appears, replaced by that same controlled calm he always wears, but I feel it anyway, like something unfinished hanging between us.
That is enough to snap me out of it.
I shove him hard.
My palms press against his chest and I push with all the strength I have, forcing space between us as I slide out from under him.
I immediately smooth down my shirt, my fingers moving too fast, too aware, like I need to erase every trace of what just almost happened.
Zayan leans back into the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his posture loose but his face anything but relaxed.
"What the fuck was that?" Eshan blurts out, still staring between us like he is trying to process what he just walked into.
Zayan does not even look at him at first.
When he does, his voice is cold.
"You don't understand what privacy means?"
Eshan lets out a short laugh, completely unbothered as he steps further inside. "Oh, come on. Since when do you two act like an actual married couple?" His grin widens. "What happened to the constant war? I feel like I missed a whole season."
I let out a quiet breath, dragging a hand through my hair as the awkwardness settles heavier than I expected. This is not how this was supposed to go. This was not supposed to be witnessed.
Rafaen exhales sharply and shakes his head before turning away without saying a word, walking deeper into the house like he has already lost interest in whatever chaos just happened.
All of us watch him for a second.
Eshan clicks his tongue and glances back at Zayan. "We really should've knocked," he says, though there is no regret in his tone. "Feels like we just ruined something important."
A cushion flies straight at his face.
"Get out," Zayan mutters.
Eshan catches it easily, laughing under his breath as he tosses it aside. Razmir steps forward slightly, his smirk still firmly in place as his eyes flick between me and Zayan.
"So?" he says casually. "Are you planning to continue, or did we just witness the end of a very tragic moment?"
"Shut the hell up," I snap instantly. "It was nothing. He was just being a dick."
Zayan's head tilts slightly as he looks at me.
There is a question in his eyes.
A quiet, dangerous one.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
My throat tightens.
I look away first.
Because looking at him right now is a mistake.
Eshan claps his hands once, breaking whatever tension is still lingering. "Alright, enough of whatever that was," he says, already moving toward the living room and dragging the rest of us with him like he owns the place.
I follow, gripping my phone tighter than necessary, my fingers pressing into the edges like I need something solid to hold onto.
Eshan slows down just enough to fall into step beside me, leaning slightly closer.
"What were you doing?" he murmurs under his breath.
"I was looking for someone," I reply, keeping my voice even.
"Who?"
"Someone I know very well."
My eyes flick toward Zayan without meaning to.
He is already looking at me.
There is something sharp in his gaze now, something slightly irritated, slightly darker, like he has not let go of what just got interrupted.
Rafaen is already seated, scrolling through his phone like nothing matters enough to pull his attention away.
Eshan walks straight to the fridge, opens it, and immediately groans like he has just been personally offended by what is inside.
"This place is depressing," he mutters, grabbing a water bottle anyway before closing it with more force than necessary.
Razmir drops onto the couch, stretching his arms across the backrest like he is settling in for entertainment. "Did you hear?" he says casually, glancing at Zayan. "The Veridian heir just landed."
Zayan's expression barely shifts. "Did he?"
Eshan scoffs as he walks back. "Don't tell me you don't know. The guy showed up today and already made it into the media. He is not even trying to stay quiet."
Razmir lets out a low laugh. "Bold move. Or stupid."
Zayan exhales sharply, the sound almost a scoff. Rafaen finally speaks without looking up from his phone.
"He looks like he is planning something."
The room quiets just slightly.
Zayan leans back, his gaze darkening just enough to notice.
"Let him."
Razmir leans back further into the couch, his expression sharpening just enough to show that the topic has shifted into something more serious beneath the casual tone.
"He'll do anything to get to the front," he says, voice laced with quiet certainty. "Doesn't matter how dirty it gets."
Zayan gives a small nod, completely unfazed. "If he can, he can," he replies calmly, like the whole situation barely registers as a threat. "I don't have any interest in playing games with them."
I stay silent.
Because I have no idea what the hell they are talking about.
The conversation moves around me like something coded, something heavy with meaning that I am not supposed to understand, and that irritates me more than I expect.
My fingers tighten slightly around my phone as I unlock it, the screen lighting up instantly.
The photograph is still there.
Zy.
The masked face stares back at me like it knows something I don't, like it is waiting for me to catch up.
My chest tightens.
"Excuse me," I mutter, already standing up before anyone can question it.
No one stops me.
I walk out of the living room without looking back, my steps quick and quiet as I head straight to my room.
The moment the door closes behind me, the air feels different, heavier, like I can finally breathe without being watched.
I move straight to the desk and open my laptop.
The screen lights up.
My fingers move fast.
Zayan's picture.
Zy's picture.
Side by side.
My heartbeat starts picking up as I zoom in on both images, studying every detail again, every angle, every shadow.
Then I start editing, pulling tools, adjusting layers, adding a mask over Zayan's face, reconstructing the exact shape and gear from the only existing photo of Zy.
The process pulls me in completely.
Minutes pass without me noticing.
I refine the angles.
Adjust the shadows.
Sharpen the jawline.
The more I work, the more my chest tightens.
Because it is starting to look the same.
Too much the same.
By the time I am almost done, my fingers slow down.
I stare at the screen.
Fuck.
It looks identical.
Not similar.
Not close.
Identical.
It feels like whoever took that photo never even tried to hide properly, like there is a quiet confidence in it, like he knew I would look at it one day and see this.
Like he wanted me to.
I am still staring when a voice cuts through the silence behind me.
"Are you sure about that?"
I flinch so hard my chair scrapes against the floor as I stand up abruptly, my heart slamming violently against my ribs. The laptop snaps shut with a loud thud before I even fully process what I am doing.
Zayan stands behind me.
Too close.
"Hey," he says, brows lifting slightly as he glances at the laptop. "Careful. That's a fucking MacBook."
His tone is light.
Casual.
But his eyes are not.
He steps closer.
Close enough that I have to tilt my head back slightly to keep looking at him.
"What were you doing?" he asks, voice lowering. "Editing something?"
I shake my head immediately. "I wasn't."
A soft chuckle leaves him, slow and knowing. "I always find it attractive when you lie," he murmurs. "Just like earlier. Saying you didn't want that kiss. Saying I was just being a dick."
My breath catches.
His eyes are darker now.
Sharper.
Predatory in a way that makes my stomach twist.
I take a step back.
He follows.
Another step.
Until my back hits the wall.
There is nowhere left to go.
"What are you doing, Zayan?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
He lifts both hands and places them on either side of my head, trapping me without touching me directly, his body close enough that the heat between us builds instantly again.
"I'm letting you do what you wanted to do," he says quietly.
My pulse jumps. "That was a mistake."
"Was it?" he asks.
He leans in slightly, not touching, just close enough to make it impossible to ignore.
My fingers press against the wall behind me.
"Where are the others?" I ask quickly, trying to pull the focus away from this.
"In the living room," he replies without looking away from me. "Why? Do you want me to call them in? Make it a show?"
My eyes narrow. "What if I do?"
His jaw tightens just slightly, the amusement in his expression fading into something colder. "I don't like entertaining others."
I roll my eyes, forcing some control back into myself. "What do you want right now?"
His gaze doesn't waver.
"I don't know," he says slowly. "Maybe an answer to what you were doing a minute ago."
I tilt my head. "Does it bother you?"
There is a pause.
"A little," he admits.
Something sharp and satisfied curls inside my chest.
"Good," I say quietly. "That's exactly what I want. I don't like you being at peace."
For a second, he just looks at me.
Then he smirks.
Slow.
Dangerous.
And just like that, he steps back, the pressure disappearing as suddenly as it came.
"Dinner's on me, wife," he says casually, like none of that just happened.
Then he turns and walks out.
The door closes behind him.
I stay where I am, pressed against the wall, my breathing uneven, my body still burning with the heat he left behind.
And I hate the way I don't move for a long time..
-------------
Midnight settles heavy and silent around the house, the kind of silence that feels too deep, too still, like something is waiting to happen.
I am dragged out of sleep by the sharp, irritating sound of my ringtone cutting through the darkness.
I groan softly, my hand fumbling across the bed until my fingers find my phone. My eyes barely open as I bring it closer, the bright screen stinging against my vision.
Zayan.
My brows pull together instantly.
Why the hell is he calling me?
He is literally just outside my room.
I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. "What—"
"Come downstairs."
The line cuts before I can say anything else.
I stare at the screen for a second, half convinced he has completely lost his mind.
I rub my eyes, pushing myself up from the bed, annoyance mixing with confusion as I swing my legs over the side. The house is quiet as I step out, the corridor dimly lit, the air colder than it should be at this hour.
My steps are slow at first.
Then faster.
By the time I reach the staircase, something feels off.
There is light coming from the living room.
A faint glow spilling into the hallway.
I descend the stairs carefully, each step quieter than the last, my heartbeat starting to pick up for no clear reason.
The closer I get, the heavier the air feels.
I reach the bottom.
Turn the corner.
And freeze.
Standing there—
Dressed in black gear, face hidden behind a balaclava—
Is the man I have been searching for.