chapter 3

ZANE’S POV

The flight back home was draining, but last night’s conversation with my father’s wife wasn't one I’d anticipated.

I’d been called a lot of things in my life, from reckless and arrogant to Silas Sterling’s greatest disappointment. But security was new, and I still wasn’t sure whether to be deeply offended or impressed at her audacity. 

My father’s office looked the same as it had four years ago. Everything was as it was… except the huge portrait of him and the new girl above the fireplace. She wore a silver gown that glowed against her pale skin, and a long slit went up her thigh, the only daring thing about the dress. I looked away from the picture, ignoring the odd thing in my chest.

“Why exactly are you back here, Zane?”

“Is it a bad thing to miss my old man?” I asked, dropping into the chair across from him without permission. His face remained composed as it's always been since I was twelve and old enough to know what he did at night to my mother. A long silence stretched between us, then he spoke.

“I believe you've met my wife.” He idly turned the ring on his little finger, a habit I’d unfortunately adopted. “So much prettier than your mother, isn't she?” The smile that followed was one of contempt. He knew what bringing up my mother did to me, as he’d known for twenty years. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction he was looking for. I had a plan, and by God, I’d do anything to see it through.

“Hmm. Yes, she is.” I held his gaze. “Would be a shame if I took her.”

The twist in his face was slight, and a not-so-keen eye would’ve missed it. But not me. Years with him had taught me things I wish I didn’t know.

“I’m sure you didn’t call me here to exchange pleasantries or ask for the reason for my return,” I started. “So, what do you want, Silas?”

“I want you to be Veda’s chaperone.”

I paused, not fully sure I got what he said.

“I don’t trust her,” he continued, not caring if I was following or not.

“And you trust me?”

We both knew the answer to that. “Watch her,” he said. “And I might consider giving you the one thing you’ve always wanted.”

I squeezed the arm of the chair slightly. The bastard. He’d always known how to get to me. 

“You should be careful, Silas,” I said, an insolent smile twisting my lips. “You wouldn't want your little doll harmed, now would you?”

I walked away without waiting for a response. I didn’t need one. Not when the man I was bent on ruining had dangled in my face, the final thing I needed, in return for babysitting his gold-digging doll.

I really needed some water.

The pool has always been mine. It was the only place that calmed me after an irritating encounter with Silas.

When I got there, I dropped my towel on the lounger and was three steps from the edge when I saw her. She was already there. Of course she was.

Veda was at the far end of the pool, her arms folded over the edge, head tipped back, and eyes closed. A book was on her lap, and my eyes trailed downwards, mapping the shape of her legs and going back up.

Until grey eyes met my gaze. Those fucking eyes!

“If you’re done having your fill,” she said, her eyes staring me down. “You can leave.”

“Excuse me?” I said. 

“This is my pool time. Has been for two years.” She straightened up and picked up the book on her lap. “You can come back in an hour.”

Once again, I still wasn’t sure whether to be deeply offended or impressed at her audacity. 

“My name is on the deed of this property.”

“And my name is on the marriage certificate.” She flipped through a page in the book, blatantly ignoring my existence. “Which gives me certain rights, including this pool between three and four.”

I couldn’t help but move closer, my rage taking over common sense. I can’t count the number of times I’d clenched and unclenched my fists in the short time she’d opened her mouth to speak. I was meant to babysit her?

“And who, sweet Veda, decided that?” I was already right in front of her, but she still ignored me, focusing on the open page in front of her.

“I did.”

“Get up,” I said.

She didn’t answer, so I did what I did best: be an asshole.

The splash of paper hitting water echoed around us, and Veda screamed. 

“You asshole. Why would you—”

I grabbed her by the arms and lifted her, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other held her hands behind her back.

“The next time I tell you to do something,” I whispered, my lips ghosting her cherry red, plump ones. “You do it. Is that clear, Veda?”

“Let me go,” she seethed, her eyes turning a shade that matched the storm brewing in my chest. I tightened my hold on her hands, and a gasp escaped her lips.

“Is. That. Clear?”

Her breath hitched, and her tongue peeked out, albeit briefly, and swiped against her bottom lip. I could see little dustings of freckles across her cheek and wanted to taste them. I could also feel two hard points poking my chest.

A slow smile spread across my face.

My gaze moved to her ears. She was still wearing the earrings I clearly told her to take off last night. The rage came back as quickly as it left. 

“Why are you still wearing them, Veda? And by God, if you don’t answer me, I’ll spank you right here.”

“I forgot,” she whispered, her cheeks pinking.

“You forgot. For an entire day.”

“Yes.”

“Take them off.”

At that moment, whatever haze she seemed to be in lifted off, and her defiance came back in that infuriating lift of her chin.

“Well, who would’ve thought I could do that without hands?”

The door crashed open before I could answer her snarky tone, and she moved away from me like I'd burned her.

A maid appeared at the pool entrance. “Excuse me—”

“What?” we both barked, turning on her together.

The girl flinched back, and her eyes went wide. With a trembling voice, she spoke again, “Dinner is almost ready,” and then she turned and walked or rather, ran inside.

There was a long pause between us, but by the time I turned, Veda was already on her way inside.

I stood at the edge of the doorway, my jaw tight, my fists clenched, and my cock hard.

Fuck.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, about to follow her in, when my phone buzzed. I reluctantly picked it up and saw a message from Marcus.

How’s the estate?

I stared at the text.

Same old, I typed.

The dots appeared immediately. Then: The wife?

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, deciding not to send a reply.

I came back here with one plan. One clear, organised, four-year-in-the-making plan. And in less than twenty-four hours, Silas Sterling’s wife had gotten under my skin in a way I had absolutely no idea what to do with.

I needed a new plan. But the problem was, for the first time in four years, I didn’t have one.