Chapter 21

Zara’s POV

I woke up with my head feeling like it had been split clean down the middle.

The pain came first, dull, heavy, pressing behind my eyes like a weight I couldn’t lift. I groaned softly and shifted, only to realize I wasn’t wearing the clothes I’d gone out in last night.

A blanket was tucked carefully around me, the fabric warm against my skin. That alone made my stomach tighten.

I opened my eyes slowly and realized where I was. My bedroom.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, almost too bright. I squeezed my eyes shut again, waiting for the nausea to settle.

My mouth felt dry, and my tongue heavy. Every sound felt amplified, the faint hum of the house, distant footsteps, the tick of time dragging forward without my permission.

I pushed myself up carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed and the room spun briefly before steadying. I looked down at myself.

Seeing that I had changed clothes on. A loose shirt. Comfortable pants that wasn't even mine. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as the memories came back in fragments at first.

The Music. Lights. Laughter. Alex’s smile. Sofia’s voice. A drink cold in my hand.

Then the sharp turn, the sickness. The alley. Alex leaning in too close.

And then—Matteo suddenly showed up. His face flashing into view like a crack of lightning through fog. His voice distant and grip solid. The way everything had gone dark right after.

I pressed my palms against my temples, breathing slowly because it was for some reason starting to hurt.

“You idiot,” I muttered to myself.

I swung my legs off the bed and stood, wincing as a wave of dizziness rolled through me. There was no way I was making it to school today. Just the thought of sitting through lectures made my stomach churn.

I needed water. And Marco’s side of the story too. If anyone could explain how I’d ended up back here without dying of embarrassment, it was him.

I shuffled out of my room, barefoot, holding onto the wall as I made my way down the corridor. The house was quieter than usual. Almost too calm, considering the chaos that had apparently happened just hours ago.

As I walked, flashes of last night continued to push forward. Matteo’s hands, the way he’d appeared out of nowhere. The violence in his movement when he shoved Alex away.

Wondering how he’d gotten there in the first place. I turned the corner toward the back wing, heading for the staff quarters, when I heard the soft tap of keys.

I froze.

The living room opened up ahead of me, the morning pouring in through the tall windows of the house. Matteo sat on the couch, laptop balanced on his knee, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed in a way that made my blood boil instantly.

He looked perfectly fine. Like he hadn’t ripped someone away from me the night before.

I kept my head down and walked past, determined not to acknowledge him.

“Someone is finally up,” he called out, breaking the silence in the room.

But I didn’t stop.

“We have to talk!” Matteo added and that did it. I turned so fast the room spun again, anger cutting through the haze like a blade in my chest.

“Why on earth do you keep following me?” I snapped.

He looked up fully now, eyebrows lifting slightly. “I’m not following you.”

“Really?” I laughed bitterly. “Because it sure feels like you’re everywhere I go.”

“You were unconscious,” he said calmly. “Someone had to bring you home.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” I shot back.

His jaw tightened. “You were drugged.”

The word hit harder than I expected.

“What?” I whispered and he stood slowly, setting the laptop aside. “Perhaps at the party, you were given something other than alcohol.”

My stomach twisted violently and I gripped the back of a chair to steady myself. “It was just a drink, nothing else”

“Are you sure about that?” he said firmly. “Because you were tested over the night and the results by morning stated that you were clearly drugged.”

I stared at him and then I finally parted my lips to respond. “Why?”

“Because I don’t make assumptions where your safety is concerned.”

That only made the anger flare brighter in my chest as I glared at him.

“There it is,” I said aggressively. “That thing you do. Acting like I’m some responsibility you never signed up for.”

“You went to a party without telling anyone,” he countered. “Against direct instructions.”

“I am not one of your men,” I yelled. “You don’t get to give me instructions!”

He stepped closer. “You live under my roof.”

“That doesn’t make you my keeper!”

Silence this time slammed between us as his eyes darkened, something dangerous flickering beneath the surface. “You were almost taken advantage of last night.”

“And you think that gives you the right to control my life?” I demanded. “To show up and scare people off like I belong to you?”

“I didn’t scare him,” he said coldly, taking another step forward, “I removed a threat.”

I scoffed. “You punched him.”

“He tried to kiss you when you could barely stand.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again as anger warred with unease in my chest.

“I can take care of myself,” I said finally, quieter but no less fierce.

“Last night says otherwise.”

“That was one mistake,” I shot back. “One bad decision. That doesn’t give you authority over me.”

He studied me for a long moment, eyes searching my face like he was trying to decide something.

“You don’t understand the world you’re walking into, do you?” he said slowly.

“I didn’t ask to be part of your world!” I snapped. “I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t ask for you to drag me out of a party or pin me against walls or decide what’s safe for me!”

That caught his attention for a second and his expression shifted slightly.

“You think I enjoyed that?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t care,” I replied. “I’m sick of you showing up and rearranging my life like it’s yours to manage.”

He exhaled for a moment and then looked away. “You think I want this situation?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “I think you like control. I think it makes you feel powerful.”

His eyes flashed. “Careful there Zee.”

‘Zee? That’s not even my name!’ I grumbled.

“Or what?” I challenged. “You’ll lock me in my room?”

His silence was enough to make my chest ache.

“I just want to live my life,” I said, voice breaking despite myself. “I want one thing that’s mine. One choice you don’t interfere with.”

“And if that choice gets you killed?” he asked.

I stared at him, breathing hard. “Then it’ll be my mistake to make.”

The tension between us stretched tight, as I walked away.