A SECRET ON THE BRINK

Chapter 11 - A SECRET ON THE BRINK

ZAYDEN 

The moment Vincent stepped into the room, my heart nearly stopped. The door creaked as he pushed it open wider, his sharp eyes sweeping over me. I forced my breathing to slow, ignoring the thin sheen of sweat on my forehead.

He frowned. "Why are you standing like that? And why the hell are you sweating?"

I clenched my jaw. Think fast.

"Just… exercising," I said, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "I couldn’t sleep, so I thought a little workout might help."

Vincent narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "At this hour? In your room?"

I shrugged, running a hand through my hair. "I don’t see a gym around, do you?"

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Fine. Whatever. Have you seen Scarlett? I’ve been looking for her everywhere. She’s not in our room."

I kept my face blank, my fingers twitching at my sides. "No. Haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s outside or something."

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's late. I don’t know why she keeps disappearing. I swear, she’s acting strange lately."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. The entire time, I could feel Scarlett’s presence beneath my bed, her breath shallow, her body motionless. If Vincent so much as glanced down, it would all be over.

"She’ll turn up," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Maybe she just needed some air."

Vincent exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. Maybe. If you see her, tell her to come back to our room."

"Sure."

He lingered for another second before turning toward the door. The moment it shut behind him, I let out a slow breath, my muscles finally unlocking.

I waited a beat before crouching down. "Scarlett," I whispered. "Come out."

Slowly, she crawled out from under the bed, her hair slightly messy, her robe barely clinging to her frame. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. "We almost got caught."

I nodded, raking a hand through my hair. "Yeah. That was too close."

She crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. "This is your fault, you know. You forced me to marry him. And now, look at us. You want me, but you gave me away."

I stared at her, my chest tightening. "Scarlett—"

"No," she cut me off, shaking her head. "I can’t do this. I should go."

Something in my gut twisted at her words, but I didn’t stop her as she grabbed her robe tighter around herself and slipped out of the room. I stood there, staring at the door long after she had left, my mind a war zone.

Was I making a mistake? Or was I already too deep in to stop?

---

The next morning, I woke up feeling drained, but my body buzzed with restless energy. I threw on a shirt and headed downstairs, following the faint clatter of pots and pans. The scent of bacon and eggs filled the air, but the tension in the kitchen was thick.

Scarlett stood at the stove, flipping pancakes. Her movements were stiff, her lips pressed into a thin line.

I leaned against the counter, watching her. "Morning."

She didn’t look at me. "Morning."

I frowned. "You okay?"

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "You’re asking me that? After last night?"

I ran a hand down my face. "Scarlett—"

"Don’t." She finally turned, her eyes flashing. "Just don’t."

A thick silence stretched between us. My fists clenched at my sides. "Are we going to pretend like nothing happened?"

She scoffed. "What do you want me to do, Zayden? Throw myself at you? Run to you like some desperate woman who can’t control herself? I might be a lot of things, but I’m not stupid."

My jaw tightened. "That’s not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?" she challenged, stepping closer. "Tell me. What the hell do you want from me? Because last I checked, I’m married to your son. And you’re my father-in-law."

Hearing those words sent a sharp, bitter stab through my chest. I hated it. I hated every damn part of this situation. But most of all, I hated that I wanted her so much it was driving me insane.

"I don’t know what I want," I admitted, my voice rough. "All I know is that when I’m around you, I lose control. And I don’t know how to stop."

Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the spatula. For a moment, she just stared at me, and I could see the war in her eyes.

Then, she exhaled shakily. "We can't keep doing this. We almost got caught last night. And next time…" Her voice trailed off, but the warning was clear.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Are you saying you don’t want me?"

She hesitated. A second too long.

I smirked. "Thought so."

She huffed, turning back to the stove. "Just eat your damn breakfast."

I grabbed a plate, sitting at the kitchen island, watching her as she moved. Every glance, every little shift of her body sent a new wave of heat through me.

This was dangerous. Reckless.

But hell if I was going to stop now.

---

The day passed in a blur of tension. Vincent was oblivious, but every time Scarlett and I crossed paths, the air between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. She avoided my gaze. I watched her too much.

By evening, I found myself pacing in my room, my mind racing. This couldn’t continue.

Or maybe… it already had a life of its own.

A knock on the door made me freeze.

Not again.

I hesitated before opening it.

Scarlett stood there, biting her lip, eyes conflicted. "I hate this."

"Me too."

"Then what do we do?" she whispered.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "We either stop. Or we fall."

She inhaled sharply. "And if I’m already falling?"

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"Then we fall together."

A shadow crossed her face. "No. We burn."

“We need to stop. I can only continue this if you tell me right now to divorce your son and tell me the truth about my Dad. Were you the one that framed him? Answer me now!”