Chapter 12

Zenith’s POV

My throat tightened as we stepped inside. The staff greeted Helton James as if they knew him. Maybe they did. Maybe this was just one of his usual places. He didn’t glance at me as he checked us in, didn’t ask for two keys—just took one, slid it into his coat pocket, and turned.

“Come on.”

I followed silently.

The suite was large. Clean. Expensive. A bottle of wine sat on the table beside a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries. The windows opened to a wide city view.

He set his jacket on the back of a chair and began unbuttoning his cuffs. My heart thudded.

I knew what was next. This was part of the contract. This was what I agreed to. He was being patient, giving me space—but the expectation hung in the air like electricity before a storm.

“I’ll take a quick shower,” I said, not quite meeting his eyes.

He nodded once. “Take your time.”

Inside the bathroom, I turned on the water and let it run while I stared at my reflection.

Was I really going to do this?

I wasn’t a virgin. I wasn’t innocent. But this wasn’t just sex. It was something else. Something transactional. Something I had agreed to with a pen and a clause.

And yet… it didn’t feel forced. It just felt surreal. I was doing this with someone other than Dexter—Dexter, who I had been with for over four years. It was hard. Even after his betrayal, I couldn’t just press a button and forget everything about us, everything about him, or what I felt.

It felt dangerously close to betrayal—and that realization made my chest tighten. Why was I feeling this way? Why couldn’t I stop?

I showered quickly. Water dripped from my hair onto the hotel’s plush towel as I wrapped it around myself.

The hotel robe was thick, luxurious. I tied the belt tightly at my waist and took a deep breath before stepping out.

Helton James turned his head. His eyes widened.

I froze. My heart raced. Did he see how conflicted I was? Did he know what I was feeling?

My fingers fiddled with the sash tied around my waist, tugging it tighter even though it was already snug. I hadn’t expected this to feel so… awkward.

The room was dimly lit, elegant in a way that whispered wealth without shouting it. One wall was glass, offering a panoramic view of the city, lights twinkling like distant stars. I could even see the hospital from here—a small comfort, knowing I could easily go to Mom if I needed to.

My gaze returned to him. His eyes didn’t leave me. Not once.

A strange silence hung between us, like a chord waiting to be struck. My bare feet padded softly across the cool hardwood floor as I walked closer. With every step, my heart thumped faster, heavier. I guessed I was going to have to do this.

Just as I bent slightly toward him, hands reaching for his shoulders, he caught my wrists gently.

“What are you doing?” His voice was lower than usual, hesitant.

I blinked, surprised. “Setting the mood?” I offered, the words weak, almost a whisper tugging at my lips.

His brows drew together, and he swallowed thickly, as if he hadn’t expected that answer. A long pause stretched between us. Then he shook his head slowly.

“I brought you here to rest, Zenith. Not for that. The hospital is just a floor below. You needed somewhere better than a stiff waiting room chair.”

My breath caught.

Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flamed, and I pulled my arms back quickly. “Oh—right. Sorry, I just—”

Before I could finish, he moved. Quick. Intentional.

His hand closed around my wrist again, and in a blink, I was spun onto the mattress. My back sank into the soft comforter as he hovered over me, caging me with those arms, those sharp eyes burning.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Malishka,” he murmured. “If you’re up for this… I wouldn’t decline.”

The way he said it made my stomach flip. His face was so close. His breath fanned across my lips, and his scent—warm, woodsy, with a hint of spice—wrapped around me like a second skin. It wasn’t overpowering. No, it was soothing, like the smell of forests.

But panic surged.

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “No, I—I’m exhausted. I think I’ll just sleep.”

I was painfully aware I was basically naked beneath the robe. I looked anywhere but at him, afraid my expression might give me away. Embarrassment bloomed hot across my chest and up my neck. Seriously, Zenith. Dig a hole. Crawl in. Bury yourself.

Helton James didn’t move for a moment, still watching me with that unreadable expression. Then he exhaled slowly and rolled off, sitting up beside me.

“Fair enough,” he said, tugging the covers up over both of us. He settled on his side, silent. For a moment, I just stared at the ceiling.

We were sleeping together. Literally, in the same bed.

My spine stiffened, and I turned away, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.

I frowned. Even though I didn’t want to, my mind wandered. I shouldn’t be thinking about this… about him.

But I missed the warmth. The comfort. The mindless security of curling into someone at night, of being held.

God, I missed Dexter. And I hated I did. Not the Dexter who betrayed me—no, not the selfish man I’d seen scrambling on the floor to pull on his pants—but the one who used to wrap his arms around me, kiss the top of my head, and whisper that everything would be okay. The one who made me feel like I mattered.

Now I was marrying someone else. Someone I didn’t love.

Even if it was just a contract marriage. Even if we hadn’t discussed exclusivity. It still felt wrong to think about Dexter when I now had Helton James. I didn’t want to be like him. I didn’t want to be a cheater.

So I pushed the memories aside and hugged myself tighter, focusing on my breathing.

And then—

I yelped.

Warm arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me back against a solid chest. My heart stuttered.

“W–What—”

“Sorry,” Helton James murmured, his voice rough with fatigue. “I’m used to hugging a pillow when I sleep. But they don’t have one big enough here.”

Was he serious? I imagined him wrapped around some oversized teddy bear and couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out—a real, surprised sound.

“So… you’re using me as a pillow?”

“Yeah.”

His reply was so casual, so matter-of-fact, it caught me off guard again. I smiled despite myself. His scent was stupidly pleasant—pine and earth, clean and grounding. I wanted to lean back into him, let myself melt. But I didn’t.

Well… maybe just a little.

Eventually, exhaustion took over. I was too tired to care about anything else. The tension in my muscles eased, my thoughts slowed. And with the sound of his steady breathing behind me, the warmth of his body pressed into mine. I finally let sleep take me.

The loud ringing of my phone jerked me awake.

I groaned, blinking blearily against the early morning light seeping through the curtains. I rolled over, hand reaching for the nightstand.

But the bed beside me was empty.

For a moment, I froze. Then the memories of last night came rushing back, flooding my chest with equal parts embarrassment and confusion.

I grabbed my phone, realizing… the hospital. I sat up straight.

“Hello?”

“Miss Francia! Your mother is awake. She’s asking for you.”

Relief swept over me like a crashing wave. My heart pounded, and I was already halfway out of bed.

I scrambled to the vanity, finding my dress from last night neatly laid out. A handwritten note sat beside it:

Zenith, Didn’t want to wake you. You looked like you needed the sleep. Everything at the hospital is handled. Call for breakfast. Yours, Helton James.

I stared at the note, touched but also weirdly uneasy. I had never enjoyed feeling indebted to someone.

Still, there was no time to dwell. I grabbed a water bottle and a protein bar from the minibar and headed to the front desk, intending to pay for them.

“Mr. Blake has covered everything,” the receptionist said politely.

Of course it had.

I bit into the bar, already halfway through it. No use arguing now.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, mouth full.

Then I turned and walked out, bracing myself for the storm that was my mother. Because if I thought surviving heartbreak and marrying a billionaire on contract was hard… Zia Francia’s wrath might actually kill me.