Welcome, sweetheart!

~Zara POV~

I stood there like the spare part nobody asked for. 

Chance was all over Kaden. Hand on hers. Lips on her knuckles. She was blushing like a teenager. 

I scoffed internally. The sound died in my chest.

“You know I can’t survive on just your food,” Chance purred, eyes on Kaden.

“I know, love,” she giggled. “Sit. I’ll bring it.”

I wanted to yank her away. He smelled like money and trouble. Predator in designer cologne.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. Then he turned. Slow. 

His gaze hit me like a weight. I looked away. Too late.

“You won't introduce me to your beautiful friend?” he said. Voice low. Too close.

Kaden grabbed my wrist. “Zara She just moved in. You’re neighbors!”

“Whitmores’ place,” Chance said. Eyes lighting up. Sharp. Predatory. 

“Miss Zara. Nice name.” He said it slowly, like he was tasting it. Husky. Intimate. My skin crawled. He held out his hand.

I stared. That hand. Last night. Window. Two women. I knew what that hand was doing, and it was disgusting. 

Kaden elbowed me really hard. And I glared at her before taking his hand. His skin was warm, and his grip was firm. Too firm.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. Ice in my voice. I pulled back. He held on half a second too long.

“She’s shy,” he chuckled.

“Stop it,” Kaden laughed. “She’s reserved.”

“For a beautiful woman?” He leaned back. Shoulders wide. Arms like he’d spent years breaking things. “Shyness wasn’t what I expected.”

“Go sit down,” Kaden shoved him toward a booth. “Breakfast’s coming.”

He threw me one last look. Mocking. Amused. Then swaggered off.

“Chance does that,” Kaden whispered. “To women.”

“I wasn’t….” I snapped. “I don’t care what he does.”

“You will,” she grinned. “If you survive him.” She vanished into the kitchen.

“I’m not like them,” I muttered. “He’s a jerk. I hate jerks.”

“Alright, Missy. Take this to him,” Kaden shoved a heavy tray in my hands. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. “Be nice. He’s my best customer.”

I wanted to drop it. I didn’t. I owed her.

I walked out. He was on his phone, sprawled in the booth like he owned the place.

“Oh. Breakfast.” He didn’t look up. “Service with a scowl. I like it. Kaden’s all sunshine.”

“Eat,” I snapped. Set the tray down hard. Silverware rattled.

“Ouch. The bacon didn’t do anything to you, sweetheart.” He put his phone down. Looked at me. Fully. 

Up close his eyes weren’t grey-blue. They were storm clouds. Dangerous. UnpredictableSilence stretched. I should’ve left. Kaden would kill me if I were rude.

“So…” Chance leaned forward, fingers laced. “About last night. The window…”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. Voice shaking with rage. “Don’t say a word.”

“I was going to explain,” he said. Earnest now. Too late.

“Explain what? That you’re indecent? That you don’t care who sees your… activities?” I glared. Heart hammering. “You’re loud. Arrogant. A pig.”

He blinked. Mouth fell open. “Lady, I was in my house.”

“Save it,” I hissed. “I have morals. If you want an apology for what I saw, you’ll wait until the sun dies.”

“An apology?” He laughed. Dry. Short. Leaned in. Too close. “I was offering an explanation. Neighbors should start right.”

“I don’t care about your right foot or any part of you,” I snapped, leaning in too. “I saw what kind of man you are. You treat women like napkins. Disposable. Pathetic.”

“Pathetic” His smirk sharpened. Eyes went cold. “Strong word from someone who was watching through the curtains.”

“I was closing them!”

“And yet you stayed long enough to judge,” he said, voice dropping. Smooth. Dangerous. “Maybe you weren’t disgusted, Zara. Maybe you were just… surprised. By what a real man looks like.”

The word real hit like a slap. I gripped the table. My knuckles had turned white.

“A real man has respect,” I said, trembling with hate. “You? You’re a loud toy with a god complex. Chiseled jaw. Tattoos. Think the world’s your bedroom. Newsflash: I’m not your audience.”

Chance went still. Fork halfway to his mouth. The playful glint died. Replaced by something sharp. Curious.

He stood. Slow. Towering. I had to tilt my head up. The air between us went heavy. Electric.

“You’ve got fire for a shy lady,” he murmured, stepping around the booth until he was inches away. I didn’t flinch. 

“But don’t confuse judgment with morality. You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” I spat. “I know I’ll hate living next to you.”

“Good,” he whispered. Dark grin. “Hate’s more interesting than ‘nice to meet you.’ See you at home, neighbor.” He sat down.

I turned and stormed back to the kitchen. Furious. Shaking.

------

Chance didn’t move. He just watched her walk away.

Not the hips this time. The shock.

“What the fuck did I do?” he muttered.

He’d spent his life being chased. Worshipped. Respected. No one called him indecent. He’d only wanted to explain about the curtains. About how he didn’t know the Whitmore house was occupied.

“Indecent,” he repeated, stabbing bacon like it offended him. 

Grey-blue eyes locked on the kitchen door. No woman had ever looked at him like that. Like he was trash.

It pissed him off. It insulted him. 

And God help him… it was the most interesting thing that’d happened in years.