Night Coffee

Late that night,

Alyssa's grip tightened on the tray in her hold.

A look of reluctance appeared in her gaze, but in a flash, just as it came, it left the same.

Her gaze sauntered to the cup of coffee on the tray before a quick exhale left her lips—She's nervous!

Raising her first, she delivered a quiet knock on the protective door.

A door she shouldn't be closed to.

Yet surprisingly, “Come in,”

Her grip on the tray hardened into a squeeze.

His tone was rather calm and low, contrary to how it normally sounded when he's in the mood to wreak havoc.

Sighing, Alyssa made sure to be in full play, as her expression immediately softened before she struggled to pull the knob and finally get it right—Of course it's part of her facade.

Zion was tiredly spiraled on his massive king-size bed, with his left hand shielding his eyes and one of his long legs folded underneath the other.

From the moment he heard his maid struggling with the door she usually opens, he knew something was amiss.

“—sir,”