Chapter 11

Zaria

“Are you okay?”

Jasper’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, soft but concerned. I blink and realize I’ve stopped moving entirely. People are still dancing and laughing, yet all I can feel is that horrible awareness crawling up my spine.

I scan the room, my heart thudding wildly as my eyes dart from face to face, searching for a tall, broad frame. Dark eyes. A cold smirk. I can’t see him, but I know he’s here. I can feel him watching. 

“I’m… I’m good,” I tell Jasper, but the words feel unconvincing. My attention keeps slipping. I swallow, then force myself to look at him properly. He’s still smiling warmly, completely unaware that my night has just been hijacked by a man who thrives on control.

“I actually…” I hesitate, then exhale. “Would you like to get out of here? Somewhere quieter?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise before he smiles. “Yeah,” he says quickly, like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind. “I’d really like that.”

Good. Because I need to leave now. We weave our way through the crowd, my hand brushing his arm as we move. I feel restless, jumpy, like every second spent inside this club is another second Tristan has over me. When we spot Anna near the bar, still laughing with her guy, I gently tug Jasper toward her.

“Hey,” I say, leaning closer so she can hear me over the music. “Jasper and I are heading out. Somewhere quieter.”

Anna’s eyes flick between us, then she breaks into a knowing grin. “Ohhh,” she teases. “Have fun, babe.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Shut up,” I mutter, waving her off before she can embarrass me further. Jasper chuckles beside me as we make our way out of the club. The cool night air hits me the moment we step outside, and I inhale deeply, grateful for the relief. But the world tilts slightly, my head swimming, and I stumble just a bit.

“Hey,” Jasper says, steadying me. “You okay?”

“I..I think I had more to drink than I realized,” I admit with a small laugh. My cheeks feel warm, my limbs a little loose.

He looks at me for a second longer than necessary, his gaze slow and deliberate. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

I smile despite myself. The compliment is nice to hear. He steps closer, his hand lifting as if to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I barely have time to register what’s happening before he leans in, ready to kiss me. And then suddenly, he’s gone. One second Jasper is right in front of me, the next he’s being yanked backward with so much force that I gasp, my heart lurching into my throat.

“What the—?”

My breath catches as a familiar presence slams into my space, dark and overwhelming and terrifyingly controlled. Tristan King.

Tristan’s hand is still wrapped around Jasper’s collar, his grip unyielding, his expression carved from ice.

“Touch her again,” Tristan says calmly, “and I promise you’ll regret it for the rest of your very short life.”

Jasper pales as his eyes flick to me, then back to Tristan. Whatever he sees there convinces him. He raises his hands slowly, mutters an apology I barely hear, and backs away like a man who knows better than to argue with a predator. Seconds later, he disappears into the night. The moment he’s gone, all the fear in my chest ignites into fury.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I shout, shoving Tristan’s chest hard. “Have you lost your mind?”

He doesn’t move an inch.

“Are you stalking me now?” I demand, my voice shaking with anger. “Is that what this is? You just follow me around like some psycho?”

His lips twitch, almost amused. “You wish, don’t you?.”

I scoff. “Then what are you doing here, Tristan?”

“Well, I co-own the place,” he says flatly. “I saw you the moment you walked in. Hard not to notice you parading around like you don’t have a care in the world.”

That does it. “Oh, you absolute jerk—”

“You really have a talent for humiliating yourself,” he cuts in smoothly, eyes raking over me in slow, deliberate judgment. “Grinding on strangers in public like that. Is this who you are now, Zaria? Or were you always this desperate for attention?”

My vision goes red. Before I can stop myself, I raise my hand. But I don’t get the chance to slap him.

Tristan catches my wrist mid-air, his fingers locking around it like steel. In one swift movement, he spins me around, my back slamming flush against his chest. A sharp gasp tears from my throat as his free arm snakes around my waist, pinning me there effortlessly.

My pulse goes wild.

I can feel every hard line of him behind me. His heat. His muscles. His presence swallowing me whole.

“Don’t,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice low and dangerous. “Ever try to raise your hand at me again.”

His breath brushes my skin, sending a traitorous shiver straight through my body. My stomach tightens painfully, a strange, unwelcome pull settling deep between my legs. I hate myself for it. Hate him more for causing it.

His hand tightens at my middle, possessive, firm, like he’s reminding me exactly who’s in control.

“You listen to me carefully,” he continues, lips so close they almost touch my ear. “You will never go anywhere alone with a stranger again. Ever.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.

“If you do,” he says quietly, “I’ll fire you without hesitation, and I won’t stop there. I’ll hand your father over to the police myself.”

He releases me abruptly, stepping back as if the moment never happened. I turn to face him, trembling with rage, humiliation, and something far more dangerous that I refuse to name.

“You’re insane,” I whisper.

His eyes darken. “Get in the car.”

Before I can protest, he grips my elbow and leads me toward a sleek black car parked just outside. The driver steps out immediately, opening the back door.

“Take her straight home,” Tristan orders coolly.

I climb in, my hands shaking, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. The door shuts behind me with a heavy thud, sealing me inside.

As the car pulls away, I stare out the window, my chest burning, my heart in pieces. I’ve never felt so powerless. I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate Tristan King.

After a few minutes, I step out of the car on shaky legs and manage a stiff smile at the driver.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

He gives me a kind look, one that feels strangely grounding after the chaos of the night. “Take care of yourself, miss.”

I nod, turn, and walk into my building, my chest still tight, my thoughts tangled and loud. By the time I unlock my apartment door, all I want is a shower and silence.

The moment I step inside, I freeze. Samantha is standing in the middle of the living room. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her posture rigid, as if she’s been waiting here for hours.

“Samantha?” I blink. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. She just keeps staring at me, her jaw tight, something dark and unsettled flickering in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she finally says, her voice controlled. Too controlled. “But this stops now.”

I frown, dropping my bag slowly. “What stops?”

“This.” she snaps, gesturing between us. “You working for Tristan. You being dragged into his mess. Him using you to get back at our family.”

“Samantha—”

“Starting tomorrow,” she cuts in, stepping closer, “I’ll be the one working for Tristan. Not you.”

I stare at her, convinced I misheard. “What?”

“It’s my burden,” she says firmly. “Not yours. Tristan is mine to deal with.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“I do,” she insists. “And I’ve thought about it all night.”

“And what exactly makes you think Tristan would agree to that?” I ask, heat creeping into my voice. “He clearly said that he wants me punished specifically.”

Her eyes flash. “You don’t know him the way I do, Z.”

“He’s cruel, Sam. He’s calculated. He’s doing this to hurt us.”  I say quietly. 

Her lips press into a thin line. “He’s doing this because of me. Because he wants me! And I won’t let him destroy you to get to me,” she adds softly.

My chest aches, torn between anger and worry. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do. Starting from tomorrow, I don’t want to see you near his office. Go be with papa. He needs you.” She says before walking off. I silently watch her, wondering why she’s doing this. 

***