Chapter 40: What It Costs to Be RightThe moment I walked into the office, the air felt wrong. Not cold, exactly, but heavy. My heels clicked against the polished floors with the confidence I didn’t feel, and by the time I reached my desk, Leah was already hovering.“Hey, uh… You might want to check your inbox,” she said gently, her eyes flickering toward the hallway that led to Zane’s office.My stomach dropped.I slid into my seat, opened my laptop, and clicked on the new messages. The subject lines were a blur, until one caught my eye and held it like a vise.RE: URGENT – Guest List BreachI opened it.A vendor had replied to an email I didn’t even remember sending. Attached was the high-profile guest list: politicians, celebrities, tech billionaires, all set to attend the wedding of the decade. The list that was supposed to be confidential, buried behind multiple encrypted firewalls and reserved only for top-tier planners.But there it was. Sent from my email. Attached in full.No
The delivery was supposed to be simple. A quick errand to the wellness clinic just a few blocks away, which was a luxury maternity center partnering with some of our vendors. It wasn’t in my original plan for the day, but Leah had double-booked a meeting, and Sera had been too busy fuming about some missing champagne flutes to go herself. So I volunteered to go. I needed the air, anyways. Stepping into the plush, pale-blue waiting room of Eterna Bloom, the scent of lavender hit me first. It was soft, calming, too gentle for the storm brewing in my chest since I left Zane’s apartment. The walls were lined with paintings of expectant mothers in flowing dresses, cradling their bellies beneath trees and moonlight. It was peaceful. Beautiful, even. I hated that I couldn’t enjoy it. “Hi,” I said, approaching the front desk. “I’m here for a pickup. On behalf of Voss-Blackwood Wedding.” The receptionist, a young woman with a high bun and a shiny name tag that read “Becca,” beamed a
Zane stepped closer, his hand finding mine. “One more day, Amara,” he said, softer this time. “One more day, here with me. Just… breathe. They’ll survive without you for twenty-four more hours. Please? Just one more day.” His fingers found mine, warm and reassuring. The brush of his skin against mine was electric. It was too much, and yet not enough. The space between us shrank. Our eyes locked. The air between us thickened with everything we hadn’t said, everything we still couldn’t say. For a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of us, suspended in fragile silence. His gaze was steady, persuasive. I hated how much I wanted to say yes. How easily he made the chaos of my world quiet just by standing still. My heart screamed to give in to him. I wanted to say yes. I almost did. But years of pain and betrayal tangled in my mind like thorns. I pulled away. “I can’t,” I said, voice tight. “This thing—whatever we’re doing—it’s already blurring lines I’ve tried hard
The evening had sunk into a quiet hush. I was seated in the sunroom, the warmth of the fading sun mixing with the soft amber glow of the lamps. The day had been surprisingly peaceful, almost a reprieve from the chaos of the past few days. Zane sat beside me, his presence oddly comforting even as a knot of questions twisted in my stomach. I was just starting to relax and my eyelids were growing heavy, when the sudden knock at the door shattered the calm. My heart jumped, pulse quickening. I got up immediately and rushed to hide. Zane’s body tensed. He stood slowly and moved to the door, his face unreadable but tight around the eyes. I watched him, curiosity prickling at the back of my mind. He opened the door, and in stepped a man I instantly recognized—Julian. Zane’s cousin from the photo I had stumbled across earlier. The man who Sera was always messaging and talking to via phone. Julian looked older now, his casual confidence wrapped in an easy grin that didn’t quite reach his e
“Amara,” Zane said softly, breaking into my thoughts, “thank you for staying.” I looked at him, heart pounding. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. But here I am.” “Good,” he whispered. “I never asked,” I said, “how you actually got this place. I mean, besides your family’s money.” Zane’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “A lot of charm and some very lucky investments. Also, YouTube tutorials on how to act like a billionaire.” I laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I guess you’re a natural then.” He gave a mock bow. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” I swallowed hard. “You never answered my question. What’s the worst thing about this place?” Zane’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, the easy warmth vanished. “The memories. The silence when I’m alone. The people who used to be here and aren’t anymore.” I wanted to ask more, to pry into the pain I saw lurking beneath his calm, but the moment slipped away. Instead, I smiled. “Well, maybe I’ll stick around and make some new memories. Giv
The smell of something warm and buttery drifted into the guest room before I even opened my eyes. For a moment, I forgot where I was: soft sheets, unfamiliar silence, and the scent of something other than my apartment's stale solitude. And then it all rushed back in: the cold argument outside, his fingers on my cheek, the near kisses that hovered like ghosts on my lips. I pushed the covers back slowly and sat up, his shirt brushing my thighs. I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling the scent of his shirt like a masochist. Padding into the hallway, I hesitated before entering the living room. His apartment was bathed in warm morning light, all glass and rich textures. Neutral tones, chrome edges, and a ridiculous number of art pieces that screamed money and masculine taste. It was minimalist, but not sterile like I'd expected. And then I saw him. Zane stood in the open-plan kitchen, shirtless again, his dark pajama pants riding low on his hips. He was barefoot, moving around li