Chapter 8: Ghosts Behind Doors

I slapped Zane. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to turn his head slightly. His jaw flexed, but when he looked back at me, there was no anger. Something worse brimmed in his eyes.

He stepped closer. I backed into the wall before I even realized I’d moved. His palm came to rest flat beside my head, caging me in. “You can hit me again if it helps,” he murmured. “But we both know this—” his body brushed against mine, his breath warm against my neck “—was never just business.”

“You’re marrying her,” I hissed, my breath shallow.

“Am I?” His lips hovered near mine like the ghost of a kiss.

“You don’t remember me,” I challenged, voice cracking, “but you want to kiss me?”

He leaned in, mouth grazing my jaw. “Then maybe you should stop looking at me like you remember what I taste like.”

My hands fisted at my sides. One more second, one more inch, and I’d lose the last shred of control I had. “I am not. I do not.”

He dragged a finger across my lips, watching as I shivered to his touch. Then he tilted his head, smirking. “You seem even more aroused than I am.”

“You’re cruel,” I said, breathless.

His lips barely grazed the shell of my ear. “You’re addictive.”

Then just like that, he pulled away back to the calm, infuriating mask he put on for everyone. “You have a wedding to plan,” he said, returning to his desk. “Mr. Wade is stuck on using the main ballroom for the event. Perhaps you could persuade him to favor the rooftop garden.”

My legs shook as I turned to leave, rage and desire warring in my veins. “You are sick in the head,” I told him, my voice trembling.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

##

I did prefer the rooftop garden for the wedding, though.

The main ballroom was already being prepared for the wedding. However, the rooftop garden  was more private, more intimate, yet just as luxurious and beautiful looking as the main ballroom. So, after leaving Zane’s office and cooling off, I presented the offer to Mr. Wade with an overly cheerful smile. Before I got the words out, he scoffed.

“Too risky,” he snarled. “Too open. The couple won’t like it. Stick to the main hall. This isn’t a picnic.”

“True,” I said, a bit stung at his tone. “It’s not a picnic. It’s a wedding. Rooftop gardens are a dream for weddings. And this one is more than an open space. It has wedding covers, elevator access, and half the cost of transforming the ballroom. Contrary to your opinion, Mr. Wade, the couple would love it.”

Mr. Wade sneered. “Ms. Ibe, I have managed Mr. Blackwood’s affairs for years.”

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. He may be good at his job, but I’m also good at mine. I appreciated his input, but I was a wedding planner for a reason. “We’re talking about the live Mr. Blackwood, not the dead one. Just because you knew his father in and out doesn’t mean you know Zane.”

“And whar do you know about ‘Zane'? Kindly defer to those who know the family’s preferences.”

My jaw clenched. “Then perhaps Mr. Blackwood should speak for himself.”

On cue, Zane stepped into the room. He was wearing all black and his hair was neatly combed. In with him came a presence, like he owned gravity. My body shook with desire upon seeing him. He looked at me then Mr. Wade then me.

“What’s the problem?” Zane asked, his voice low.

“Ms. Ibe wants to drag your ceremony to the jungle upstairs.”

Zane kept his eyes on me. “Let her. If she says the garden is the best, then it’s the best.”

“But-" countered Mr. Wade

“Let her,” Zane repeated.

I was stunned. Not just because he defended me, but because of the way he said it. Almost as if I still mattered to him. As if he still trusted my judgement.

Putting on a sweet smile, I turned to Zane. “Mr. Blackwood, we were also finalizing floral arrangements.”

Zane tilted his head slightly. “Sounds exciting.”

Mr. Wade sneered at me. “You suggested white orchids for the centerpieces?”

“They represent elegance and rare beauty. The more minimal the design is, the better. It will complement the theme of the wedding.”

“Too sterile,” Mr. Wade sniffed.

“The bride specifically asked for them,” I added. I looked at Zane. He was strangely silent, eyes darting between me and Mr. Wade.  “Mr. Blackwood?”

Zane studied me for a while. “Surprise me,” he finally said.

My heart jumped. His gaze caused goosebumps to appear on my skin. “Very well.”

“I must reiterate,” Mr. Wade started, “that the evening ambiance needs-"

Zane cut him off. “Mr. Wade, I hired Ms. ibe for a reason. If I wanted someone to micromanage her, I would’ve hired you.”

Mr. Wade opened his mouth, but seeing the firm look on Zane’s face, he quickly shut it. Nodding, he took a step back.

My heart was jumping with glee. “Anything else?” I asked Zane.

He shook his head slightly, eyes still on me. “You have everything under control.”

I knew it was a small win, but I did feel good. Later on, it unsettled me a bit. Zane didn’t remember me, yet he defended me. Was it just business? Was that him being kind to a near stranger? Was there something more? It didn’t seem like it was just professional. Not when his eyes lingered on me like that. Not when his voice sounded like that. Not when he touched me like that.

##

I walked towards the corridor leading toward the groom’s quarters which was dimmer and less polished. It was where the hotel stored extra chairs, crates of bottled champagne. At that very moment, behind one half-closed door, there were two familiar voices arguing. They were whispering, but their voices leaked through the open doors.

I knew I should’ve turned back. I knew eavesdropping was wrong. But I couldn’t help it.

“I told you hiring her was a mistake,” Mr. Wade snapped. His voice was low, like he was trying not to be overheard. “She doesn’t belong here.”

“She’s the best,” Sera’s voice replied. I’d recognize that icy sharpness anywhere. “And because she won’t dare do anything reckless with me watching.”

My breath caught. I remained frozen in place. Were they talking about me?

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“She’s not a threat,” Sera said dismissively. “Not anymore.”

My blood ran cold. What were they trying to protect Zane from? Me?

“I told you she’s already suspicious,” Mr. Wade said.

“Then keep her busy,” Sera snapped. “We can’t have her digging around. Not now.”

Suspicious? Digging? My chest tightened. I should have walked away. I should have pretended I never heard a thing. But I didn’t. I needed to hear more. I was sure they were talking about me.

“She won’t stop until she gets answers,” Wade muttered. “She’s already asking questions about the past.”

“She’ll only find what we want her to,” Sera said with cool certainty. “Just make sure she doesn’t remember what’s best left buried.”

My breath hitched.

“Zane doesn’t even remember her,” Wade added after a pause, “and that’s the only thing that’s saving us.”

All this time, I thought the rumors were false. That Zane was only pretending. But hearing this from Mr. Wade… Zane really didn’t remember me?

I took a shaky step back, the hallway tilting slightly beneath me. I must’ve made a sound, because suddenly the door creaked wider and Sera poked out her head.

“Hello?” she questioned. “Who is out there?”