7. Forbidden Line

“Never chose me?” Elmy realized her voice was starting to shake. She swallowed hard and gave Sunny a faint smile. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted bitterly.

Sunny looked startled, clearly not expecting that response. She lowered her head again, nervously twisting her slender fingers. “I’m sorry, Elmy. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just—”

“I’m late,” Elmy cut in, unwilling to drag this drama out any longer. She grabbed her bag and walked away, ignoring Gianna calling after her to have breakfast.

Once inside her car, Elmy rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Sunny wasn’t wrong. In Zayne’s life, Elmy had never been a priority.

On the way to Abeforth—the company where she worked as a Creative Director—Elmy couldn’t focus on her work at all. Gianna’s and Sunny’s words haunted her all day. The designs submitted to her were left untouched. Her laptop screen stayed blank.

Elmy slumped over her desk, exhaustion written all over her face. Papers filled with patterns and clothing designs lay scattered, completely ignored.

“Elmy, are you okay? You’ve seemed distracted all day.” Becca came over and set down a cup of coffee—she’d lost count of how many by now. She studied Elmy carefully. “Is something wrong?”

Elmy took the cup and sipped it, then glanced at the wall clock—it was already past quitting time. She looked back up at Becca, who was still waiting for an answer. “I’m going to work late,” Elmy said with a forced smile. “You can go home, Becca.”

“You should do it tomorrow, El. You look…” Becca paused, her dark brown eyes assessing her. “…a mess.”

God, Elmy knew it too. She was a mess today, completely unproductive—distracted over nothing but Sunny’s words. But going home early and having to face Zayne wasn’t an option either.

Her mind settled on one plan: go home late. She was more afraid of running into Zayne than she was of being tired. Last night’s awkwardness had been suffocating, and she had no desire to relive it.

“I’ll go home after I finish checking all of this,” Elmy said, pointing at the piles of papers on her desk with her chin.

Becca hesitated. Elmy narrowed her eyes. “If we don’t finish this, Mr. Bram will chew us out. You want his spit flying all over your face?” she asked.

Becca shook her head quickly. “I’d rather be told to clean the toilets than listen to him rant.”

“Exactly. So let me handle this. You go home.” Elmy lifted her mug slightly. “Thanks for the coffee.”

After Becca left, Elmy forced herself to focus. Even though her back had gone stiff and the clock showed midnight, she kept reviewing the designs one by one.

At one in the morning, she finally let out a relieved breath and leaned back in her chair. “Hopefully Zayne is already asleep,” she murmured, then left the office.

But the hope she carried all the way home turned bitter.

The moment she stepped into the living room, her eyes met Zayne’s. He was still awake. Wearing pajamas, glasses on, focused on his laptop.

Elmy rubbed the back of her neck and walked closer. Zayne looked up, his gaze sharp and unwelcoming.

“You’re not asleep yet?” Elmy asked, just making small talk.

“What about you?” Zayne shot back bluntly. He crossed his arms, leaning against the sofa. “It’s past one. Were you working late… or avoiding me on purpose?”

Elmy opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped when she saw Zayne narrow his eyes at her. The next moment was even more surprising—Zayne stood up and walked toward her.

Instinctively, Elmy took a step back.

“You do remember Sebastian Abeforth is a close friend of mine,” Zayne said coldly. “I could easily ask why my wife has been working late so often.” He stepped closer. Elmy backed up again, trying to keep distance. Zayne pressed on. “The Seasonal Collection deadline is still months away, but—”

There was a brief pause before Elmy cut him off. “That’s my business!” Elmy snapped, instantly defensive. She stared into Zayne’s sharp eyes. “You’ve never cared about my work before. So why now… why are you suddenly acting like you care?”

Zayne closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath. “Because this isn’t like you.”

Elmy stayed silent, processing his words.

The distance between them disappeared as Zayne moved forward in long strides. Elmy stepped back, gasping when her back hit the wall. Her breath caught as she quickly lifted her hands to press against Zayne’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Elmy shouted, her face heating up.

“Making sure my wife doesn’t work late again tomorrow,” Zayne said. He pulled Elmy’s bag toward him and took out her phone. Elmy stared in shock as Zayne casually grabbed her hand and pressed her fingertip against the fingerprint sensor.

“What are you—”

Zayne stopped her with a gesture, silencing any protest. Elmy watched as he opened his contacts and called Sebastian at two in the morning.

“Zayne!” she protested.

Ignoring her, Zayne leaned in close and whispered, “Have I ever joked about my words, El?”

Elmy’s entire body froze. She went silent, unable to say anything—especially with how close he was. She could feel the warmth of Zayne’s breath against her face. Their eyes locked under the soft glow of the chandelier.

Elmy clenched her bag tightly as Zayne started speaking to Sebastian, who answered with a groggy groan.

“It’s me, Zayne.” Zayne never took his eyes off Elmy. Meanwhile, Elmy lowered her gaze to her heels. “I’ll get straight to the point, Bastian. If you want your collection properly promoted by my company, don’t make my wife work late every day.”

“Huh?” Sebastian exclaimed, faint through the phone.

“If my wife gets sick,” Zayne said flatly, “you can forget about media promotion for your winter collection.”

He ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket. Before Elmy could speak, Zayne moved swiftly and lifted her onto his shoulder.

Elmy was stunned. Her vision spun. The floor was no longer beneath her feet. Zayne’s large hand held her thigh firmly.

“Zayne, what—”

“If you don’t want everyone in the house to wake up because of your voice, you’d better stay quiet,” Zayne cut her off.

Inside the bedroom, Elmy was dropped onto the bed. Zayne quickly kicked off his shoes and, without warning, caged her in with both arms.

“Why are you doing this?” Elmy asked.

“Doing what?” Zayne replied, his face close to hers. “Doesn’t the contract clearly state that we have to act like husband and wife?”

“But—”

“I’m trying to follow it now,” Zayne interrupted, giving her no space to speak. “Or do you want me to fulfill my duties as a husband?” he whispered, his fingers beginning to pull aside Elmy’s dress.