"."
The word settled between us, heavy and irrevocable.
Zane whitmore looked at like he was seeing for the first ti.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that whatever happened next, there was no turning back.
Zane didn’t answer right away.
He leaned back against the booth, one arm resting along the leather, his posture loose in a way that felt intentional. Like he wanted to notice how little effort he was using to hold the situation.
I didn’t move either.
The distance between us stayed exactly where I’d put it.
"You’re confident," he said finally.
" you can say that ," I replied with indifference.
He watched for a long mont, eyes unreadable. I could feel the weight of his attention, the kind that made you aware of every word you were about to say before you said it.
"I didn’t co here for you," he said.
My jaw tightened. "No. You ca for her."
"Yes."
"And you thought a nightclub was an appropriate place to start?"
His mouth curved slightly. Not a smile. More like acknowledgnt. "She agreed to et."
"She didn’t agree to be evaluated."
"She knew it was a date."
I let out a quiet breath through my nose. "You know exactly what I an."
He tilted his head. "Then say it plainly."
I t his gaze. "She doesn’t belong in your world."
Sothing flickered in his eyes. Annoyance, maybe. Or interest. Hard to tell.
"And you do?" he asked.
Inside, my heart started racing. Every story I’d ever heard about him rose up at once. n disappearing. Deals gone wrong. The quiet understanding that Zane Whitmore didn’t need to raise his voice to end soone.
He could end within a single thought.
And my grandfather wouldn’t lift a finger fast enough to matter.
But I didn’t look away.
"Yes," I said.
He studied like he was peeling sothing back layer by layer. "You’re not afraid of ."
I almost laughed.
"I am," I said honestly. "That’s why I’m still sitting here."
That seed to amuse him.
"Most people mistake fear for obedience," he said.
"And most powerful n mistake fear for respect," I shot back.
His brow lifted slightly. "Careful."
"I am being careful," I replied. "Careful not to let my cousin walk into sothing she can’t survive."
He leaned forward now, forearms resting on his knees. The movent was subtle but deliberate. The space between us shrank just enough to remind who I was dealing with.
"I want Ivy," he said. "She’s the one your grandfather offered. She’s the one I agreed to et. And she’s the one I’ll get."
The certainty in his voice made my stomach drop.
I kept my hands still in my lap. "You don’t need her."
"That’s not your decision."
"No," I said quietly. "But it is my responsibility as her sister to protect her."
He let out a short breath. "You’re asking to change the terms of an agreent because you feel protective."
"I’m telling you the agreent will fail if you don’t."
That earned a faint smile. "You assu I care whether it succeeds emotionally."
I leaned back slightly, reclaiming space. "I assu you care about control."
His gaze sharpened.
"Go on."
I said. "She’ll shrink. She’ll disappear inside whatever role you expect her to play. And eventually, she’ll break. Quietly. Publicly. It won’t matter. That kind of damage always shows."
"And you think you won’t?" he asked.
I swallowed.
"I know how to survive n like you."
His expression didn’t change, but the air shifted. He was paying attention now in a way that felt dangerous.
"You think this is survival?" he asked. "Offering yourself like a substitute?"
"I think it’s leverage," I said. "And you respect leverage."
Silence stretched between us.
I could hear the muffled music from downstairs, laughter bleeding faintly through the walls. The night carried on, completely unaware of how close I was to sothing I might not be able to undo.
Zane straightened.
"No," he said.
The word was flat. Final.
My chest tightened. "No?"
"I won’t switch," he continued. "I don’t take replacents. I don’t respond to emotional appeals. And I don’t reward interference."
I nodded slowly, forcing my breathing to stay even. "So that’s it?."
"That’s it."
I stood.
The floor felt steadier than I expected. Or maybe I’d gone numb.
"I fucking hate you." I said to him at loss at what else to tell him.
He looked up at . " I don’t care"
I turned to leave.
That was when a sound cracked through the building.
A gunshot. Clear as day, you’d be a fool to not recognize the sound.
User Comments
0 comments from readers