2. Zara #2
“Yes,” I say in a daze, but the instant the word is out, I realize it’s a lie.
“Good luck then.”
Vian leaves me staring after him in the middle of the dance floor. For a moment, his back turned to me reminds me of the mystery guy from my dreams, but anger quickly replaces it.
Ignoring the fact that we’re in public, I march up to him. “You do not turn your back on me,” I say, my chest heaving with each breath.
He comes to an abrupt stop and spins around, setting those intense dark blue eyes on me like darts puncturing my chest, each leaving an ache.
“Zara.” He says my name with such despair it makes me even more confused.
I need some distance before I lose my mind.
This time, it’s me who turns my back on him. I move past the guests, bumping and apologizing as I make my way out and right into the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Gripping the sink, my head falls. I shake it, wanting to clear my troubled brain when the door bursts open, hitting the wall with a loud bang.
I know who it is without looking.
“If I am not to turn my back on you, then you never again turn your fucking back on me,” he growls, throat vibrating with the deep sound.
I lift my gaze and catch his ragged reflection in the mirror––his body, a sculpture of male strength, ripples with harsh breathing, the jacket’s button threatening to pop any second.
The custom-made suit enhances his exquisite physique.
He’s beyond handsome, even mad. He caught my attention from the very first moment I became a Syndicate associate.
“I need a moment,” I grit out.
He jerks his chin at me, pinning me down with an intense stare. “The moment is gone.”
“You’re rude and know no personal space.”
He shuts the door with a ring of finality and cuts the space between us. “The personal space you’re begging me to enter with your eyes?”
I gasp. “I––”
“Don’t make me call you out on your bullshit. You’re not that good at pretending.”
His audacity. This man drives me insane.
Nostrils flaring, I dig a finger into his chest. “I don’t even like you.”
“No? Then what is it?” He blows out a breath of annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I don’t fucking know,” I say, lifting my arms in the air to showcase my frustration.
“Find me once you do.” He yanks at the handle, about to leave.
Leave me. Something snaps in me. Panic coupled with deep-rooted pain overpowers me, and my mouth files for divorce from my brain, apparently granting it instantly, because I blurt out, “Marry me.”
I didn’t say that, did I? What the heck is wrong with me?
In slow motion, he closes the door, locking us in once again. He turns to me, and for minutes that feel like an eternity, he remains an unmoving mountain, staring at me in sheer incredulity and something akin to wonder. If it weren’t for his steady breathing, I would say he’s become a statue.
I am too damn petrified by what came out of my mouth to utter another word or retract my asinine proposition.
Slowly, as if not to scare me, he approaches me, yet I get dizzy, my vision blurring, and I support myself against the counter on my palms. Fainting is a viable possibility. With nerves rioting in my belly, throwing up is another.
“Repeat that.” His voice shakes, ending on a rasp.
I stare at the floor, urging it to crack open and swallow me whole. I am beyond mortified. “You heard me.”
I won’t repeat that ridiculous proposition. It was a lapse in judgment.
He reaches out his hand toward me but stops midair and shoves it in his pocket. Hardness slips back on his features. “You proposed marriage, Zara.”
My breath hitches. “Stop saying my name.” I shut my eyes for a moment. It feels too personal, stirring something deep inside me. It hurts.
“I can’t say your name, but you want to become my wife?”
“On paper.”
“Why would I?”
Right? And the traitor of my brain can’t come up with one good reason.
I wave a dismissive hand through the air. “Forget it.”
“It’s impossible to forget a marriage proposal as lackluster as that one was.”
A smile teases my lips. “It would be a mutually beneficial union.”
“For someone who wants me to forget about it, you’re quite in business mode.”
We bridge the space between us, getting closer as if there’s a gravitational pull drawing us in.
“You still have to pass my test.”
He lifts his hand, so maddeningly slowly, as if preparing me for his touch when I am dying for it. “Done. I want a child to carry on my legacy. And we move in together.”
My eyes widen. He surely knows what he wants, making me believe he planned it all along. “I won’t leave my home to move to Chicago.”
He grips my chin, his thumb caressing along my lips, which instantly tingle. “I am the capo, Zara. And you would love it there.”
His touch scatters my thoughts in a hundred directions, trapping me in a sensual web, making it almost impossible to string a coherent thought together. “That or a child.”
He smirks and, damn, it makes him look even hotter. “That, because your longing is evident. You’ll give me one because you want one to fill the hole. Because you’ve tried with work and it’s not enough.”
He’s too astute.
“You won’t be able to pass my men.” I shift on my feet, infusing as much confidence as possible. Something tells me that if this man wants something, nothing could stop him.
“Make it a hundred times more difficult. I will still find a way. But you’ll soon discover that.”
“As long as you don’t expect me to love you,” I say haughtily to mask my wayward emotions.
His eyes drain of light, giving me a glimpse into his empty soul. “Love ruined me for good a long time ago.”
His misery resonates with mine, but it’s one thing to share a similar experience and something completely different to share your life with another person.
“It’s not a good idea, Vian.”
His lips curl into a wolfish smile. “You won’t know when I am coming. But I will take you from your home and bring you to mine.”
I burst into laughter. “You believe you can overpower my men and seize me? Wow, your ego is huge. It’s a wonder it fits through the door.”
He leans into me and brushes his lips against my ear, causing goose bumps to dance on my skin. “Enjoy your freedom because once I have you, I will never let you go even if it fucking ends up killing us both.”
The threat sends a shiver down my spine. This proposal was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. He’s too intense. Too much.
“I changed my mind.”
He clicks his tongue, tsking. “Too late.”
He walks away, and I glance back at the mirror, thinking I am screwed.
I fumble in my clutch to retrieve my phone and call Conrad. “Increase the security, more men patrolling around the grounds. We’re on high alert.” Hanging up, my hands shake on the device.
He can’t get to me.
He can’t take me.
He can’t succeed.
Something tells me this man is not joking, and he won’t stop until he has me––all of me.
My heartbeat spikes and plunges, and I palm my chest to calm the erratic movement. What did I do? I ask myself as I stare at my reflection.
I’ve let the wolf in. That’s what the fuck I did.