Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Zoe
Morning finds me bleary-eyed and exhausted, standing in the kitchen and staring at the coffee machine like it might hold all the answers. Or at least the ones to the mess that is my current life.
“It works better if you actually press the button,” comes Dane’s dry voice from behind me.
I jump, turning to find him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He’s already dressed for the day in a crisp button-down and dark jeans, his pale eyes taking in my disheveled appearance with unnerving focus.
“I know how it works,” I mutter, turning back to the machine. “I’m just... contemplating.”
“The meaning of life via caffeine?”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Something like that.”
He moves into the kitchen, his steps silent despite his size. He reaches around me, his chest barely brushing my back, and presses a button on the machine. It hums to life, the rich scent of coffee filling the air.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping aside to give him space.
He shrugs, a barely perceptible lift of one shoulder. “Sleep okay?”
The question is casual, but there’s something in his tone that makes me look at him more closely. Does he know? Did he hear Rett outside my door last night?
“Fine,” I lie. “You?”
“Fine,” he echoes, and I’m almost certain he’s lying too.
The coffee machine finishes its cycle, and Dane reaches for a mug. Not just any mug. A sleek, black one with a simple geometric design. He fills it and hands it to me.
“That’s Rett’s favorite,” he says, his voice neutral. “The one no one else is allowed to touch.”
I stare at the mug in my hands. “Why are you giving it to me, then?”
His pale eyes meet mine, a hint of something I can’t quite read flickering in their depths. “Just an experiment.”
Before I can ask what kind of experiment, Diego enters the kitchen, already talking a mile a minute about the breakfast he’s planning. Dane steps back, giving me a final, inscrutable look before turning to help Diego retrieve ingredients from the fridge.
I retreat to the island, cradling the forbidden mug and wondering what game Dane is playing.
The kitchen fills quickly as the morning progresses.
Tristan appears next, beads of water sitting on his hair from the shower as he scrolls through his phone with a focus that suggests he’s already working despite the early hour.
He glances up, does a double-take at the mug in my hands, and his eyes widen comically.
“Is that—?” He points, looking genuinely shocked. “That’s Rett’s. He kills people for touching that.”
I take a sip, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Guess I’ll find out.”
Tristan’s mouth drops open, but before he can respond, the final member of our strange household appears in the doorway.
Rett looks... perfect. As always. His suit is impeccable, his hair styled, his expression composed. If I hadn’t felt that same, controlled mouth devouring me just hours ago, if I hadn’t heard his raw, triumphant roar as he came apart inside me, I would never believe he was the same man.
His eyes sweep the kitchen, taking in the scene with Diego at the stove, Dane leaning against the counter, Tristan frozen mid-gesture, before landing on me…and then on the mug in my hands.
The room goes silent. I can almost hear everyone holding their breath, waiting for his reaction. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve crossed some invisible line, breached some unspoken boundary.
But then his lips curve into a small, private smile. The kind that transforms his face, softening the hard lines into something almost boyish. “Morning,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Morning,” I reply, taking another sip from his mug, maintaining eye contact over the rim.
He moves to the coffee machine, grabbing a plain white mug that could belong to anyone, and fills it. Then he leans against the counter, his gaze never leaving mine as he drinks.
Tristan looks between us, his expression shifting from shock to suspicion to understanding. “Oh,” he says, drawing the word out. “I see how it is.”
I tear my gaze away from Rett, frowning at Tristan. “How what is?”
He just smirks, tapping the side of his nose. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He grabs an apple from the fruit bowl, taking a loud bite. “Just observing the fascinating dynamics of our little household.”
Diego rolls his eyes, flipping a pancake. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s much more perceptive than he actually is.”
“Excuse you,” Tristan protests around a mouthful of apple. “I’m incredibly perceptive. I’m like... a perception... person.”
“Eloquent as always,” Dane murmurs, earning a glare from Tristan.
I can’t help but smile at their bickering. It’s become so familiar.
My gaze drifts back to Rett, only to find him still watching me. There’s something in his eyes that makes it hard to breathe. A heat. A kind of hunger. And the memory of his mouth on mine, his hands on my skin, floods back with startling clarity.
“Plans for today?” Diego asks, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me. “Besides making Rett jealous with his mug?”
I blink, dragging my attention away from Rett. “Um, not much. Maybe catch up on some reading. See if I can help with the gallery investigation from here.”
“I have back-to-back meetings at the office,” Rett says, his tone clipped and professional, though his eyes are still fixed on me. “Tokyo conference call all morning.”
Diego and Tristan exchange a look I can’t quite interpret. “Both of us will be at the office as well,” Tristan says. “Board prep.”
“I’m working from here today,” Dane adds quietly, not looking up from his plate. “Coordinating with my security contacts. Reviewing footage.”
I nod, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at the thought of being alone in the penthouse with one of them all day. After last night, I’m not sure I should be alone with any of them.
“Well, don’t mind me,” I say, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “I’ll just be here. Reading. Like a normal person who doesn’t have a multi-million-dollar company to run.”
Tristan snorts. “Reading what? The back of cereal boxes?”
I stick my tongue out at him, a childish gesture that makes him laugh. “I’ll have you know I have plenty of books. Some of us actually read for pleasure.”
“Oh, I read for pleasure,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Romance novels, mostly. The steamier, the better.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I mutter, but I’m smiling despite myself.
Diego slides a bottle of maple syrup across the island toward me. “Don’t encourage him,” he says, but there’s a warm, easy humor in his eyes.
“Oh, she can encourage me anytime,” Tristan says, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive purr. His dark eyes meet mine, and the look in them is anything but platonic. “In fact, I insist.”
A hot blush crawls up my neck, and I take a large gulp of coffee, the heat scalding my tongue.
The air is suddenly thick, and I risk a glance up to find that all four of them are watching me. But it’s Rett’s expression that makes me swallow hard. In his eyes is a raw, stark, and deeply possessive hunger that mirrors Tristan’s own.
CLINK.
The sound of Rett’s heavy ceramic mug hitting the marble countertop is the only thing that breaks the spell.
“I have a meeting at nine,” he says, his voice a low, rough growl. “I need to go.”
That seems to be the signal. Tristan grabs another apple to go, his eyes still holding a spark of that earlier, wicked heat as he gives me a slow wink. “Don’t have too much fun without us,” he says, his voice a low purr meant only for me.
Diego just offers me a small, almost apologetic smile before he follows Tristan toward the door.
Rett is the last of the three to leave. He pauses at the door, his blue eyes finding mine.
“Zoe,” he says, my name a low rumble. “About last night...”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off, not ready to have that conversation, especially not in front of Dane. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
A flicker of something crosses his face before he masks it. “Alright,” he says, his voice all business again. “Call if you need anything.”
And then he’s gone.
The sound of the main door closing behind him echoes in the suddenly vast, quiet penthouse.
And then it’s just me and Dane. Alone.
He hasn’t moved, still leaning against the counter, his empty plate beside him. The silence stretches, but now it’s charged with a new awareness. He’s so... big. So still. It’s an entirely different kind of intimidation than Rett’s authority.
I clear my throat, needing to break the silence. “So,” I say, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “Security contacts, huh? Sounds... important.”
He finally looks at me, and his pale, ice-blue eyes are so direct, so focused, it feels like he can see right through me. “It is,” he says simply.
He pushes off the counter. “I’ll be in the east wing office if you need anything.” He starts to walk away, then pauses, looking back at me over his shoulder.
“The case files are... extensive,” he says, a hint of something I can’t quite decipher in his voice. “Another set of eyes might be useful. If you get bored with reading.”
He disappears down the hallway before I can respond, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my half-eaten pancakes and a head full of questions.
Was that... an invitation? From Dane?
I trace the rim of Rett’s mug with my finger, thinking about what Dane had said. An experiment. What was he testing? And more importantly, what did he learn?
The thought of spending the day with the quiet, intense alpha who seems to see everything... it’s not terrifying. Not exactly.
A slow, dangerous thrill snakes its way up my spine.
What the hell am I going to wear?