Chapter 31
Iwake up twisted in soaked sheets.
I haven’t dreamt about that last day with Daniel in months, but the stress of knowing I’ll be in a room with him again must have triggered something in me. I lay panting, trying to shrug the nightmare and the sweat off me.
I’ve lived through him raping me once. Why must my subconscious make me relive it over and over again? It’s fucking unfair.
I kick off my covers and take a cold shower. Today will be fine. I won’t be alone with Daniel. Zayn will be with me.
Zayn.
I told him not to come over last night, knowing I wouldn’t be in a great headspace. He respected my wishes even though I could tell he wanted to fight me on it.
It’s been three days since we’ve seen each other, and I can admit to myself that I really miss him.
I wish I wasn’t seeing him again in the presence of Daniel.
It starts to sink in now that Zayn and Daniel know each other.
Surely Daniel won’t recognise Zayn when even I didn’t?
I can only imagine what he would have to say about Zayn being the one to represent me in our divorce when he was a continuous sore spot for Daniel throughout our marriage, even though Zayn was long gone by then.
I think we both knew, deep down, that Daniel wasn’t my first choice.
I dress modestly for the meeting in jeans, a coat and high-heeled ankle-boots and arrive at Zayn’s office twenty minutes earlier than expected.
I also receive an unexpected, unwanted surprise when I walk into his space. Although, judging by how quickly Scabby sent me back here, I should have known what was awaiting me.
Zayn is nowhere to be found, but Monica is perched on the edge of his desk looking way too comfortable in a tight pencil skirt and white blouse, shuffling through papers like she’s done it from this position a hundred times before.
Her eyes widen when she glances up and sees that it’s me who’s come in, not Zayn. “Hi, Gianna,” she says, stumbling her papers, but then she recovers quickly. “Nice to see you again.”
She has the decency to slip off Zayn’s desk and into one of the soft leather chairs instead, but not enough to stay off his desk in the first place.
“Where’s Zayn?” I ask, fighting the urge to take all my building frustration out on her, no matter how badly I want to. My morning was already looking to be shit enough without having to walk in on my boyfriend’s ex fuck-buddy with her ass on his desk.
“He popped out about ten minutes ago.”
“Right,” I say, folding my arms. “And when will he back back?”
She eyes me carefully. “He didn’t say.”
I take the chair next to Monica and we sit in awkward silence. Monica shifts in her seat, and I swear she goes to open her mouth a few times to speak, but each time decides against it.
I pull out my phone and busy myself with it, not helping to make the situation any less awkward. If she wants to say something, then she should just say it.
I guess she eventually draws the same conclusion.
“Zayn told me that you and him are together,”she says speculatively, like she’s waiting for me to deny it again like I did at the law awards.
When I turn, it’s to see her curious face appraising me, and I just know she’s trying to determine what I could possibly have that she doesn’t. I’ve been wondering the same thing.
“Yes, we are now. And I would appreciate you keeping it professional between you two.”
She knows I’m referring to where she chooses to plant her ass in Zayn’s office, and a red stain spreads across her cheeks. I may have told her last week that we weren’t together, but Zayn clearly corrected her since then and she chose to ignore him.
“He always told me he never wanted commitment,” she says in a low voice, averting her gaze. She clears her throat and busies her hands with her documents. “I assumed he meant at all, not just with me.”
Despite my feelings toward Monica, my heart takes a dive at the hurt that laces her words. I know what it’s like to be in love with Zayn but not able to have him. I’d lived with that pain for ten years. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.
“We have a lot of history. It’s hard to compete with that,” I say gently, even though this woman is, technically, trying to get with my boyfriend. “Like you said, it’s hard to get over your first love. I guess neither Zayn or I ever did.”
She nods to herself and picks up her pen, and I sit with the uncomfortableness of knowing that for the foreseeable future, Zayn and Monica will be working alongside each other and I don’t know how to feel about that.
Glancing around Zayn’s office with a sigh, my gaze lands on something else I didn’t notice when I walked in. The mug I bought him from the markets. For a moment, I’m shocked that he actually brought it into work. Then, a warm feeling dribbles into my chest and wraps around my heart.
Zayn’s showed me countless times since he’s returned that he cares about me. Sure, it’s scary to put my heart on the line again, but I need to trust him if this is going to work between us. And I want that more than anything.
I’m smiling to myself when the door opens behind us and Monica and I both spin around to watch Zayn stride in.
Instantly, it’s as though all the air gets sucked out of the room.
His presence is devastation and exhilaration rolled into one, and honestly, I can’t blame Monica for wanting him when he looks like he should be modelling his suit somewhere on a runway.
Despite the conversation we just had, I notice Monica still sits up straighter and flicks her hair over her shoulder a little provocatively at his arrival, and any pity I had for her gets exorcised from my body like a demon.
“What are you still doing in here?” Zayn surprises me by addressing her with such apathy I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. “I told you our meeting was over.”
“I have some further questions about the Clive-”
Zayn tosses a file down onto his desk, effectively cutting her off. “Then I question your competence for the job. I answered all your questions earlier, now please leave so I can speak to my girlfriend in private.”
Silence rings around the office as Monica collects her things, sending me one last assessing look before hightailing it out of Zayn’s office. She shuts the door behind her.
“Are you okay?”
I’m not sure if Zayn’s referring to Monica, Daniel, or both.
No, I’m not okay. I’m about to be in the same room as my estranged husband and rapist and your ex fuck buddy was just sitting on your desk like she was lunch.
“I’m fine.”
Zayn leans back against his desk and folds his arms across his chest, levelling his narrowed gaze on me. “Let’s cut the bullshit and try that again.”
My irrational side speaks before I can stop it. “Monica still wants you.”
My words settle heavy in the air between us.
It’s a non-question that I want to hear his response to. I look from the artwork on the wall to the silly mug on his desk, anywhere but Zayn’s face, even though I can feel him watching me closely.
“Even if that were true, it’s a non-issue. I only want you.”
The conviction in his words is unwavering. I swallow, then force myself to take a calming breath. I need to let the Monica thing go. I’ve decided to trust Zayn, so now I need to follow through with that.
Seconds tick by in silence. I look down at my hands.
“Is there a chance I lose my apartment to Daniel?” I ask, wanting to change the subject away from Monica. Who would have ever thought Daniel would be considered a safer topic of conversation for me?
“No.”
“You’re overly confident,” I say, finally looking up into his dark eyes. The easy confidence that stares back at me helps soothe my nerves. Still, I add, “There must be at least a tiny chance. Nothing is ever guaranteed.”
“If there is, it’s so tiny you can’t even see it.”
“That’s what she said.” I can’t help the smile that pulls across my lips. Zayn cocks an amused brow.
“Are you really making dick jokes right now?”
My heart flutters as he pushes off his desk and stalks towards me.
“Seems that three days apart has messed with your memory. Perhaps you need a little reminder of how not tiny some things really are.”
Warmth spreads through my body as his palm cups my cheek and he brings his lips down to mine in a soft, hungry kiss. Will I ever stop feeling like a giddy teenager every time he kisses me?
I doubt it.
But before he can remind me of anything, Scabby’s voice bursts out of his office phone speaker and cuts through the desire-filled haze surrounding us. “Mr Sanders and his council have arrived.”
Dread drops into the pit of my stomach like an anchor trying to weigh me down, but when we reluctantly pull apart and head out together to meet my husband, I can’t help but marvel at the fact that, for a moment, Zayn made me forget the meeting was even happening at all.
“This ends one of two ways,” Zayn drawls dryly, leaning back in his chair as though he’s discussing the weather with a friend and not my future livelihood.
It’s become obvious to me in the last five minutes alone how he’s built his ruthless reputation in the court room.
He doesn’t debate, or discuss, he merely tells his opponents what they’re going to do, demanding their attention the second he enters the room.
“Option A you sign off now on my client taking the apartment, or option B we go to court and instead she takes the apartment, three million dollars in cash and…” He checks his notes casually. “A Range Rover.”
Daniel’s been watching me incessantly from across the long glass table since I stepped inside the massive conference room, where I found him and his counsel already seated.
Now, his ice-blue eyes are expressionless as he glosses over Zayn’s words like he didn’t even hear them.
I squirm in my seat under his cold scrutiny, and a hint of a smile pulls on his lips.
He would just love to know that he’s making me uncomfortable.
Asshole.