chapter 14
Zloban
After dinner, I take her upstairs to her room, where her luggage has already been arranged. All her belongings are here—untouched. Everyone in this house is under strict orders never to disturb anything that belongs to her, and to keep everything spotless.
Our parents’ room remains locked and covered, only opened when they visit. But her room is never locked. I come here whenever I feel restless, and the mere sight of her things calms me.
She sits on her bed, picking up her yellow bear. Her lips curve into a faint smile. “It feels like I never left this room.”
Then she sets the bear down and rises. “But I’ll sleep in your room.”
My jaw tenses. I force myself to shake my head in a firm no. I can’t let her sleep near me. Not when all I want is to consume her.
“Okay,” she murmurs, her voice dimming with hurt.
Now this, this is what I can’t deal with. If she looks at me with those glassy, heartbroken eyes, how the fuck am I supposed to refuse her?
I move closer and run my hand through her silky hair. “Good night, Dove.”
She blinks at me. “I really can’t sleep in your room?”
I look toward the wall behind her, forcing myself to recall all the reasons I need to keep her at a distance.
“Just for tonight,” I finally concede. No reason is strong enough to let me see her sad.
She grins, and only now do I realize how much I’ve missed her smile. Watching her sink deeper into depression for so long has been killing me in the most excruciating way.
When I come out of the shower, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, I find her lying on her stomach, moving her face from one pillow to another, burying into each. I watch her repeat the act a few more times.
“What are you doing?”
Her head jerks up, a pink shade painting her cheeks. “Are you human or a ghost, Zoan? Why don’t you ever make a sound?”
She rolls onto her back, settling in the center of the bed.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching the redness deepen on her skin. Then I lie down beside her, facing her. She hasn’t left much space between us.
“Your pillows smell nice,” she whispers with a shy smile.
“How are you feeling?”
She shifts closer to me and wraps her arms around me. “Very good.”
My body stiffens as what is in front of my eyes merges with the images behind them.
She is in my bed, lying beside me, hugging me.
And now, the part of me I have never won control over is feeding me images of what I could do to her.
Her soft body is pressed so close. I clench my fist at my side, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her.
But then she moves even closer, snuggling her face into my chest.
I rise from the bed so fast that in the next heartbeat I’m standing on the floor.
She stares at me, shock and confusion written across her delicate features.
“I have some work. You go to sleep.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I turn away before she can utter a word. I leave the room as fast as I can.
Pressing my back against the closed door, I drag a hand through my hair. I need a fucking cold shower. Again.
When I finally return to my room past midnight, I find her fast asleep. One pillow is pressed against her face and chest, another tucked behind her, a third clutched between her creamy thighs. She’s wearing shorts that have ridden up, baring the long length of her legs.
I thought her uncovered body wouldn’t affect me much, I’ve been watching her for so long through the cameras, but I was completely wrong.
What I see on a screen is nothing compared to what I’m seeing now.
I could block the thoughts when it was just pixels and distance.
But now, with her here in flesh and blood, it’s impossible.
A cool breeze drifts in from the open window, making her curl even tighter around those damned pillows. I reach for the quilt and drape it over her frame.
Then I lower myself to the floor, my back pressed against the side of the bed. Resting my elbow on the edge, I support my head with my hand and let my eyes drink in her breathtaking features.
I am at so much peace when I’m near her, knowing she’s safe, sleeping in my bed. And yet, ironically, I have never been more restless, because she is near me.
Avira
I wake up with a smile on my lips. Hugging the pillow to my face, I rub against it, breathing in his scent before opening my eyes.
Sunlight cascades onto the bed through the open window. It’s always open. Zoan can’t sleep with windows closed, not even in winters.
I stretch lazily across the bed before sitting up. My eyes roam around his neatly arranged room. Everything is in perfect order, not a single thing out of place.
Curiosity gets the better of me, as I pull open the drawer beside the bed. For a moment, I wonder if he keeps condoms in here, like the men I’ve read about in books. Instead, I find a gun. And a strange-looking knife. I purse my lips. This man desperately needs a life.
On top of the side table, there’s only a book written in some foreign language. The worn cover and faded pages make it look like an ancient scripture.
I open the next drawer. This one isn’t filled with weapons or scriptures, but with doodles, pencils, coloring pens, hair ties, little cards.
My eyes widen as recognition strikes. They’re mine.
All of them. The silly little things I used to leave lying around in his room years ago. He has kept every single one.
I close the drawer quickly, a lump forming in my throat. My chest tightens with a mixture of emotions. He has always treated me like his real sister. In his eyes, I am family. He loves me, but as a sister. Whereas my love for him is anything but brotherly.
I slide off the bed, and that all-too-familiar tide of shame and guilt rises to consume me again.
Yesterday I witnessed what I read in psychology, that the frontal cortex slows down when exhaustion takes over.
Last night I was too tired to think about the rationality of my feelings, too tired to push them away.
So I surrendered. I let myself enjoy his presence, his smell, his warmth.
For once, I slept happily, believing I had everything I wanted.
I got permission to live with him. I got what I had been aching for.
But I forgot, the problem was never the distance. The problem is my love for him. My need of staying forever in his arms. Living near him changes nothing. If anything, it will only make living harder.
After bathing, I head downstairs. July serves my breakfast.
“Where is Zoan?” I ask.
“Mr. Bennett is in his study,” she replies.
I nod.
I’m almost finished eating when I hear steady footsteps behind me. I know it’s him. Without footwear, he moves in complete silence. With shoes, his stride carries a perfectly balanced rhythm.
He reaches me and, without a word, takes my chin between his fingers, tilting my face to the side. His eyes search mine with a deep frown, studying me for a few heavy beats before he lets go and takes hold of my hand.
I rise from the chair silently and walk beside him to the living room. He makes me sit on the couch, then sits beside me, close enough for his presence to press on every nerve in my body.
“What’s bothering you, Dove?” His voice is tired.
“Nothing. Everything is fine.” I force a smile.
His eyes sharpen. “Don’t force a smile. Tell me honestly what’s troubling you.”
I glance around the room, reminding myself that I am a happy girl. I have loving parents, doting grandparents, cousins. I am happy.
A more genuine smile tugs at my lips. “I just slept on the wrong side, so I’m a little grumpy.”
His brows draw tighter together, his voice turning cold. “Don’t lie to me, Dove.”
“I’m not li—”
“Yes, you are fucking lying. You woke up with a smile, that same smile stayed on your face until you opened my drawers. And then you got lost in your head.”
I stare at him, stunned, my mouth parted. I’m more shocked by his shouting than by his words. This is the first time. I have never heard Zoan raise his voice. No one has.
“How… how do you know this?” I whisper.
“I was watching you.”
“You were in the room?” My horror deepens. There’s no way I could miss a 6’4” man standing inside his own bedroom.
He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “There are cameras in my room.”
My eyes widen. “Oh. Wait, why the hell do you have cameras in your room?”
“For security reasons.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Now answer my question. Because neither of us is leaving this couch until you tell me what’s wrong with you.”
All my sadness, guilt, shame, everything evaporates, replaced by fear. He can’t know. If he keeps watching me with that piercing intensity, I’ll forget in minutes that I’m supposed to hide the truth, that I’m in love with him.
I wet my lips, forcing words past the dryness in my throat. “More than eighty percent of people in this country are diagnosed with depression. It’s not necessary that every single one of them has a specific reason behind it. I’m just… not feeling very happy. I don’t think there’s a reason.”
His jaw hardens. “All those people have very valid reasons for their depression. It’s not some flu you caught from your neighbor. And I can see—very clearly—how you’re trying to act clever with me.”
I purse my lips. “Fine. Since you can see through my lies, let me tell you the truth. And the truth is, I’m never going to tell you, or anyone else, what my problem is.”
I get up from the couch. “I will figure out a solution soon.”
I turn to leave but end up sitting on a hard surface, which is Zoan’s thighs.
My breath sticks in my throat when he locks his arms around me. Does he know no brother does such things with his sister, or should I tell him that? But why would I, when I’m having my dream moment here?
“I told you, we are not leaving this couch until you tell me your problem.”
Dream moment apart, I’m now fully frustrated.
“You are my problem, Zoan,” I voice out my frustration, looking straight into his icy eyes. God could not have been more creative, He gave him eyes according to his personality.
My frustration blurs into admiration for his perfect features. And soon after, my heart picks the proximity as a clue, beating louder. The fear of being exposed turns into something very, very wrong when my eyes slide down to his lips.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” he mutters thickly.
I shift my gaze up. The black of his pupils has expanded, bleeding into the cold territory of ice.
Zloban
Her problem is me.
She is crushing under the weight of her feelings for me.
It was always there, right in front of my eyes, yet I never saw it, or maybe I never wanted to see.
I ignored her jealousy over rumors. I ignored the way she used to shine and smile when I visited her, and how heartbroken she looked when I left after only a few hours.
I ignored her searching my name on the internet ten times a day. I ignored her watching me.
Because I never wanted her to want me.
And I thought it wouldn’t happen as long as I didn’t acknowledge it, as long as I didn’t give her feelings any fuel. But it happened. The small flame has grown into a raging inferno burning in her amber eyes.
I could live my whole life with this obsession.
But she won’t survive it. We can’t have a future together.
I’m Alexander Bennett’s son, for the whole world, including him.
I can never have his daughter. He would become a laughingstock in the eyes of the entire world.
Not many people know about his daughter’s existence, but those who do are more than enough to drag his name through the mud.
And I can’t let that happen to the man who gave me this life.
But above all, she must never be made to suffer that hell. I will not let it happen.
I let go of her waist. She rises from my thighs, her face flushed.
“I hope I’m not disturbing something important,” Leo’s voice comes from the entrance of the living room.
He steps inside. Avira walks to him and hugs him. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” His voice carries a surprisingly light mood.
He sits beside me. Avira settles on the side couch, her eyes never leaving me. I’m drowning in her attention. As much as it makes me feel alive, it kills me with equal intensity.
Leo watches me with a smirk I want to wipe off his face.
He turns his head toward Avira. “When did you come, Avi?”
“Last night. Didn’t Zoan tell you? I thought you guys inform each other even before you go take a dump.”
He laughs. “Why the hostility toward me?” He glances at me. “Your Zoan doesn’t love me more.”
I grit my teeth.
“For how long are you staying here?” he asks her.
She points her chin toward me. “Ask him.”
The bastard grins. “Oh, he would love to keep you here forever.”
“The Russian shareholder you were tracking came back to America last week. I saw news of her meeting other investors.”
His head snaps toward me. Now it’s my turn to smirk.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you weren’t interested, so I didn’t bother.”
Avira rises from the couch. “You guys talk about your boring business. I’m going upstairs.”
Once she leaves, I drive my fist into Leo’s stomach. He doubles over before straightening and slamming a punch into my chest. “Hitting you is so damn useless.” He grits.
“You knew what she feels for me,” I grunt.
“Like you knew she came back to America,” he spits back.
“You were the one claiming not to give a shit,” I state coldly.
He leans back. “Like you were ignoring the elephant in the room.”
I glare at him. He glares back.
“She can’t love me,” I tell him.
“You can’t decide that for her.”
“She’s not taking this well, Leo. I need to make her feelings disappear.”
He smirks. “I would love to watch your ruin once she starts hating you. But I can bet you won’t even survive the process.”
I hate how right he is. I’ll have to hurt her again and again until she begins to hate me.
“I’ll die before hurting her. But she’s hurting even now.” I press my head into my hands.
Leo grips my shoulder. “I have an idea.”
I look at him.
“Why don’t you help her fall for someone else?”
My vision floods red. Visuals of blood spilling, of fire consuming everything in my way, flicker before my eyes. I swing my hand to punch him again, but he blocks it.
He rises from the couch, rubbing his palm with a frown. “You could’ve caused serious damage to my intestines, man.”
“But this is the only way. Think about it,” he says before leaving.
How the fuck am I supposed to think about it? The mere surface of this bloody idea is enough to lacerate my soul.