chapter 21
Avira
Mama and Daddy leave for DC, and I pack my things to leave for New York.
And of course, my security is top priority for a certain someone, so he is coming with me.
I have refused to look at or speak to him since that night, a week ago.
And with the effort it would take him to move his mouth, he doesn’t even try.
I have a feeling that if I don’t speak, he won’t speak for a lifetime.
I’ve thought thoroughly about our situation.
He loves me, and I can be a brat, but I can’t ignore it, because it stands out like a lone green tree in an empty desert.
And yes, the desert here is Zoan’s heart.
Everyone knows he loves me intensely, but they all assume it’s brotherly love.
I had no reason to think differently either.
But now I know, and I am both happy and angry, in equal measure.
I have a very big issue with him taking decisions for me. He has been doing it forever, but this is one matter in which I will not allow him control, because, let’s be honest, Zloban knows nothing when it comes to matters of the heart.
He never says anything he doesn’t believe in completely. When he has doubts, he stays silent, withholding his opinions. And what he strongly believes, without a shred of uncertainty, is that I could fall in love with someone else.
The second issue I have with the man sitting beside me is that he thinks I won’t be able to survive the consequences.
I hate it, because he’s right. I know too well what those consequences are: number one, disappointing my parents; number two, the guilt of putting them in a situation where they have to face people talking badly about our family; and number three, hearing people whisper about us in ways that aren’t so kind.
But I’m perfectly fine with the alternative.
I’ve already reshaped all my daydreams, from becoming his wife and building a happy family with him, to becoming his secret lover, carrying his children in silence.
I’ve even made plans for how I’ll explain my pregnancies.
We could live like that for the rest of our lives.
I know people will start whispering and speculating when neither of us marries, but honestly, in this century, no one truly gives a damn about singles, at worst, there will be gossip, and gossip fades.
I shoot him a sideways glare. This man almost shot my date simply because I was enjoying myself, and then he has the audacity to sit at the dinner table the next day and announce that Roxion wants to take me on more dates.
Like, wow. Can he not see how much of a hypocrite he is?
I don’t think so. But that’s fine. I’m here to show him exactly that.
I’ll go on every single date with Roxion, because I know for certain Zoan won’t be able to stand seeing me happy with another man.
And I am going to look very, very happy.
It won’t even be difficult. Being a natural grinner, it doesn’t take me a second to flash a smile when someone smiles at me first.
Our chopper lands on the roof of Leo’s penthouse, the building he owns outright. Zoan presses a code and opens the rooftop gate. We descend the narrow stairs. At the bottom, he enters another code on another door.
The question—How do you know all these codes?—rises to the tip of my tongue. But I run my tongue across my lips and seal my mouth shut. I’m not breaking my silent treatment for such a stupid question.
The door opens, and we step into a massive apartment, floor-to-ceiling smart glass windows line the walls, offering a panoramic view of New York City’s skyline.
I give myself a private tour of the breathtaking space. I open the room downstairs, it doesn’t look too frequently used. I close it and climb the stairs. Upstairs, there are three rooms.
The first one is huge, clearly the master bedroom, with a faint Leo vibe radiating from its luxurious yet functional design.
I close the door and open the next one. This room is stark, minimalistic, furnished only with what is absolutely necessary, each item placed with such precision it borders on obsession.
I don’t need anyone to tell me, this is Zoan’s room.
The fact that he has a personal room here confirms he has spent considerable time in this penthouse.
I close the door with a slight snap of aggression, I realize I’m mad at everything associated with him.
The third room is across from the master bedroom, adjacent to Zoan’s room. It’s already open. I peek inside, it’s a cozy, intimate space. Perfect. I’ll stay here.
When I return to the living room-kitchen area, Zoan is leaning against the kitchen island, watching me roam while sipping a soda tea that Leo made himself. The teas made by him are famous among the men in our family.
“This place is so beautiful,” I tell him, my voice brimming with excitement.
He gives me a smile that sends butterflies fluttering through my stomach. Now that I know he feels the same, the effect of such a simple gesture is like a rush of pure ecstasy.
I look away from him, reminding myself that I’m mad at him, but the butterflies in my stomach don’t get the memo.
Even when I avert my gaze, I can feel him watching me, the same way I’ve noticed over the years but never examined closely.
He observes me in deliberate blinks, long intervals between each one, with a focus that seems like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.
And now, it’s making my palms sweat, my pulse quicken, and an unwelcome heat rise across my face and neck.
I turn around, hoping he won’t witness any of my reactions. But I doubt he hasn’t already noticed them all.
The penthouse door opens again, and a man enters, flanked by a humanoid robot carrying my luggage.
He greets Zoan. “Good evening, sir.”
Zoan nods. “Good evening, Viki.”
Viki then turns toward me. “Good evening, Miss Bennett. I’m Viki Anderia, the concierge of this residence.”
I smile. “Good evening, Viki. I’ll be staying in the room upstairs.”
He nods and signals the robot to follow him.
I follow both of them. Once the robot places the bags inside the closet, it departs with Viki. I open my bag and begin arranging my clothes.
Once I’m done, I set the bag aside, pick up another one containing my devices, and step out of the closet.
After taking a long, refreshing shower, I change into my pajamas and make my way downstairs. Leo has returned, and he and Zoan are in the kitchen.
Zoan is cooking while Leo assists him. They always look like soulmates. Thank God they’re both straight, it makes my life infinitely easier.
I reach them and give Leo a hug. He hugs me back, but he’s more focused on handing Zoan some pepper.
Leo doesn’t ask, just takes it and sprinkles it into the pan.
I purse my lips and pull away, watching both of them.
They move with such seamless harmony in silence that it feels like they’ve been cooking together for ages.
“How do you know, Leo, that he needs that ingredient you’re giving him?” I ask.
He leaves Zoan to his gadgets and walks over toward me. I follow him to the couches. He sits down, and I take a seat beside him.
“Pa taught us cooking first,” he begins.
“Then he used to keep us silent, giving control of the pan to one and the ingredients to the other. We developed subtle signals only we could see and understand so Pa wouldn’t catch us.
Later, we realized that was exactly what he intended.
He did this with all our day-to-day activities. ”
“Wow. Pa is so cool.”
Zoan returns with the food. It’s been forever since I’ve eaten a meal cooked by him. The aroma alone makes my mouth water.
He gives me my bowl, it has simple vegetables paired with quinoa.
I place a few chopsticks’ worth in my mouth, letting the juiciness and flavors fuse in an explosion on my palate. “It’s so delicious,” I say, speaking with a full mouth. A few particles escape in the process.
Leo points his chopsticks at me. “No one will find you attractive with those table manners. Marco especially.”
I roll my eyes. “Marco likes me already.”
He smirks, glancing toward Zoan, who remains completely indifferent. I don’t like that neutral expression on his face.
“And if he doesn’t like something about me, I’ll change it for him,” I tell Leo, my smile becoming more genuine as the coldness in those particular ice-blue eyes surpasses the freezing point.
Leo laughs, shaking his head.
I finish the rest of the delicious meal in a cheerful mood.
After dinner, Leo asks, “Are you in contact with Iselyn?”
I nod.
He leans back on the couch. “Kaz said she’s also in New York. If you want, you could go meet her,” he says casually.
Then I hear a sound as rare as witnessing a supernova from Earth. Zoan is chuckling. But before I can fully see him, it disappears, leaving only a mocking smile behind, directed squarely at Leo.
Leo speaks calmly, ignoring Zoan entirely.
“Let me know if you want to meet her tomorrow. I’m free, so I can take you there.”
“Be ready. I’ll go see her. How far is she?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. You could ask her.”
I nod. My eyes drift to Zoan again, who is still smiling. What’s so comical here?