8. Zack
Chapter 8
Zack
I pace back and forth in the vast halls of my mansion, my footsteps echoing off the marble floors. Bianca’s scent still lingers here, tormenting me. How could I have been so stupid in front of that reporter? I’ve sent her a thousand texts, but she won’t answer.
I glance up at the clock, impatience boiling inside me. Five days of silence is driving me mad.
My thoughts torment me as I walk the empty halls, Bianca’s lingering aura a constant reminder of what I’ve lost. Five endless days of silence since the interview where I acted like a mindless fool.
But the look of pain in her eyes when she said she needed time to think… that kind of look could break me.
I check my phone again, hoping for a response to my countless apologies. Nothing. My texts remain unread, and my calls go unanswered. Gripping the phone tight, I resist the impulse to hurl it against the wall. Patience was never my strength.
The screech of tires outside cuts through the oppressive silence of the mansion. Through the window, I see my brothers Ethan and Tristan pulling into the driveway.
A glance at my reflection in the polished grand piano confirms my suspicions. I don’t look or feel like my usual self, but everything has lost meaning these days.
Peeking through the living room door, I rake through my messy hair and pull up my sweatpants. I’m a wreck, but maybe they can offer a clue about Bianca.
The servant opens the door, and my brothers stride into the foyer.
Ethan’s shoulders are wide and muscular, stretching the material of his well-tailored suit. The fabric hugs his frame, drawing attention to his strong build.
Tristan’s eyes scan beyond the large entry room, searching for me. He looks up to the mansion’s stairway banister, showing his sharp and angular face.
“Zack?” Ethan’s booming voice echoes through the house, laced with a concern that makes me wince.
“In here,” I call out, heading back into the living room.
Ethan and Tristan stand at the living room door, their sculpted features etched with curiosity and disapproval.
Gone is the crisp perfection I’m known for. Instead, I reek of desperation and regret—perhaps because I haven’t taken a shower in days. I let out a long sigh before sprawling back down on the couch to rest my heavy head on the cushiony pillow. “Hey.”
The masculine scent of cologne and aftershave lingers around my two brothers as they stare at me.
“Jesus, Zack. You look like hell.” Ethan’s concern shows beneath his artfully tousled dark hair.
Tristan’s amber eyes are a fiery mix of honey and gold, sparkling with curiosity and concern. As his head angles to the side, the light catches in his eyes, making them almost glow. “Rough honeymoon?”
His deep voice is gentle despite the amusement lingering on his face.
My stomach clenches. Honeymoon? The whole damn thing was a house of cards built on a foundation of sand. “That’s cute, brother.”
They stand before me, waiting to hear more, but I give no explanation. None.
Words fail me. How could I explain the tangle of emotions going through my brain right now?
“So,” Ethan begins, raising an eyebrow and glancing around. “Where’s wifey?”
I clamp my mouth shut and say nothing. I don’t need this. Not today.
Ethan’s mouth twists to the side. “I mean, you weren’t the most gracious of newlyweds on camera, but I figured things were cheery behind closed doors, at least.”
My voice trails off as flashes of that damned interview replay in my mind. My cheeks twitch. “Things are fine.”
Ethan walks around the living room, opening drawers and looking behind a curtain. “Where is she?”
I withhold an eye roll. I suspect they already know she never even lived here after we married. In fact, she had only been here once—the night I made passionate love to her. My lips tighten. “She left, all right? Haven’t heard from her since the interview.”
Ethan whistles. “Did she even move in?”
“I told you she’s fucking gone.” The words come out clipped, my patience fraying. If I told them about the craziness that transpired over the past few days, they’d realize I’m a complete idiot.
“Hmm.” Ethan’s head tilts. “I’m a little butt-sore because we didn’t get invited to the wedding.”
A forced smile forms on my lips, a pale imitation of my usual charm. “Sorry, but there wasn’t much planning. It just… happened.”
“Uh-huh.” Skepticism laces his voice and he’s clearly not buying it.
“How’s Ava?” I pivot, eager to change the subject.
His chest puffs out. “Never better. We just booked a cozy cabin in Aspen for the winter. It’ll be the perfect place to put a baby in that cute belly of hers.”
A surge of envy, sharp and unwelcome, stabs at me. That easy closeness, that togetherness—it’s what I craved with Bianca. But I’d thrown it all away with my stupidity. Why didn’t I approach her and ask her for a date like a regular guy? Why did I have to contrive this whole marriage thing?
Tristan, ever the perceptive one, notices the shift in my mood. He’s been quiet, but then, that’s how he’s been for the past few years. He lifts his chin, displaying his strong jawline. “You have feelings for this woman, don’t you, Zack?”
I lift my head and nod once. “Yeah.”
Tristan claps my shoulder, his expression filled with understanding. His eyebrows furrow as he angles his face toward me. “So, do you love her, or was this all for publicity?”
I meet his gaze. “I love her.”
Ethan does a double take while Tristan leans back and slips his hands in his pockets, his arms bulging with visible strength.
“Look, guys. I know all this looks crazy, and truth is … I’d been wondering myself if my feelings are real. But they are, and I’m in pain. I need this woman, and I must get her back.”
Tristan’s dark hair falls over his defined jawline, accentuating the contours in his face as he moves into a moment of quiet thought.
Straightening his back, he stands taller and commanding, his broad shoulders filling out his sleek black shirt. He nods, showing deep understanding. “Then fight for her, Zack. Don’t let her slip away. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
Tristan is talking about her . Willow. The girl who’s been on his mind for years. He lost her, but that won’t happen to me.
Ethan crosses his beefy arms. “Sounds like it’s time to man up and quit messing around. You’ve been dragging the family name through the mud again and I don’t like it.” He pauses, letting the gravity of his words sink into me. “Make this right.”
Squaring my shoulders, a resolve burns inside me. “I’ll scour this city until I find my wife. I won’t stop until she’s back in my arms where she belongs.”
Tristan nods. “Good. But Zack…” He pauses and I look up from the sofa at him. “You need a shower first.”
Ethan puffs out a laugh and grimaces in my direction. “Yes. Please get in the shower, Zack.”