Chapter 35
Tshabina
My hands gripped the camera, steadying the frame as the lens captured every movement. To my right, Zioh sat beside Zaeem among the high executives, and Uncle Bakti smiled broadly on the other side. Behind them, Tsabinu sat with a few people—likely the legal division—calm and composed as ever.
But something was off.
Zioh’s aura was completely different from when I’d seen him earlier in the lift. He released a few long breaths, shifting in his chair, clenching his fists.
What was going on with him?
The shift in his presence was so stark it sent a chill through me. Even Zaeem sneaked glances at his younger brother, though Zioh ignored him. He only kept shaking his head, muttering into his AirPods, glancing left, right, upward.
Then our CEO took the stage.
I forced a refocus, steadying the tripod to capture our CEO’s voice as it filled the hall. But unease gnawed inside me, and my eyes still flicked back to Zioh whenever I could.
After a few words of greeting, our CEO’s following announcement shocked the room and sent it into chaos.
“With great honor and enthusiasm, we announce that the nature of our collaboration has shifted. The establishment of our new subsidiary, PT AeroRail, in partnership with INDTV Group, will no longer be limited to investor and partner roles. From this day forward, we proudly declare it a joint venture.”
Gasps rippled through the room, followed by an uproar of applause. Camera flashes erupted everywhere.
“And with this, Mr. Bakti Danudara will serve as a key investor and fully support this partnership.”
All eyes turned toward Uncle Bakti, who rose with a broad smile, basking in the spotlight, greeting the applause with fire in his eyes. Executives and guests throughout the room stood and clapped enthusiastically in his honor.
But not me.
My gaze locked on Zioh.
He sat rigid beside his father, his expression unreadable. While others moved, he remained still—no standing, no clapping—just an empty, sharp stare that offered nothing.
Our CEO continued, and the applause grew louder with each phrase, but none of it mattered to me. I released a shaky breath, and my eyes fixed on Zioh.
When it was finally his turn to speak, as the appointed project manager for the new company, he stood and walked to the stage.
The air changed.
His presence was heavy. He stood tall and stone-faced on stage. I watched as his jaw hardened, and his knuckles blanched white at his sides.
Scanning the room, his eyes swept over every guest as his lips stayed tight. Not a single smile escaped him, and the hall grew silent under his weight.
I swallowed hard, my knuckles whitening as I tightened my grip on the tripod. The intensity radiating from him was suffocating. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
Then he spoke. Calm. Heavy. His voice carried authority, controlled. He filled the space with force, ensuring every pair of eyes locked onto him. “Good afternoon, everyone—”
No applause greeted him. Only silence.
Beneath his words, I could see it. The flicker of unease in the way he kept adjusting his AirPods.
Then, his eyes found mine.
Not my camera. Not the lenses in front of him.
Me.
The next phase of this project planning involves—” he continued, his eyes never leaving mine. Each time he looked down at the document on the podium, he would look up and find me again, ignoring the sea of cameras surrounding him.
And something shifted.
Zioh’s jaw unclenched, and his eyes softened, trembling as they warmed with a different emotion. The faintest of smiles began to curve his lips.
My breath caught. Slowly, I pressed two fingers to my lips before lifting them toward him in a silent signal. “Smile,” I mouthed.
His chest rose with a quiet exhale, and the corner of his mouth deepened into a genuine smile. He kept on speaking, that beautiful expression never wavering, and his eyes never once leaving mine.
I pointed to the camera in front of me. “Camera, look over here,” but he didn’t.
The INDTV cameraman beside me shifted uncomfortably, confused by Zioh’s fixed gaze. Zioh was supposed to acknowledge every camera and every angle, yet he stared only at me. I gestured toward the INDTV cameraman. “Look over here, too,” I mouthed again.
And yeah… he didn’t listen.
His gaze only deepened and pulled me in further. I sank into that rich, dark brown and lost myself in it, especially as the fluttering sensation rose in my stomach.
The tension bled from his shoulders as he spoke, his voice finding a steady, rhythmic cadence.
The flashbulbs and the muffled whispers of the crowd dimmed into a blur, until the room felt empty of everyone but him.
It was a strange, grounding thing—the way his gaze stayed locked on mine, feeling less like a look and more like a steady hand anchored firmly against my back.
Smiling, my hands slipped from the tripod, and I’d miss the signals my team beside me was giving.
? ── * ── ?
The press conference ended with thunderous applause, flashes, and a whirlwind of formalities.
As the hall emptied, executives, press, and guests began to file out.
I gathered my gear and headed for the lift.
I reached out to press the button, but the man beside me beat me to it.
Aditya. Instinctively, I dipped my head in a small greeting and shuffled to the side, desperate to put a few inches of distance between us.
He glanced at me. “How was it? Everything fine, Tshabina?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. Everything went well.”
He studied me. “Who are you going home with?” His voice lowered. “I noticed Mr. Tsabinu is still speaking with colleagues in the back. Why don’t I drive you instead?”
The question hit me like ice. His tone was soft, but it made my skin crawl. I forced a smile, shaking my head. “That won’t be necessary, sir, I—”
I couldn’t even finish because he leaned in, far too close for comfort. I stepped back, but his hand was already reaching for my face. “There’s something—”
Before his fingers could graze me, his wrist was seized in a bone-crushing grip. The sheer force sent Aditya stumbling back, his balance shattered.
A gasp escaped me, my eyes widening in shock.
Zioh.
His face remained a mask of stone, but his eyes—they hardened into something lethal.
“Watch your hand, Aditya,” his voice cut through the air. “We don’t touch a woman carelessly. Especially when she’s clearly uncomfortable, don’t you think?”
The weight of his words froze the air around us. Seeing Zioh’s cold behavior towards him, Aditya freed his hand from Zioh’s grip.
He glanced at Zioh then at me.
My heartbeat quickened, and I looked left and right. Please, we can’t cause a scene. I can’t!
Aditya tried to recover, his face stiffening. “You misunderstand, sir. I had no bad intentions.” He held his gaze on Zioh, then on me for a long moment before he spoke again. “Besides, Tshabina and I are close colleagues—”
A sharp, dry laugh left Zioh’s lips. The sound alone made me gulp.
Dark.
Zioh was in his black phase.
He stepped closer to Aditya, lowering his face until their eyes met, speaking in a low, deep whisper. “Listen carefully, Aditya.” He raised his hand and rested it on Aditya’s shoulder. “Take your hands off her before I make sure you’ll never touch her again.”
No… he couldn’t have just said that.
Aditya flinched, his lips snapping shut.
Seizing my hand, Zioh yanked me into the lift. The moment the doors sealed us in, he shoved me back against the wall, his hands trembling on my shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you? After the press conference, straight to the parking lot.”
My pulse thundered. “Zioh—” I began, breathless.
“I’m having a bloody bad day because of that arsehole,” he cut in, his jaw tight. “And I don’t want you to do the same, Tshabina.”
My limbs felt heavy. As though an approaching storm tightened my chest, forcing it inward in preparation.
“You hate the rumours linking you with him, don’t you?” His voice rose, anger spilling over. “So why the fuck did you let him get near you?!”
His grip on my shoulders shook, his breath harsh and ragged. A violent shake of his head sent a jolt of fear through me. Not of him but of the familiar black phase I had been waiting for—of not recognizing him when he was like this.
My throat tightened, my voice cracking. “I didn’t let him! I had no choice! He’s my boss—”
“Oh yeah?” His lips curled in a sneer. “Then wait until I ruin that title too.” Finally, he released my shoulders to rub his face, muttering, “Bloody bastard.”
“Zioh!” I snapped, my voice sharp with warning.
“What?” His gaze burned into me, trembling, “Are you defending him?”
“No! But if someone hears—”
“Who?” He glanced around, gesturing at the empty lift. “Who?”
“Zioh.” I met his eyes, refusing to back down. “There is nothing between Aditya and me,” I said, clear and steady.
His eyes darkened, searching mine. Then his whisper came low. “You’d better be. No—” His voice dropped, colder—“you must be.”
Shaking his head hard, he blew out a long breath.
I searched his eyes, trying to penetrate, to find out what happened in his head.
“But you need to know this,” I said, reaching for his hand, his fingers still curled into a tight fist. “You don’t have the right to be angry. You don’t get to control—”
The words died in my throat.
Zioh crushed his lips against mine, silencing me with a sudden kiss. His hand shot behind him, pressing the button repeatedly to keep the lift doors closed as we descended.