23. "You need to be taught a lesson, Sinclair."
I padded down the stairs towards the kitchen, looking forward to my morning coffee. The sweet smell of freshly made coffee hit my nostrils before I even made it to the kitchen. I walked in, instantly met with the sight of Zayden.
I half-expected him to be waiting in the kitchen this morning with some smartass remark, ready to snap back at me. Instead, I found him standing by the espresso machine in a crisp white shirt with the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his back to me.
I walked in, casual as ever. "Morning!"
No response.
Not even a glance.
I arched a brow at his back. "Wow. The silent treatment? What happened, Ashford? Tongue still tied from last night?"
He poured his coffee slowly, like I hadn't said anything at all. His face was impassive, eyes trained on the steaming mug like it was more important than acknowledging my existence.
My smirk wavered.
It took everything in me not to argue. But to continue speaking to him when he decided to ignore me like that would be equivalent to swallowing my pride. Something I wasn't going to allow happening.
Zayden Ashford was supposed to be obsessed with me. Not the other way around.
And if he really thought he could get away with completely ignoring my existence the way he had for years, he was a hundred percent wrong.
He took a sip of his coffee, still wordless, and walked right past me. No glare. No insult. No tension-laced sarcasm. Just cold, calculated indifference. Like I was invisible.
I stared after him, stunned.
He was doing it again. Treating me the way he did when we were kids.
I scoffed under my breath, but it didn't have the usual venom. There was something unsettling about being invisible to him. It took me back to my childhood, resurfacing memories that that wounded my sensitive, little heart back then.
But not anymore.
I was not someone Zayden Ashford could just disregard.
———
The day passed in a slow drag of restless thoughts and trying to keep myself busy. I did everything I could think of. Walking around to clear my mind. Reading. Watching Netflix. Calling up friends for a chat. Some therapeutic online shopping. Except it wasn't therapeutic. Nothing was.
I hated being ignored. Especially by him.
That evening, I walked down the hallway toward my room after spending some time watching TV in the living room. I had on a summer dress that reached just above my knees, contemplating going out.
I rounded the corner and nearly collided into a wall of heat and muscle.
Zayden.
His hand instinctively caught my waist to steady me as my balance faltered.
I looked up, and for the first time that day, his eyes locked onto mine. Sharp, stormy and burning. The air between us snapped taut like a wire pulled to its breaking point.
He didn't let go.
"Watch where you're going, Sinclair." He said darkly.
I cleared my throat, but didn't speak. He couldn't just ignore me all day and then suddenly act like he had just discovered he could speak.
His eyes dropped to my dress, lingering far too long. "Going somewhere?"
"Hmm," I stepped a little closer, letting my fingers trail lightly down the lapel of his shirt. "Remind me why it's any of your business?"
His jaw clenched. "Maybe because this is my house?"
I tilted my head up, letting my breath fan across his throat. "Aren't you bored of the same dialogues, Ashford? Why don't you try saying something new?"
His hand tightened slightly at my waist. "You think you're in control, don't you?"
I smiled innocently. "Of my own life? Yes, I am... but... if you're referring to your mind," I leaned in, dropping my voice. "I'm aware of being in control of that too."
He backed me against the wall in one fluid step, caging me in without touching me, catching me off guard. My wide eyes met his burning gaze. His face hovered inches from mine, breath hot against my cheek.
"You need to be taught a lesson, Sinclair." He growled, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.
I arched a brow confidently despite my raging heartbeat. "Oh? What are you going to do, Ashford?"
His gaze darkened, filling up with something raw and dangerous.
Something that made the hair on my neck stand.
Yet, I stayed still, making no move to get away.
Not yet.
Then his hand moved, trailing down from my waist to the curve of my hip, slow and deliberate. His fingers brushed the edge of my dress, grazing the skin beneath.
I sucked in a breath, my pulse thudding in my throat. Hot sensations swirled through my body like a storm that made me tremble. The pull between us was too strong. It felt sinfully pleasurable. Too good. It made me crave more.
He leaned in, close enough for me to feel his warm breath over my face, close enough that the scent of his perfume wrapped around me like a deliciously sinful embrace.
His lips hovered over mine, eyes alight with an emotion I didn't want to decode.
His nose touched mine, lips so close to claiming mine.
And that's when I did it.
I pushed him back firmly, both palms against his chest.
He looked stunned, momentarily robbed of breath.
I shot him a warning look as if I hadn't felt enticed to the point where my body despised me for pushing him away. "Behave yourself, Zayden."
And then I turned and walked to my room, letting the sound of the door shutting behind me serve as my final word.
Let him burn.
If he thought he could have me so easily, he was wrong.