I was exhausted. Drained.

The man I divorced was still in my life, an unshakable force lingering in the spaces I thought I had reclaimed. And despite all my efforts, he still held power over me-not through words, not through force, but through something far more dangerous.

I could control my expression, mask my thoughts behind indifference, but I could never silence the way my body reacted to him. The way my heart betrayed me, hammering wildly in my chest whenever he stepped too close. The way my breath hitched, how words tangled and died in my throat before they could escape. The way my knees weakened as if the mere gravity of his presence was enough to bring me to the ground.

But this wasn't the same as before. This wasn't the love that once wrapped itself around me like a soft, silken promise. No, this was something else. Something sharp, something old.

It was the way I felt when I first saw him.

The first time our worlds collided was at my university-he was the esteemed chief guest at a grand event, a man far removed from the mundane lives of students like me. I was in my senior year then, a student council member, drowning under the weight of responsibilities I had never truly wanted. Organizing events, maintaining order, ensuring everything ran seamlessly-it was a tedious role but I already regretted taking.

That evening, I was backstage with a few classmates, handling last-minute arrangements when a sudden wave of applause erupted from the hall. The walls trembled with it, a sound so thunderous it demanded attention.

My curiosity peaked, I narrowed my eyes. I slipped my fingers through the heavy curtain, and peeked outside.

And there he was.

One man. One presence. Commanding the entire room without uttering a single word.

The applause, the admiration, the sheer awe in the room-it was all for one man.

Draped in a black suit that fit his tall frame like a second skin, he strode down the red carpet as if he owned the world beneath his feet. Confidence dripped from every step, arrogance woven seamlessly into his very being. He didn't just walk-he commanded, possessed, dominated.

My breath faltered.

Dark hair, perfectly styled. Sharp jawline, like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Broad shoulders, an untamed storm wrapped in the frame of a man. And those eyes-dark brown, unreadable, intense.

A danger wrapped in velvet.
A walking sin.
A breathing storm.

Any woman would have willingly knelt before him. And perhaps, without even realizing it...

I already had.

Behind him, another man followed, moving with the same effortless command, the same unspoken authority. They bore a resemblance-both cut from the same mold of power and precision-but this second man carried a different air about him. Mature. More calculated. Where the first exuded pure energy, this one felt like a carefully played chess move.

I glanced down at the guest list, the very list I had held in my hands for weeks, barely giving it a second thought. And yet, now-only now-did I feel the urge to truly see the names written on it. The other one's name was Roman Lancaster. I already know. But his name was not important now. My eyes darted on the one name.

Zayne Lancaster.

A name that curled on my tongue like the beginning of a story yet to be told. A name that demanded to be spoken aloud.

"Zayne."I murmured it to myself, tasting the weight of it, feeling the way it settled in my chest. A slow smile ghosted across my lips, unbidden, unstoppable.

A sharp smack landed at the back of my head, jolting me from my trance.

"Fucking asshole!" I spun around, ready to throw another curse only to clamp my mouth shut.

Nolan.

The student council president. A postgraduate student. Arms crossed, gaze assessing, he swept his eyes over me with blatant disapproval. Judging. Knowing. His gaze dragged over me like he was debating whether I had just lost my mind entirely.

"Stop ogling and do your work," he said dryly.

I cleared my throat, straightening instinctively. "Right. Yes. Working. Absolutely."

I turned on my heel, stiff-backed, retreating from the curtain like it burned me. But I wasn't the only one caught in the pull of something undeniable. The girls from the stage performance were already gathered at the edge, peeking through the folds, whispering, giggling.

I smack a girl's back with the writing pad in my hand. "Get ready for your performance." I said firmly. But in my mind told me that I only had the right to ogle him. Petty, I knew. But I didn't care. The girls nodded at me and closed the curtain.

I shook my head, but even as I walked away, my mind stayed exactly where I had left it-frozen on the face of the man I had just seen.

And after it all, after the event, after the applause had faded into echoes, the chief guests disappeared behind the doors of the principal's office.

The student council members had the unglamorous task of restoring order, arranging chairs, and clearing the remnants of the event. The hum of conversation filled the hallway as we carried chairs toward the storage room, our footsteps echoing against the polished floor.

Two guards with guns stood outside the principal's office, their presence unwavering. Were those two still inside? A strange unease slithered through me when I saw the guns in their hands. I placed the chair inside the storage room and walked back with the others.

The door to the principal's office opened.

And there they were.

They moved with an effortless command, a presence so consuming that for a moment, everything else dulled into the background. But something about Zayne was different now. The arrogance was still there, but so was something else-a deep frown marring his otherwise unreadable face, a flicker of irritation in his sharp features.

I watched him as we walked, too caught up in his presence to notice my own misstep.

I crashed into Nolan.

He turned, unimpressed. "Can you stop ogling for five seconds?" He raised his eyebrows, amusement laced in his tone.

My eyes darted anywhere but at him. "Sorry." It was anything but a sorry.

He sighed, exasperated. "Walk in front of me. Go ahead-trip over a chair or whatever. Fall on the floor if you must, but not on me."

Laughter erupted from the others, but I just shrugged, taking the lead in front of him. My mind, however, refused to let go of the face I had just seen, the man who seemed to pull the very air toward him.

Zayne and Roman walked ahead of us in the same hallway, their voices threading through the low murmur of students.

Then I heard it.

His voice.

Deep. Smooth. Unhurried. Yet, there was something in it-an undertone of danger, something restrained yet powerful, like the silent force of a deep sea.

"I told you I don't want to come here. Don't force me to do anything, Roman." Zayne's irritation seeped through his words, a quiet storm brewing in his tone.

Roman barely reacted. "Why are you always complaining about socializing?" His voice was controlled, never more or less than necessary.

"Because there are people here. I can't breathe here. It's suffocating." Zayne muttered, as if the very idea of human interaction drained him.

And before I could stop myself, words slipped past my lips.

"Introvert? What a baby!" The second the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake.

A breath of silence. A single second stretched unbearably long.

Then-

"Excuse me?" A voice rose from behind me, smooth as silk yet laced with warning. "Did you just talk about me?"

I paused mid-step, biting my tongue as frustration burned in my chest. Damn it. I shouldn't have said that. Then I just kept walking, pretended nothing had slipped past my lips, that no one had heard a thing, until a sharp sound shattered the air-metal against metal.

I stilled. A shiver crawled up my spine.

"Turn around."

The command was laced with authority, calm yet unmistakably dangerous. My feet refused to move, but Nolan nudged me hard enough to break my hesitation. I exhaled sharply, gathering whatever composure I had left, and turned around.

Zayne Lancaster stood with his eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, but carrying an intensity that made my stomach twist. Beside him, Roman wore the same detached expression.

But it was the two guards behind them, fingers resting on their triggers, that sent my pulse racing. My breath hitched when I realized.

Their guns were pointed at me.

Roman's voice cut through the thick air. "Lower the guns." It wasn't a request. It was a command, weighted with quiet power, the kind that left no room for defiance. The guards hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying, stepping back as if nothing had happened.

Zayne took a measured step toward me. "What did you just say?"

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. "I... didn't say anything. I was just talking to my people." It was a weak attempt of denial, and my body betrayed me-my heart hammered against my ribs, loud enough that I was certain he could hear it.

Zayne tilted his head slightly, studying me the way a predator studies its prey. "Fine. What did you say to your people?"

I forced a shrug, masking the panic crawling up my throat. "Have some manners, man. Don't poke your nose where it doesn't belong." My voice was steadier than I expected, but that didn't stop Nolan from stiffening beside me.

"Eva," he muttered under his breath, low and warning.

I barely had time to register his concern before the guards reacted, their guns lifting again in silent threat. Zayne, however, reached out and pushed one of the barrels down, his movement slow, deliberate. The other guard hesitated, then followed suit.

His gaze never left mine as he spoke. "I was just talking about Nolan," I insisted, grasping at the thinnest thread of safety. "What does anything have to do with you?"

His lips twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite amusement. "With the way he argued with you earlier, he's clearly not an introvert."

The realization sent a jolt through me. He noticed?

I crossed my arms, feigning indifference. "And who are you to question me?"

Nolan sighed beside me, shooting me a look that screamed, Are you seriously playing dumb right now? Nolan already had caught me staring at Zayne twice today and my earlier reaction had made it glaringly obvious.

Zayne stepped closer, his presence an unshakable force, suffocating in its intensity.

"Who are you, little girl?"

I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see the effect he had on me. "I'm a student here. Student council member."

There was a beat of silence before he scoffed lightly. "The student council member didn't know who I was?" His tone was laced with mockery, as if the very idea amused him. "The principal told me the student council arranged everything this year. So that means you're either an airhead or careless... or you're simply lying to my face."

His words wrapped around me like a snare, his gaze steady, expectant. He was testing me, waiting to see if I would break.

This man had given me three options, and none of them were flattering. Dumb, useless, liar. What a selection of words. This man insulted my entire life decisions.

I rolled my eyes.

Nolan nudged me again before turning to Zayne. "I'll apologize on her behalf. She doesn't know when to shut her mouth, sir."

I snapped my head up to glance at him. Betrayal. Utter betrayal. Since when did my beloved student council president start ratting his people out? He didn't even spare me a glance, standing there like the picture of responsibility.

Zayne smirked. "So she really did talk about me?" his voice was smooth, almost lazy as he asked it to confirm again.

"Yes." Nolan didn't even hesitate. Didn't even blink.

"Nolan!"

"What?" He shrugged, unbothered. "Look at the time. I wanna go home. I don't have the energy for your ogling and your running mouth."

Heat surged up my neck, spreading to my ears, my cheeks-traitorous blood betraying me.

Zayne's smirk deepened. "Ogling?" His gaze locked onto me, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Enlighten me. Me or my brother?"

The air shifted. My stomach clenched.

Nolan opened his mouth to dig my grave further. "Y-" But before he could, my foot found his. A well-placed stomp. He groaned, but thankfully, he shut up.

"Your brother," I blurted out, too quickly, too desperately.

He closed the distance and towered over me. His height forced me to crane my neck back to look at him. His smirk didn't falter. In fact, it deepened, amusement flickering across his features as if he could see right through me.

"My brother?" he repeated.

I nodded, but it felt weak. A flimsy shield against an unrelenting force.

Behind me, the other council members whispered to Nolan. "Shall we go? It's already late."

Nolan stayed silent.

Then, after a long pause, Zayne spoke again. "Go ahead." It wasn't a suggestion-it was permission.

Nolan and the others turned without hesitation, eager to escape. But I couldn't move. Not yet. Zayne's gaze pinned me in place, holding me captive with nothing but the weight of his presence. My knees threatened to buckle. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted over my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. My own breath turned shallow, my throat tightening as I swallowed hard.

Move.

Move.

Move.

But I couldn't. Suddenly, Nolan's hand wrapped around my wrist. Without a word, he yanked me back, dragging me along with him.

"Don't make things worse again," he muttered under his breath.

Still, I couldn't help myself. My head turned back to him involuntarily, eyes seeking him out one last time.

Zayne hadn't moved. He stood rooted in place, watching, his expression unreadable as his gaze followed my every step.

The chime of the doorbell tore through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. I exhaled, scratching the nape of my neck before opening the door.

Zayne stood there, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. "Where's Ash?" he asked, his gaze didn't waver.

The way he looked at me-it hadn't changed. That same piercing stare from the first time we met. A gaze that stripped away layers, leaving nothing unseen.

I swallowed hard.

He snapped his fingers in front of my face, pulling me back. I fluttered my eyes and shook my head.

"In his room," I murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

"You're staring," he noted casually, walking past me.

"I'm not," I muttered, more to convince myself than him.

"I believe you," he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips. Then, in that effortlessly commanding way of his, he called out, "ASH! DADDY'S HERE!"

The sound of tiny feet thundered against the stairs, the air filling with uncontainable excitement.

"DADDY!"

Asher came running, his face lit up like the sun. My breath hitched. Zayne's guard had dropped off the suit earlier, but seeing my son in it now-seeing him as a miniature version of the man before me-was something else entirely. Same sharp features. Same presence.

He looked so damn handsome.

"You look incredible, Ash." The suit, perfectly tailored for his little frame, made him look older than his four years.

Zayne fixed his hair with a father's quiet pride. I just stood there, watching them.

"You look exactly like me, buddy," Zayne murmured, pressing a kiss to Asher's head.

"Yay! Daddy's me!" Asher grinned, bouncing on his feet.

Zayne turned his gaze to me. "We're going."

I nodded, glancing away for a second to the door, the car was already waiting. That bastard took the chance to lean in and press a kiss to my cheek.

"What the fuck, Zayne?" My head snapped toward him, eyes burning with disbelief.

He only grinned. "Ash told me you're mad at me. That you miss me because I don't visit often. Thought I should make up for that, don't you?" He laughed, unbothered, while my pulse rioted in my veins.

"What the fuck, Zayne. What the fuck, Zayne." My breath caught as Asher repeated my words, his innocent voice carrying the curse like it was nothing.

My eyes widened. "Ash, don't say that." My reaction was immediate.

Zayne chuckled. "You know what? You're a bad influence on him." He paused, his gaze locking onto mine. "And on me too."

Ignoring his flirtation, I packed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, folding them neatly before handing them over. "Here. If he gets uncomfortable in the suit, change him into these."

Zayne took them, his fingers brushing mine.

I bent down, pressing a soft kiss to Asher's forehead. "Be careful, Ash. Stay close to Daddy." My voice was firm, motherly, filled with unspoken warnings.

Zayne choked back a laugh. "Say that again."

I frowned. "Say what?"

"Daddy." His smirk deepened. "It's been years since I've heard you call me that. Such a beautiful name coming from your lips."

Heat crept up my cheeks.

That was all the opening he needed. Before I could react, he stole another kiss, featherlight against my skin, then scooped up Asher in his arms and darted out the door.

"Stupid," I muttered, watching them get into the car and drive off, my heart still betraying me.